Pughy

Penydrarren Park can boast that it has the largest covered terrace in Welsh Football. Its an imposing, beautiful piece of theatre. Its one of the best places to watch a game of football, as the people that stand on there are witty, caring, dry and knowledgeable. Fitting that we now know it as “The Anthony Hughes Stand”.

When I first started watching Merthyr as a regular in the late 80s, I’d stand centre of that stand. Halfway down it on the halfway line. I’d stand with Terry O’Keefe, Martin Lewis, Robert Davies, Mel Jenkins, Mark Horrigan and Anthony. All a few years older than me, but were all ‘LIFERS’ by that time, never missing a game and they all knew everything there was about MTFC. All of them were keen pisstakers and I had to be on my toes not to get ripped to bits. I’d known Anthony from school days – well more from St Illtyd’s church in Dowlais, where he was one of the senior Alter boys (along with Bryan James – who we also lost last year) when I first donned the red and white cassock as a young catholic lad. Ant was probably three times the size of me at that point and Bryan I seem to recall was even bigger.

Pughy was a keen footballer as a youngster and ended up as the first manager of the ‘Dial M for Merthyr’ team. He would also on occasions scribe and article for this erstwhile publication.

Growing up I got to know the Hughes family and often got to play snooker (I’d end up mostly resetting colours) versus Ant’s Dad Terry. Anthony, like myself was a staunch Man United fan, so when I started coming regularly to games Ant was a familiar face and we soon become firm friends.

Watching the Martyrs home and away together, then also became watching United together. In the early 90s I arranged for us to go to Old Trafford to watch the newly crowned premier league winners. I had a mate who could sort us out corporate with a meal before the game, meet the players, picture with the trophy, all that nonsense. This was to be followed with a stay at the Four Seasons in Hale – a legendary hotel were all the famous Cheshire set would be that night. Lee Sharpe, Giggsy, the girls from Brookside, It was going to be a great trip. We went properly suited and booted, not knowing what to expect. I bought a tan sports jacket for the trip. Pughy loved every minute of it. He was in his element when United Old Boy, Stuart Pearson sat on our table for dinner. Pictures with Peter Schmeichel and seats in the Stretford End was right up his street. Ant wasn’t much of a drinker and didn’t need a drink to enjoy himself. A few of the people we were with did though. We got back to the hotel and then it was into the nightclub attached to the hotel. I popped my jacket back on to find that someone from our trip had puked all up the back of it. So I had to ditch it in my room (eventually the bin) and planned to spend the rest of the night in just a shirt….in the middle of winter, in Manchester. Off we went and at the nightclub door my excitement turned to horror as now jacketless I was refused entry. Last thing I remember is seeing my roommate laughing his big bearded face off and waving arrivederci. I sloped back to the room defeated. In fairness Pughy was back about 45 minutes later to tell me all that I’d NOT missed. It wasn’t his scene to be fair.

Over the years we travel up to OT, we’d have a bet on the game – daft bets, Gary Neville first goal scorer. That was his favourite. It never won. We did bag £300 one night on a 3-1 win and Seba-Veron to score first double.

As he rose up the ranks of football admin, Ant progressed from producing the Merthyr programme to being the Club Sec. He needed some mug to produce the programme instead of him and I was this mug for about a decade. Pughy now had two beautiful children which were his world. And if you knew Anthony, laid back was his default position. Every Tuesday night when we had a Saturday home game, I’d have the 20 pages of editorial all wrapped up by 9pm, then I’d be waiting until well after midnight for Pughy to write his Secretary’s welcome page. It would show up with all sorts of apologies, all centred around family matters. I didn’t mind, family was always first with him.

When Wales played Italy in Milan, Ant went out two days earlier than the rest of us, he was supposed to take his nephew Lloyd. In fairness he thought nothing of entrusting his Sister’s little Prince to me and Noddy to look after for a few days. I had a problem with flight tickets in the airport and we were minutes from not travelling at all. I rang Hughesy, who was in Bergamo and all he could do was laugh at my predicament.

Once he started working at the FA, it was great for me when his string pulling got us tickets to the champions league final in Rome back in 2008. The Saturday before the Wednesday Night game had seen me have a small altercation with the handle bars of my bike and the tarmac outside Castell Coch. On phoning Ant to tell him I had a broken arm, all I got back was that big stupid laugh of his – there was a pattern forming with me being his fall guy. Less said about the game the better, United dominated the ball for 9 minutes and after that we both realised it would be a long old night. We both agreed that we’d seen the finest football team we’d ever seen in Barcelona.

He was great company on the trip, he’d booked a room with some Italian family and we’d flown via Switzerland and after a few unexpected delays, he had to persuade the family’s ‘Don’ to stay up into the early hours for our arrival. “Il Duce” was giving Ant dogs abuse on the phone as we kept checking in with the old boy during our trip over. When we finally arrived, Ant was unamused to find we were in the attic, sharing a small queen size bed. I jumped in and said “When in Rome”. In fairness I couldn’t do a lot for myself with one arm, but he looked after me and he got me around to see all the sites.

Over that period Anthony was a director at the club, doing the best he could to keep the place going whilst being tripped up at every possible hurdle by the owner and his stooges. Our endeavours to setup the supporters trust and wrestle control of our club from the owner was aided at every step by Anthony. At times it would be just a quiet word to the wise or we would sit down and pick his brain on what he thought we should do next. He was one of the wise owls that we would always go to for advice or just keep in the loop so he could help us steer our ship should he think we were going off course. He just wanted what was best for our club.

It was really sad when Ant got ill, he knew it was terminal, but however down he got privately, he never showed this. He would always greet you with the “How are you My Boy?” and always had a smile for you. He’d take great interest in how you and your family were doing, whilst battling on privately with his treatment.

His love and work for the football club has rightfully been acknowledged. I always smile when I read his name on the front of the stand. I think he would have liked “The Anthony Hughes Wank Bank”!!!

During COVID we were forced to play games behind closed doors. To help the situation Myself and Wolvesey hatched up a plan to bring the games to You Tube. Not understanding how complex a simple sounding operation could be the first game was very hit of miss. Trying to juggle filming and commentating when neither of us were filmers or commentators proved a problem. The next game we played our ace. Tucked in a corner of the stand, with home-made covid face masks we had our commentator. Ant knew the game inside out, he of course knew all the Merthyr Players, he knew all the bloody Yate Town players somehow and he knew how to present a game of football. His days of doing ‘Red Dragon Radio live updates from PP’ during our Conference years had revived a previously wasted talent. And most of all – he loved doing it. He would present the game with passion and me and Wolves would dick about in his wake. I look back at those games fondly, it was fun and even though Ant was ill, he was bursting with life. We may have only been talking to 200 fans but it was connecting him with other fans talking about something he truly loved.

I got to watch one final game with Ant was during the World Cup in Qatar. It was a boiling hot day in Doha and Wales couldn’t cope with Iran succumbing 2-0. But it was a beautiful day. Ant gave me one of his bottles of water at half time, he told me an unrepeatable story which we both laughed like drains about and for 90 minutes we just got to spend the time doing what we had enjoyed doing so many times. Sadly neither of us knew that would be it and we kept promising to go to OT for a United game. A game that never happened.

I’ve so many fond memories of our time together, a great friend and a great human being who I, like most at PP who knew him, really miss.

Donovan