The Ball is Round
Joe Kox was a kind old man who came to England, by for him and a few other friends, a turn of good fortune. He was a German soldier captured during the second world war in Holland. Joe was brought over to these shores to serve out the rest of the conflict in British Prisoner of War camps. He told me it was the best thing he ever did, sticking his two hands up into the air! Who can blame him. There were several camps around the Waltham Abbey area where I have lived most of my life and Joe spent time in most of them. When the war finished, he was given the choice. Either go home or stay here under supervision for an unknown time. He had been treated so well, like most of the prisoners and to a man almost all wanted to stay in England. Time went by and the German contingent integrated into the community and many of them met English girls and in the course of time got married. Joe was no exception.
In around 1946 most of the German’s began to play football and this is really where my story becomes relevant if you are wondering why. Abbey Sports had already been formed and boys were now becoming men. Joe played in one of the very first, if not the first men’s team to bear the name of our founders. Over the years as we do, people retire from game, move away and generally move on with their lives. Sometime around 2006 ish, I will look up the exact time, Joe read the local newspaper at his home in nearby Chingford. Waltham Abbey Football Club, my club, had match reports in the back pages. Joe came across the name Hickman and it jogged his memory. Wally Hickman was the man who started football at Capershotts (our ground) and Joe remembered him fondly. He got in his car and came to the next home game. He was pointed in my direction as I knew the club history and we met. It was like finding a living memory instead of going to the library and doing research as I have done on many an occasion. I let Joe down gently with the news that our goalie of the time John Hickman was not related to the late Wally Hickman, but the catalyst was there. We began to become friends and I introduced Joe to everyone in the club and he was welcomed with open arms. He was such a lovely charming man. Not the quickest on his feet bless him, I estimate it took Joe at least 25 minutes to get across the car park. He would then share a glass of Bitter and tell us all stories of the past both from his football days and back home in Germany. He became somewhat of a local celebrity and the local papers even picked up on the story and Joe made full pages on many occasions locally.
To my delight he began to bring photos from the past to the club, press cuttings and even trinkets that fellow prisoners of war had made whilst in captivity. I still have a couple to this day. On one occasion I invited some old timers that I knew to the club and surprised Joe as he knew some of them from well over 60 years ago. This time he didn’t put his hands up he just put them in his pocket! He loved every minute of the mini reunion, as everyone did. Another great time was when we hosted our International Youth Tournament at Capershotts and he was able to speak in his native tongue to our friends and visitors from Hamburg. He really loved being at the club, it gave him a great sense of freedom and fresh life even though he was well into his 80’s, if not 90!
As the decade ended, I had to move away for work and went to live in Spain. It was sad to leave everyone let alone old “German Joe”. But Joe kept in touch, he wrote to me, sending me press cuttings and telling me how the boys had played. Not many people do things like that. About a year into my ex-pat life, I got a phone call that had me in tears. Joe had got in his car and had a heart attack at the wheel and had left us. I flew back for the funeral and was pleased to receive a tribute from the family for looking after Joe when he came to the club. It was a nice touch and thing to hear. As Joe used to sit near us in the press box area, I vowed that when we get a new one made, we will name it after him. I am still waiting for that day, but it will come. We used to sit there and if we lost Joe would always turn and say to me, “oh well Dave, the ball is round” I hope you are resting in peace my old friend, you are gone but never forgotten.
