theyflysohigh : Steve Marsh
email: theyflysohigh@btinternet.com
West Ham United Club Historian : Welcome to the Private memorabilia collection of 'theyflysohigh'
I BELIEVE
Christmas Countdown : Day 3
The boardroom swirled again, and Steve felt the floor shift beneath his feet. When the haze cleared, he was standing ankle-deep in mud on Green Street. Around him, a crowd of workmen bustled with purpose - hammering timber, laying bricks, and shouting instructions over the din of carts and barrows. The smell of coal dust mingled with the crisp December air, while children chased battered footballs between piles of rubble. Traders barked their wares, their voices carrying above the clatter of horse-drawn carts.
A foreman, his coat flecked with mortar, raised his voice above the chaos: "This ground will be the pride of East London. A home for the Hammers." Steve realised he was witnessing the birth of the Boleyn Ground - the stadium that would stand as West Ham’s fortress for more than a century, a place where generations would gather to cheer, mourn, and celebrate.
Back in the boardroom, Door 3 of the advent calendar creaked open. Inside laid an Ogden’s ‘Football Colours’ tobacco card, its delicate artwork capturing goalkeeper George Kitchen resplendent in claret and blue. The card shimmered in Steve’s hand, and in an instant he was carried away again. This time, he found himself in a tobacconist’s shop in Liverpool at the turn of the century. The air was thick with the scent of tobacco, the shelves lined with packets of Ogden’s Cigarettes. Beside a polished brass ashtray and a well-thumbed copy of Association Football & the Men Who Made It, the card sat proudly on display - a miniature work of art, hand-painted and glowing with Edwardian colour.
Click this picture Link
to view the Ogden's
tobacco card
Ogden’s Football Colours – West Ham United
In 1905/06, Ogden’s Cigarettes issued one of the most celebrated football card series of the Edwardian era: Football Club Colours. Across 39 football clubs and 12 rugby sides, players were depicted in full kit, each card a jewel of artistry that transformed everyday cigarette packets into collectible treasures.
Card No. 47 proudly features West Ham United’s goalkeeper George Kitchen. Joining the Hammers from Everton in August 1905, Kitchen stood an imposing 6ft 1in - a giant of his time, perfectly built for the position. He quickly became a stalwart in Syd King’s side, his presence between the posts reassuring and formidable.
Yet Kitchen was more than a shot-stopper. Remarkably, he scored five goals for West Ham - all from the penalty spot. On his debut against Swindon Town, he converted from twelve yards, becoming the first West Ham goalkeeper ever to score on debut. His name was etched into the club’s Edwardian folklore, a reminder that even those guarding the goal could seize moments of glory. For collectors, the card is more than a portrait. It captures the artistry of Ogden’s, the spirit of Edwardian football, and the early years of a goalkeeper whose legacy helped shape West Ham’s story.
The vision drifted away, like smoke curling into the rafters of history, and Steve found himself once more in the boardroom, the advent calendar glowing faintly. Three doors opened, three treasures revealed - and yet twenty-one more waited, each promising another journey into the heart of West Ham’s past.
I BELIEVE
Christmas Countdown : Day 2
Steve’s fingers hovered over the advent calendars second compartment. The tiny brass number “2” gleamed faintly in the boardroom light, as though daring him to open it. With a careful pull, the door swung open to reveal a postcard - its edges tarnished with age, its surface alive with Edwardian ink.
The card was addressed to none other than Syd King, West Ham’s formidable manager, and bore the neat, looping script of Willie Reginald Bray - the man history would remember as The Autograph King.
As Steve touched the card, the room dissolved once more. He found himself in a genteel drawing room, the air thick with pipe smoke and the faint scent of varnished wood. At a writing desk sat Bray himself, spectacles perched on his nose, pen scratching across the postcard with deliberate flourish. The ink glistened, fresh and alive, as though history were being written in real time. Steve leaned closer, hearing Bray’s words as they formed:
"Dear Sir, May I ask you to kindly return this card to above and add your autograph on the other side. Thanking you in anticipation, yrs ffly W.R. Bray. P.S. I sent you a card on Oct 3 last - shall be glad to receive that also."
Thousands of requests flowed from his pen, dispatched to figures great and small. Popes, politicians, sportsmen, and station masters alike received his cards. Some obliged, others refused. William Barnes, depicted on the postcard in the colours of Sheffield United, signed his name in November 1903, adding to Bray’s growing archive. By the time Bray’s quest ended in 1934, he had amassed more than 15,000 autographs - a collection unrivalled in its day.
Not all were willing. George V, Winston Churchill, and Adolf Hitler declined, with Hitler’s office replying politely but firmly that the Führer was already overburdened with work and requesting Bray “refrain from further letters in this regard.”
The scene shimmered, and Steve suddenly understood the scale of Bray’s obsession. Born in Forest Hill in 1879, Reginald Bray had begun his experiments with the postal system in 1898 - sending letters with addresses written in verse, reversed lettering, even arranging to be delivered himself as a “human letter.” But this playful curiosity soon gave way to a deeper passion: the pursuit of autographs by post.
Click this picture Link
to view the postcard and read about the 'Autograph King'
The vision began to fade. The postcard lay in Steve’s hand as he marvelled at the thought: in the club’s 130-year history, so few postcards had ever borne its image - yet here was one of the earliest surviving examples. A treasure that bound West Ham not only to Barnes and Syd King, but also to the eccentric brilliance of Bray himself.
The advent calendar glowed faintly, as if whispering that more secrets lay ahead. Perhaps, Steve mused, Syd King had indeed returned Bray’s second card in 1903. If so, another relic of West Ham’s past might still be waiting to be uncovered - a hidden jewel in the club’s long and storied history.
Steve blinked, and once more and was back in the boardroom, the advent calendar glowing faintly, as though inviting him to open the next door.
I BELIEVE
Countdown to Christmas
It was the first of December in East London, and winter had laid its claim upon the Boleyn Ground. Frost clung to the iron gates like silver lace, and the breath of passers-by drifted in pale clouds beneath the glow of gas lamps. Inside the old boardroom, where oak panels whispered of long-forgotten meetings, a young apprentice named Steve stumbled upon a cupboard that had not been opened in years.
Within lay a dusty box, its lid worn smooth by time. When Steve lifted it, the hinges creaked like a memory being stirred. Nestled inside was a curious relic: a miniature replica of Syd King’s famous straw hat. The moment his fingers brushed the brim, the air shimmered.
Suddenly, Steve was no longer in the boardroom. He stood pitchside in 1904, the fog rolling in from the Thames as West Ham prepared to face Millwall in a fierce derby. The crowd roared like a storm, boots clattered against the frozen turf, as King barked orders from the touchline, his voice carrying above the din. Before Steve could take it all in, the vision dissolved, and he found himself once more in the quiet boardroom, the box resting before him as if nothing had happened.
But the box held more secrets. Beneath the hat lay a peculiar advent calendar - not the kind filled with chocolate, but one fashioned from old long-forgotten club minute meeting books and wood, its 24 compartments marked with ornate numbers. Each door seemed to hum with anticipation, as though history itself waited to be unwrapped.
Curious, Steve opened the first door. Inside lay a Baines football card, its typography ornate, its hand-drawn figure clad in turn-of-the-century kit. The moment he touched it, the world shifted again. He was whisked away to an Edwardian school playground, where children huddled in caps and scarves, trading cards with wide-eyed excitement. Their chatter was filled with tales of William Grassam’s latest goal, their laughter echoing against the brick walls as the card passed from hand to hand like treasure.
Each day, Steve returned to open another door, and as the days passed he met legends and journeymen, saw triumphs and heartbreaks, and even stood beside Billy Bonds as he collected the Cup in 1975 and Trevor Brooking as he nodded home the winner in 1980. Each door was a portal, each relic a memory, and each moment stitched the fabric of West Ham’s soul.
J. Baines Ltd: The Shield behind the Glory
In the industrial heart of late Victorian Bradford, amid the clatter of looms and the bustle of market stalls, a modest toy shop on North Parade quietly transformed the way football was celebrated and remembered. Its proprietor, John Baines became one of the game’s earliest influencers. Through his invention of the shield-shaped football card, Baines gave young fans a tangible link to their heroes and lay the groundwork for a collecting culture that endures to this day.
Baines’ innovation wasn’t just a novelty; it was a blueprint for the modern football card, printed on distinctive shield and fan-shaped stock and sold in blind packets of six for a halfpenny. They featured stylised illustrations of players and club names that offered a rare visual connection to the teams supported, sparking a collecting craze that spread across Yorkshire and beyond.
Baines’ cards captured the breadth of the footballing landscape, not only the emerging giants of the professional game, but also amateur sides, to long-forgotten village teams like Heckmondwike Casuals, Rotherham Swifts, and Rawdon United. He captured early incarnations of clubs that would later become household names, including Newton Heath (Manchester United) and Newcastle East End (Newcastle United). In doing so, he created a visual archive of football’s adolescence, one that remains invaluable to historians and collectors alike.
Today, the legacy of J. Baines Ltd lives on not just in the hands of collectors, but in the very idea of football as a story told through images, emblems, and ephemera. His shield-shaped cards remain a symbol of early football culture — playful, proud, and steeped in local colour. They evoke a time when the game was still finding its feet, when clubs were community institutions, and when a halfpenny packet could spark a lifelong passion