Flacky and his ball(s)


When situated in the Centre Spot on a legends’night a few years back in time, former goal king Dazza Rowbotham said that he missed the banter in the changing rooms the most from his playing days.

Then added, in a low, giggling voice.

- And the impressive sight of Steve Flack’s private parts!

I must admit, I have never sheared such intimacy with the latest of City’s legends, but great he certainly was. Football wise, I mean.

Flacky has always had his shear of knockers, but the reception he got when he was warming up for his last game in a City shirt – at home to Scarborough at the last game of last season – certainly proved that he was loved by most. Taken into account that we are actually Exeter and not Brazil (although I did wonder during the World Cup: We? They? started comfortably, didn’t impress too many people, but won their games and looked a safe bet for top spot, only to let everyone down in the end, and started talking about next season/tournament long before the current one was over), Flacky always gave us just what a club at over level needs:

A never-say-die striker who is ready to go to war for his club, fighting and terrorising the opposition’s defenders for a whole 90 minutes, as well as being a regular goal scorer for all of his ten years here, and even more importantly, creating chances and space for his partner up top.

In Flacky, we always got that. Hand on your heart – have you ever seen Flacky play for us and not given a hundred percent?

I know for sure I haven’t.

In that you might not get a brilliantly taken Brazilian overhead kick/goal, or a 30 yard free kick goal a la Beckham. But we got a striker who never gave up before the final whistle had gone, and that certainly is rule number one in football – although some certain “stars” seem to forget that every now and then.

Not Flacky, though.

My happiest Flacky memory came a year before the Millennium. A group of cidered up Norwegians were over for Christmas (oh those careless days with no kids and no steady girlfriends and/or wives!) and a small team from Devon, someone further east whose name has suddenly escaped my memory, had taken an early lead. City were dead and buried, but who was there to cheer us up? Oh yeah, that man Flacky, two minutes before the final whistle, and grabbed the equalizer.

And there was more to come.

Five days later we were playing away to Carlisle, and we were having our worst away form ever, going 14 months without a win. The weather was ice cold and terrible, but a couple of hundred City fans had taken the trip up to Northumbria to make sure that fortunes were about to change.

And it looked good.

Jason Rees and Chris Holloway had made sure we went into half time with a 2-1 lead, but Carlisle didn’t want to be the team to break our “record”, and threw everything forward in the second half. Just when you expected Jimmy Glass to come up and knock in an equalizer for the home team (sorry, that was later the same season he scored a winner against a Cornish team, but never mind!), up steps Steve Flack and hammers in City’s third in the dying seconds, and City win their first away game for over a year.

Oh what joy, what happiness! The road home might have looked long, but all I remember is the Christmas carol suddenly being slightly resung all the way down south with the ending “oh how fun it is to see City win away – hey!”.

And when Flacky came over to the City supporters after the game, you could just see on his face how much this meant to him. A true legend indeed.

Thanks for everything, Flacky, and all the best!

From all of your Norwegian Grecian supporters,
Marius G Vik

PS. For those of you who know me, you might be aware of my (lack of) singing abilities. However, it hasn’t stopped me from singing for my two and a half years old son. When he goes to bed and mummy takes him to bed, it’s normally “Bah, bah, little lamb” and other, traditional Norwegian children’s songs. When I take him to bed, my son always asks for “the Flacky song”. Then, with dad singing “Flacky’s gonna get yah” and his favourite “Flack, Flack, Flack-Attack”, he always falls happily asleep.

This tribute was written by Marius G Vik for Flacky's testimonial programme against Torquay on July 25th.