No Sex Please. We're Wolves
by Robert Sidaway
Another golden memory in my time in theatre was when the football team I passionately support came to London to see the hit comedy “No Sex Please, We’re British”. After my West End runs in “The Magistrate”, followed by “The Wild Goose” and “Abelard and Heloise”, I was a struggling actor again, working part-time helping to market the sex comedy at the Strand Theatre (now the Novello) that was to eventually run for sixteen years!
Football (soccer for Americans) was great sporting theatre for me. Two hours of drama, performed by players without a script. Winning puts the world at rights for me, losing then all is wrong. My Wolves (Wolverhampton Wanderers) in their old gold and black reached the League Cup Final in 1974 against old rivals Manchester City. And the memory of what happened before the big game at London’s Wembley Stadium remains with me is as if it happened yesterday!
As a supporter from the early fifties, when Wolves were once called ‘Champions of the World’ (a proud story), I could rarely visit my home city to see them play at the nicknamed ‘Golden Palace’. So occasional games against London clubs were always special moments for me. Now my son and I were going to see them play at the historic Wembley and I had a crazy idea which was supported by the Producer of the show. I invited Wolves to a performance on the evening before the big game. If they came it would be a media promotion winner for the show AND my football team!
It was of course highly unlikely that the players (athletes) would have a night out just hours prior to one of their biggest games in their careers in front of a 100,000 crowd. But I gave the unlikely a try with a letter to the club chairman, just waiting for the expected ‘thank you but…’ However, that reply never came. Instead, just a few days before the game, I opened a reply from the Wolves assistant team manager ‘thank you for the invitation, after discussing it with all concerned we would like to attend…’
I was going to entertain the old gold and black, and at the same time had scored a major PR event for one of the most successful shows in the West End at the time. In hindsight, I’ve always thought it was a masterstroke by the club’s management from a physiological point of view. On any day before a game, it’s usual to keep your players away from the spotlight, monitor fitness levels and nutrition, keep them focused and get a good night’s sleep. But not for this squad! This would diminish growing nerves, take their minds off the next day - a ‘naughty’ comedy being the perfect antidote for the team to enjoy together. An evening of laughter and getting to meet the stars. I let the press know that Wolves might be the underdogs for the final, but they were out to enjoy their time in the capital as well as their football. I kept fingers crossed it would hit the headlines for my team and the show.
The big evening came and the Wolves team coach arrived outside the Strand Theatre. The show’s producers and myself were lined up to welcome the players alongside club officials, their wives and families. What an occasion standing there shaking the hands of all my heroes. It reminded me of a line-up for a Royal Command Performance! They took their seats for the 8pm curtain up, and with a packed audience they laughed away the performance (even a drink at half time - sorry, interval) and I bet you not one of them gave a thought to the game the following day. After the final curtain the team went on stage to meet the cast. This was the black country football club stars meeting West End stars, and what camaraderie it was as performers in theatre and football got together. Most of the players were interested in meeting the two strippers (modest in those days) and didn’t leave the theatre until around 10:30pm, so by the time they reached the so-called ‘secret hide-away’ hotel it would have been a pretty late bedtime. From what I heard, it was a late breakfast for them on their Wembley day.
But it was an early breakfast for me, after buying all the morning papers and thrilled to read the back page sports headlines that covered Wolves night out at the Strand Theatre. My favourite copy was in one of the nationals front page – ‘No sex Please, We’re Wolves!’. Manchester City were a footnote.
And that afternoon I was there at the old Twin Towers stadium with my family, and my 9 year old son who had met them all on stage and who’d been promised that they would wave to him from the pitch – and kept their promise!
Did I assist in the Wolves victory that day in '74? I always kid myself that I did. They were certainly a happy band of brothers as they left the bright lights of the theatre late that night, and even happier band that lifted the cup for their thousands of supporters.
Post-note: while acting, then writing and producing for film and TV, I’ve travelled the world over the years, which means watching Wolves on TV in China, New Zealand, Thailand and North America. Wolves as ever give me the moments (good or bad) to forget the pressures of the industry I’m in – ‘We’re Wolves Ay We!’ is the call and ‘Out of Darkness Cometh Light’ is the motto. But I will always miss being in the iconic Molineux stadium, built in a leisure park created by French settlers in the 18th century.
