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Half seven in the morning. Mick Channon is sitting at a desk in the office of his palatial West Ilsley stables. A force of nature, he’s been merrily swearing away for the last couple of hours.
A black and white picture hangs on the wall: Alan Ball on the left, Channon on the right. The pair are at Lawrie McMenemy’s Southampton. Both are laughing. There’s a lot of that when Channon is around.
Once a thoroughbred footballer and now a prolific trainer, the remarkable 68-year-old’s windmills are slowed by arthritis these days. But the mind is still fast, the tongue still sharp and the language incorrigible.
There is something missing, though. There has been for exactly 10 years now. Channon and Ball were one of the great double acts. They clicked over their shared love of football and horses, but it went deeper than that. Ball was practically family round these parts.
‘He was 61 when he died, but he wasn’t, he was 110! You know? In that sixty-odd years he never missed a beat,’ says Channon in that familiar Wiltshire twang.
‘Life was full on, whether you were racing, meeting for a drink, singing or dancing. If you were ever in his company, you had a laugh. He always had a story.’
It’s a trait Channon shares. He recalls a month spent with Ball in Australia which included a trip to the final Test of the 2006-07 Ashes. ‘I took a (hospitality) box for the cricket. I’ll never forget it. We lost 5-0. Freddie Flintoff was captain and I took a box in Sydney. Sydney Cricket Ground. F ** beautiful box. We had everyone there’, he enthuses, getting into his stride.
‘Me and Bally were staying with friends. We knew Flintoff and he said, “Can I come over with the missus, just to get away from it all? We’ve lost 5-0, I’d just like to come over for a quiet evening”.
‘Bally was sat there, “It’ll be great, we’ll get Freddie over,” he says. “What we must do Mick”, he says, “when he comes in we won’t mention cricket. Whatever we do. He’s had a terrible series and we’ve lost 5-0. We’ll just let him have a good time”.
‘So anyway, we’re there and it’s about 10 o’clock, we’ve all had a few drinks. Ah Freddie’s here! So he walks in. Want a beer Freddie? Give him a beer, put it in his hand. And Bally says, “What about that f * Pietersen. He ought to be f * shot!” I said to him, “Well that lasted a long time, didn’t it!” And we just started laughing.
‘We were out about four in the morning trying to get Flintoff and his missus a taxi to the other side of Sydney! But that was Bally. Great character. Great man. If he had something to say — I’m a bit like that myself.’
Ball was in the process of moving a stone’s throw from his best friend but suffered a fatal heart attack fighting a bonfire in his garden 10 years ago today.
The Channon clan — including his mother Betty, 95, wife Jill and oldest son Michael, an assistant trainer — were heartbroken. Mick, seldom one lost for words, could barely speak at the funeral at Winchester Cathedral.
‘It was a very sad day for everyone. I shall never forget the phone call from Michael, who was very close to Bally. Five in the morning, telling me. I couldn’t believe it.
‘He had half moved in! This would have been perfect for him. You can get anywhere from here, whether he was doing radio or football matches or he was doing his after-dinner speaking.
‘He loved Royal Ascot. He loved singing Frank Sinatra songs. I can see him now,’ Southampton’s all-time top scorer smiles as he tails off. A flat cap similar to the one which became Ball’s trademark sits on Channon’s desk. Before he screws it on his head, he glances upwards. ‘I wish I had them sideboards again!’
Channon has been here almost 18 years, buying the stables from the Queen. Situated in 650 acres of rolling Berkshire hills, Channon is king of all he surveys. ‘You’re on top of the world here, God’s country!’ he says.
Everyone knows Alan Ball. The 5ft 6in Lancastrian was the youngest member of Sir Alf Ramsey’s World Cup-winning squad, just 21 in 1966 — the year Channon made his Southampton debut. A fierce patriot, Ball won 72 caps for his country and racked up 743 league appearances for Blackpool, Everton, Arsenal, Bristol Rovers and Southampton.
‘He had a great football brain,’ says Channon. ‘Quick feet, quick brain. For a midfielder he scored a lot of goals. People just thought he was a running machine, especially in the early days with the World Cup and that. But he was a great footballer.’
In his first seven full seasons, Ball hit double figures. He was in the England side as Channon made his debut in October 1972, a 1-1 draw with Yugoslavia at Wembley. They clicked and their friendship deepened at The Dell when Ball joined Southampton in 1976.
‘We had some great cracks at Southampton, with England and racing,’ says Channon. ‘Ascot in our early footballing days was a total week’s partying. I struggle to make four or five days now but in them days you didn’t stop. You started on a Monday night at Windsor and then you went right through to Saturday evening!’
The pair were inseparable off the pitch and their careers share an odd symmetry: both had two spells at Southampton and would leave The Dell for Manchester City, Channon for £300,000 in 1977 and Ball as a manager in 1995.
Ball won the league with Everton in 1970 and was runner-up in the FA Cup (twice) and League Cup. Channon won the FA Cup with Southampton and the League Cup in 1985 with Norwich.
Months later Ball recruited Channon at 36 for his final season, on £500 a week. That Portsmouth team was known as the Gremlins: a hard-drinking, ill-disciplined bunch featuring characters like Micky Quinn, Noel Blake and Kevin Dillon.
When Ball lost his rag in the dressing room, Channon would be giggling in a corner. ‘He was a bloody good coach. He did great at Portsmouth, got them promoted on a shoestring. Franny Lee offered him the Man City job at Ascot and I said, “Bally, you need your friends more than you need money”.
‘But it was a great opportunity at City and Bally wanted to be at the sharp end of everything. If he made up his mind he was going to do something, he would give it his best shot.
‘He had that character and charisma that went with his ginger hair and his squeaky voice. He was just a very special person.’
And with that, the equally remarkable Channon gets back to the day job. Races to go to, horses to see. But today, as much as any day, the memories of his great friend are never far away.
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Stamford Bridge
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