GUERNSEY ATHLETICS
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History

Stranger Cup winners 1962

Team, back row, left to right –  Richard Harvey, Roy Queripel, Barry Bishop, Maurice Duquemin, John Rowlinson, Reuben Le Poidevin.
Front row – John Slattery, Micky Brassell, Allan Hamon, Mick Wylie, Micky Mechem.
This new club has a wealth of heritage before it even kicks a ball in its second coming.

The original club dates back to the late 19th century and was a force in the local game right through until 1963 when it folded through financial mis-management. Its very final game was the Jeremie Cup final.

Athletics ‘1’ won the Priaulx League in 1922 and made numerous Jeremie Cup final appearances, but never managed to win any of their seven finals. They also won the Stranger Cup on three occasions, in the years 1921-22, 37--38 and 61-62. Tics also won the Martinez Cup in the season 1922-23.

Pictured right is the Tics team that won the Stranger Cup in the club's penultimate season. Note the classic maroon-and-white strip.

Team, back row, left to right –  Richard Harvey, Roy Queripel, Barry Bishop, Maurice Duquemin, John Rowlinson, Reuben Le Poidevin.
Front row – John Slattery, Micky Brassell, Allan Hamon, Mick Wylie, Micky Mechem.

Best XI

in early 2009 the Guernsey Press ran a series detailing the finest players to pull on the shirt of each senior GFA club.

This was the Athletics FC selection in: 2-3-5 formation
Tommy Rihoy;
Allan Hamon, John Rowlinson;
Dick Irvine, Maurice Duquemin (c), George Symons;
John Slattery, Mick Wylie, Fred Willcocks, Micky Mechem, Des Dorey.
Subs: Barry Bishop, Dennis Bannister, Fred Rihoy, Don Batiste, Stan Eagles, Curly Falla, Reuben Le Poidevin.


Tics poetic challenge

Back in 1961, the Guernsey Press published a poem from a Tics fan in defence of an accusation that the club were pinching too many North players.
In a slightly amended modern version this is the new Tics' poetic motto to take into its first season.

OH to go to the KGV to see our little team;
They used to lose 10-0, but now that's just a bad dream.

The Bels, Saints, all of the lot;
Tics now take them in their stride.

And on the back of the old cockbird
now the Tics gloriously ride.

There will come a day, have no fear, when they will all be in the pot.

And then new maroon-and-whites will eat the bloody lot!