Gary Hart - do you agree?

[Lady Whistledown]

Some top comments from Edna there. One thing I think we can all agree on is this: Gary Hart will be remembered for a significant time, by those who bore witness to his efforts and the occasional flash of (for me at least), a player with the potential to play at a higher level. I would however say in spite of some of the very lucid and sane remarks herein, that I would still put a fit young Hart on the pitch ahead of a devoid (in every sense) CMS, a seemingly vapid Colunga and a yet to kindle never mind ignite Oh 'will he make' the Grady. I realise some might cry: insanity Kosh, I hear the calls from the forum to sit down you insane leather clad rocker from yester yore somewhere north of Newcastle... yet if it were my nod to give, then nod I would in the direction of that dear Hart of Stanstead. I hear the crowd roar, I see the Hart score!

Alas it will never be, for the laws of physics (as I understand them) make it an impossible dream given pointless life by my minds highly productive fiction factory.

Kosh

Beautiful

 

[Garry Nelson's Left Foot]

I'd just like to take this opportunity to say that I bloody love Gary Hart.

The only player I hold in higher esteem from the 'between real grounds' years is Bobby Zamora. To me he symbolised all that the club was about in those homeless years. He was a player with real heart(if you'll excuse the unintentional pun) who would fight tooth and nail for the team. He wasn't as gifted as some of those around him but he held his own even if he was punching above his weight. And he scored some cracking goals...at all the levels he played at with us.

 

[Fred Oliver - Legend]

Maybe the wall SHOULD be changed to a Legends wall and as fans we can all nominate and vote on who should be on it?

I'l start and nominate Gary Hart..

 

[JBizzle]

I miss his type of persona and player in our current team.

We had one in Ashley Barnes and great swathes of NSC hated him...

 

[Kosh]

Indeed, yet for all his detractors I loved him. Again a player with an occasional crests of shimmering brilliance atop a stormy sea in a teacup. He was akin to a mid 70s King Crimson album: complex time signatures, unpredictable bursts of sledgehammer like aggression, a rather Janus like two faced unnerving character, introspective interludes and some bloke with short hair. Most people just didn't get it, but those who did - well it was port and cigars time man. Ah yes, a slab of serpentine polished rock in a Cornish gift shoppe of yore, a phallic yet redundant lighthouse forever needing TLC and a vigorous polish, destined to languish upon the hearths of many a fireplace, they took time to warm indeed. Though I'm sure they cry tears for home, tears for the bed they were wrenched from, and for what? to lend an ornate quality to 'middle class' hearths across the UK, a geologic tragedy indeed. When the end comes however, they will endure.

La da de la da da and so on.

Kosh