Martyn Potts grew up in Blackpool in the 1950s. His dad was at the Matthews Cup Final in 1953. In 1959, aged nine, he and his mates on a cinder-surfaced cul-de-sac had no football. So they went round collecting empty pop bottles, claimed the deposits and pooled the money. Two days later they had enough for a ball.

He wrote a poem about it for his 70th birthday. He reads it at the table.

In the season finale of Football for Breakfast, Jim Johnson sits down with Martyn in the greasy spoon cafe for a conversation that stretches from the 1950s to the present day.

They talk about the 1966 FA Cup Final. Martyn was 15. His Uncle Bill was honorary secretary of the London Society of Association Referees and got them tickets - not just for the match, but for the eve-of-final dinner the night before. A surprise appearance from Tommy Trinder - chairman of Fulham - who told blue jokes to the all-male audience that a 15-year-old Martyn was not supposed to hear. His dad said don't tell your mum.

The next day, Everton beat Sheffield Wednesday three-two from two nil down. Derek Temple scored the winner. Martyn brought the ticket stub and the dinner programme. He's kept both for sixty years.

He is a retired headteacher. He still plays 5-a-side every Sunday - not walking football, actual running football. And he has just published a new collection of poetry about the Wirral called Sandstone and Sea.

Jim closes: proof that the best football stories aren't always about football, and the best poets never stopped paying attention.

Football for Breakfast is presented by OSS Security.

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