One dad one cup
When I was about 7 or 8 my dad sat me down one night and told me a story. A story that placed the Heyzeus family firmly within the history books and made me feel special, chosen by the gods, to have been born into the clan. For we were historymakers and the world was indebted to us.

With such a proud boast on my mind I waited until a special ocassion to regale this story. An ocassion where it would reach the masses and major Pwnage would be wrought upon my peers and I would truly be idolised.

The ocassion came a few weeks later. The class show and tell.

My 'show' wasn't all that. Just an Aston Villa football kit. For it was the 'tell' that would be the coup de grace.

THe story that young Heyzeus stood up to tell went as thus.

When my dad was a young man he played for Aston Villa reserves (a fact proven to me previously by his medals and other keepsakes).

It was during the final months of WW2 and Villa had made it through to the FA cup final. Dad agonised over whether he would be selected for the team that grand day, and due to several first team players being called up to fight the hun, he did indeed get the chance he so was so desparately waiting for.

The game was a dour affair by all accounts but towards the end of the game the ball came to my dad on the wing. He dribbled past one. Past two. Then faced with a couple of burly players between him and the goal my dad stopped and, thinking quickly, chipped the ball up and executed a perfect overhead kick into the top corner. From about 30 yards out or something.

It was the only goal of the game and my dad had scored the winning goal in an FA cup final.

As the team made their way towards the steps, to receive the cup and medals from the queen, the team captain told my dad that as he'd scored such a great goal, the likes Wembley had never seen before and would never see again, and because he was the youngest, he could be the one to lift the cup.

'Go on son, you've cheered the nation up. You deserve it'.

Walking wearily up the 39 steps, receiving high fives, handshakes and scarves from the fans, my dad looked up and what's this??

It's Adolf Hitler stood there in amongst the crowd!!

Instinctively, my dad reached down his shorts, pulled a gun out ('we all carried guns back then' he said, 'you know, just in case') and shot hitler two-times square in his chest. Hitler was killed instantly.

The crowd cheered, and the Queen gave way with the formalities and planted a kiss on my dad's cheek. Whispering a 'thank you' for saving the country, ending the war, and for scoring the winning goal.

After proudly telling this tale to my classmates there was a stunned silence. THe teacher, blown away with my tale, flustered and brought up the next speaker.

Of course, one phone call from school to home later, I felt so bloody stupid.

You see, my Dad was born in 1943 which would have made him 18 months old at best when he did this remarkable act.

How I could miss out such a detail that made the story even more astounding I'll never know!
(Heyzeus, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 11:37, 4 replies)

I see
Hitler's one weakness was his love of Aston Villa?
(Oben, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 11:54, closed)

He could have been a fan
of Birmingham City though.
(Bear Pookie The Frankly Challenged. Halloween is coming to town., Mon 25 Aug 2008, 13:12, closed)

Derby won it that year
That just makes it all the more remarkable!
(Dangerous Disco Trev Isn't my real name, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 15:13, closed)

Alas
this was before the days of the internets so my fact checking wasn't it's best
(Heyzeus, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 16:53, closed)