BOYS of my generation were brought up in a much more disciplined fashion than boys of today. We were expected, by our teachers and parents, to do well at school, to be obedient and to be tough.

The issue of how to encourage toughness has always fascinated me. Is it possible to make people ‘harder’ by exposing them to harsh conditions? It was something that for years I had accepted as gospel – the sun rises every morning, the sea is salty, harsh conditions make you more resilient.

In history, we were fed lots of propaganda to reinforce this: to toughen up their newly-born, the Ancient Romans left them exposed, on the hills, overnight. Residents of the Barebones, we were told, were hardened because of tough living conditions. Also, we were constantly reminded that real men don’t cry no matter how much they’re hurting.

So, it seems that, toughness was a quality that the 1960s adult generation found quite desirable and worth encouraging.

I remember my friend, Roy Burgess, falling 25 feet from a tree in the Needlewood and landing flat on his back. It must have hurt terribly but up he got and carried on without a groan. From then on, Roy was godlike to me.

I also recall having to face the future England fast bowler, Arnie Sidebottom, on a bitumen wicket on Shaw Lane. Our primary school head was brilliant but he was also keen to toughen us up by shouting: “You don’t need cricket pads and batting gloves to defend yourself against a cricket ball! That’s what your bat is for!”

So, there I was, defending my stumps (and body) with only a narrow piece of wood.

I didn’t see Arnie’s first delivery as it struck my shin bone and, before my very eyes, a lump the size of a small egg appeared.

The blood drained from my face, but it was pride rather than resilience that made me want to face another delivery. This time the cannon ball hit a raised area on the pitch, then reared like a venomous serpent to strike the first finger of my left hand. Arrgghh!

I had to retire injured but it didn’t make me tougher – instead, I resolved that from then on I’d always bat wearing pads and gloves. So, in a way, it made me wiser.

At Longcar Central Secondary School, a few of the teachers and older students were as tough as nails. The use of the blackboard rubber for target practice, the slap at the back of the head, and the ritual use of the cane, were fairly commonplace.

Bullying teachers only acted as role models for some students. I was lucky because, for some reason, the older students never tried it on with me. But I know that some vulnerable lads suffered bullying to the point of misery.

So where is all this leading?

We students at Longcar prided ourselves on our toughness. In April 1966, our under 13s school football team was playing Stocksbridge Secondary Modern, away.

We had to trudge up this steep hill until we reached Bracken Moor. It was freezing cold and the biting wind was far stronger on the moors than in Fox Valley. We even had to climb over a stile to reach the sloping football field which was uneven and covered in cow pats. None of us fancied playing on it.

Brian Glover spotted our displeasure.

Alan Newsam said, as he eyed another pile of dung, “This isn’t a football field, sir, it’s a s**t tip.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Newsam. Perhaps you meant to say ‘refuse tip’,” replied Mr Glover. “Anyway, I don’t want to hear any excuses. The conditions are the same for both sides.”

Three-quarters of the way through the match, a sudden hailstorm stung every square inch of our exposed skin, and whitened the green grass.

The Stocksbridge lads were tougher than us and took the foul weather in their stride, getting stronger as the game went on. The only thing our players were interested in was the final whistle and the journey home on a warm Yorkshire Traction bus.

Again, after this experience, I resolved to always wear a second shirt under my team shirt and two pairs of socks.

Conclusion: harsh conditions can make you more resilient, or more wise, but they can also break a person’s spirit. Therefore, in my view, life is tough enough without some idiot deliberately making it worse.