It was a warm Saturday afternoon, September 4th, 1999, when I strolled into the Wilderness, expecting nothing more than the usual camaraderie and chatter.

Instead, I was met with grim faces. Fred and Pam Melthey, pillars of the club, broke the news that hit me like a thunderclap: the London Borough of Waltham Forest had put our beloved Nutter Lane ground up for auction. The sale was scheduled for Monday, September 13th—just nine days away.

I felt a surge of disbelief, then anger. This was the borough where I had lived, worked as a teacher, and poured decades into community sport. How could they do this?

My mind raced back through my long history with Eton Manor RFC. I first pulled on the club jersey in September 1969. Rugby was my passion until an injury in the Essex 7’s ended my playing days in 1978. But I never left.

I organized Easter tours, captained the club, chaired it through the 1980s, and refereed matches for over three decades. Nutter Lane wasn’t just a patch of grass—it was part of my life.

I also knew the ground well from another angle. Since the borough bought it from Essex County Council in 1973, I’d taken countless school teams there for Saturday matches. It was more than a sports field; it was a community hub.

I immediately contacted Martin Scott, our Chair at the time. His confirmation of the situation only deepened my resolve. Something had to be done—and fast.

Fortunately, I had one advantage: my role as Chair of the Waltham Forest Sports Council. I invited Martin to the next council meeting on Wednesday, September 8th. Around the table sat representatives from the National Playing Fields Association, CCPR, and others. When Martin explained the crisis, the reaction was unanimous—shock and outrage. We drafted a statement of support, signed by all present, and agreed it must reach key councillors immediately.

The next day, Thursday, I cleared my schedule. Armed with letters and statements, I crisscrossed Waltham Forest on public transport, hand-delivering them to ten councillors who I believed cared about grassroots sport. Then I waited.

The silence was nerve-wracking. But by Friday morning, the phone rang. It was the Leader of the Council, his tone urgent. Nutter Lane would be withdrawn from auction—if the agreed deposit reached the Finance Department by noon on Monday. Our Treasurer, John Ayling, moved mountains to make it happen. By the deadline, the money was in. We had saved our ground!

Looking back now, I’m filled with pride—not just for that frantic week, but for everything the club has achieved since. Every time I visit, I’m struck by the warmth, the hard work, and the success of all our teams. Eton Manor RFC is thriving, and Nutter Lane remains its beating heart.

As for the Waltham Forest Sports Council? It’s gone now, like so many others once supported by local authorities. Perhaps we were too effective for our own good. But on that September day in 1999, we proved what determined people can do when their community is under threat.

By Jim Howell