The Footballer Setting Record Straight After 46 Years

Warning: This article contains details of racially offensive language and behaviour

The footballer setting record straight after 46 – Roly Gregoire, the pioneering black player who made history for Sunderland, has finally spoken out after decades of silence. At 67, he recounts the harrowing experiences that led him to keep his story hidden for nearly half a century. “I waited 46 years to break my silence because I believed no one would truly listen. I thought I’d carry these tales to my maker,” he shares in a heartfelt interview with BBC Look North, revealing the emotional weight of his journey.

“Sometimes I wish I’d never played football, to tell you the truth, because some of the pain I can still feel it. Talking to you, I can feel myself welling up at times, but I’m trying to contain myself because I want to get this across so the supporters can understand where I’m coming from.”

Gregoire’s debut with Sunderland on 2 January 1978 marked a significant milestone, yet it was soon overshadowed by an onslaught of racial abuse. The 19-year-old had just contributed an assist in a 2-0 victory over Hull City, but the celebration was short-lived. As he mingled with fans after the match, the hostility began, setting the tone for a career marred by prejudice. By 1980, a serious injury forced his premature exit from professional football, leaving him to grapple with the lingering effects of racism for years.

Gregoire’s path to the club began in November 1977 when he signed for Sunderland from Fourth Division Halifax Town. The Bonfire Night transfer, valued at £5,000, was a moment of triumph for the quick, direct striker known as Roly. His skills had already caught attention earlier that season, particularly after a memorable hat-trick against Sunderland’s reserves. The move to Seaburn, a seaside neighborhood in Sunderland, felt like a dream come true. It was a place deeply cherished by his family for their Sunday School visits from Bradford, where he had grown up in a vibrant, multicultural environment.

The first-team debut was a highlight, but the atmosphere shifted rapidly. Manager Jimmy Adamson had chosen Gregoire to wear the number seven jersey for the Second Division clash against Hull City at Roker Park. The teenager’s performance, including setting up a goal for club legend Gary Rowell, was celebrated. Yet, the moment of victory was soon tainted by an incident that would define his time at the club. “After the game, I was having a drink with some supporters, and one of them asked: ‘Were your brothers at the game today?’ I said: ‘Yes, five of them.’ And he said: ‘They’re fast!’” Gregoire recalls, his voice tinged with bitterness.

“Someone interrupted, and I didn’t get the chance to ask what he meant. Later, I rang one of my brothers to make sure they’d got home OK. He said they’d been coming to find me at the club hostel where I was staying, but on the way someone threw half a brick at them and shouted … they used the N-word, I’ll put it like that. It was a group of men – a lynch mob – who chased them through the park near the ground. They were just teenagers. They were so scared – but somehow they managed to escape. It was despicable.”

Seaburn, once a symbol of hope and connection, became a place of trauma. Gregoire’s mother, who had always loved the town, never spoke of Sunderland again until her final days. The incident not only shattered his confidence but also deepened his sense of isolation. “I knew only one other black fellow in Sunderland, he was at the polytechnic,” he reflects. “Wayne Entwistle, a white striker who signed the same day in a £30,000 deal from Bury, shared digs with me for a while and was a good guy, but it was quite a lonely time.”

Roly Gregoire on His Experiences as Sunderland’s First Black Player

Sunderland, still a city in 1981, was a world apart from the diverse communities of Liverpool and Bradford where Gregoire had grown up. The town’s population, approaching 300,000, had only 1% African-Caribbean residents, according to census data. This stark contrast highlighted the challenges he faced as the first black player to join the club. “It was like stepping into a different universe,” he says, emphasizing the cultural divide.

Despite the initial reception, Gregoire found moments of solidarity. Club captain Bobby Kerr and midfielder Mick Docherty, both from the 1973 FA Cup-winning team, became allies during his debut season. They helped him feel at home, even as he made eight appearances for the first team. But the camaraderie wavered in the summer of 1978, during a pre-season tour of Kenya. “After one game, all these children ran on to the pitch and went up to one of our players and gathered round him,” he recalls. “But when they’d gone he came to me and wiped his hands on my shirt.”

“It was a clear signal. He was treating me like I was a threat, not a teammate. That moment sealed it for me – the racism wasn’t just in Sunderland, it was everywhere.”

The incident in Kenya, though seemingly minor, underscored the pervasive nature of prejudice. Gregoire’s journey, from a bustling multicultural city to a predominantly white environment, was one of resilience. Yet, the emotional toll of constant discrimination left him yearning for a fresh start. “I wanted to escape the pain, so I changed my name and moved away,” he explains. “For years, I avoided football because it reminded me of the hatred I endured.”

Gregoire’s story is a testament to the struggles faced by early black athletes in English football. While Viv Anderson of Nottingham Forest became the first to earn a senior England cap in 1978, Gregoire’s experience was emblematic of the broader racial tensions of the era. His debut, a moment of pride and joy, became the catalyst for a lifetime of reflection and regret. “I’ve spent years thinking about that day, about the fear and anger I felt. It was a beginning, but also a nightmare,” he admits.

Now, as he looks back, Gregoire hopes to shed light on the injustices he and others faced. “I wanted to tell my story so that future generations can learn from it. Racial abuse isn’t just a memory; it’s still relevant today. The journey of breaking barriers is ongoing, and I want to ensure my voice is part of that movement.” His words, filled with both sorrow and determination, offer a powerful reminder of the courage required to confront the past and inspire change.