Bill Stroud represented not only a generation of young footballers whose prime years were “lost” to the Second World War but also an age of comparatively “innocent” mischief, when the ref could be conned without recourse to tugging shirts or taking dives. He was the ever-present captain, in 1938-39, of the Southampton “B” side that dropped only one League point and averaged almost 10 goals a game. He managed to bag 41 of their 244 goals, to be third-highest scorer. But then Hitler intervened, and converting from inside-forward to wing-half, Bill came as near to being a war-time fixture as it got: only Albie Roles and Ted Bates topped his 175 appearances.

The most charted of those was the 7-0 hammering of Chelsea in December 1945, when Bill played a vital part in Doug McGibbon’s record-breaking goal from a kick-off. To make it happen, Bates’s ingenious plan needed Bill to “infiltrate” into Chelsea’s half – literally behind the referee’s back – before McGibbon had kicked-off. Bill had another ungentlemanly ploy: taking a long throw-in with only his stronger hand propelling the ball, a tactic learned, he claimed, from John Arnold, the ex-Saint who became a cricket umpire  but who was apparently not above coaching football gamesmanship.

Just as Southampton’s post-war development was getting exciting, Bill was dropping down to the Third Division. He also turned out for Hastings United between two spells at Newport. Having coached County’s reserves, Bill returned to Southampton, working with their juniors for 20-odd seasons as well as reverting to his original trade of electrician. He was also a regular member of the ex-Saints X1, appearing for them well into his 50s (see scrapbook section.)

Until he needed nursing care in his final years, Bill lived near a junior school, where he loved to watch the kids’ after-school kick-abouts, sometimes offering mischievous advice on one-handed throw-ins. He was looked after by two younger ex-Saints: John Christie who, upon returning from overseas holidays, would visit Bill, with his quota of duty-free cigarettes; and Ron Davies, the full-back, who drank with Bill at the King George – one of Jim Steele’s several pubs – and who, when he went on holiday, would put money behind the bar, to buy a few pints for Bill. When Ron went home to Merthyr, leaving his wife, Marilyn, in Southampton, she kept an eye on Bill – not least when she got him spruced up to attend the 1998 celebration for Ted Bates, the man whose goal-from-kick-off plan had benefited, in 1945, from Bill’s surreptitious infiltration.