Born in Hull on 17 October 1946, Paddy Greenwood grew up in the heart of East Yorkshire — a region steeped in footballing tradition, though perhaps not in top-flight glamour. Yet, for a young lad with a natural left foot, a sense of timing, and the kind of attitude that made coaches nod approvingly, it was fertile ground.
PART ONE
Paddy Greenwood attended Ainthorpe High School, where his sporting ability quickly set him apart. In the early 1960s, when British football was in its post-war pomp and the FA Cup was the centrepiece of the sporting calendar, Greenwood was already showing signs that his name might one day be stitched onto a professional shirt.
Indeed, at Ainthorpe, Greenwood’s story intertwined with others who would also make their way into the professional ranks — among them Ray Pettitt and Bob Hatton, names that would become familiar to followers of English football over the next decade. As captain of both the Hull Boys and East Riding youth sides, Greenwood led by example: calm on the ball, composed under pressure, and as comfortable closing down an opponent as he was threading a pass through the midfield.
Accordingly, when Hull City came knocking in August 1962, offering him amateur terms, it was less a surprise than a natural progression. Moreover, it was the start of a long relationship between a promising defender and the club of his boyhood city. Greenwood joined the youth setup at a time when Hull were a proud, ambitious outfit seeking to climb from the depths of Division Three to where many felt they belonged — among the stronger second-tier sides.
By March 1964, Greenwood had made the leap from the Juniors to the Reserves, a promotion earned not by reputation but by a string of consistent, intelligent performances. The following October, he signed his first professional contract. For a local lad still in his teens, this was the stuff of dreams — a handshake, a signature, and a promise to turn potential into performance.
However, football is rarely kind enough to hand you instant glory. Greenwood would have to wait fourteen long months before pulling on the first-team shirt, finally making his debut in January 1966, away at Swindon Town. It was a tough introduction — a defeat in the cold winter rain — but it marked the beginning of a steady, purposeful rise.
Hull, under Cliff Britton, were a team on the up. They won the Division Three title that same season, earning promotion, and though Greenwood was not yet a regular, his adaptability caught the eye. He could slot in at right back, left back, central defence, or even midfield — the sort of flexibility managers prize, particularly in an era when squads were small and substitutes few.
PART TWO
By February 1967, Paddy Greenwood had begun to establish himself in the first team. His early performances were full of enthusiasm and enterprise — the sort of displays that fans appreciate even if the player’s name isn’t yet emblazoned on replica shirts. Greenwood read the game astutely, broke up attacks with quiet efficiency, and when given the chance, advanced down the flank with a composure that belied his years.
After missing the opening fixtures of the 1967/68 season, he cemented his place in the side. Indeed, between August 1967 and March 1969, he missed only three matches — a remarkable run of consistency for a young player. During that period, in November 1968, he scored his first senior goal, a sweetly struck effort against Birmingham City, a moment he would later recall with quiet satisfaction.
However, as is so often the case, just as his career seemed to be gathering irresistible momentum, fate intervened. In March 1969, a back injury forced him out of the side. The timing was cruel; Hull were consolidating their place in Division Two, and Greenwood, by now one of the more reliable performers, was forced to watch from the sidelines.
Nevertheless, his resilience shone through. By October 1969, he had fought his way back to fitness and reclaimed his spot in the team. Yet, there was change in the air. Manager Cliff Britton was nearing the end of his tenure, and though Greenwood was restored to the side, the winds of transition often unsettle even the steadiest of players.
When Terry Neill, the former Arsenal and Northern Ireland stalwart, took charge, Greenwood’s fortunes fluctuated once again. During the 1970/71 season, Neill’s reshuffling of the side saw Paddy’s appearances become less frequent. Nevertheless, he remained the consummate professional — dependable, willing, and quietly determined.
By November 1971, however, the writing was on the wall. With John Kaye — formerly of West Bromwich Albion — signed to strengthen the defence, Greenwood requested a transfer. His last game for the Tigers that month marked the end of a near-decade association with his hometown club, one filled with honest endeavour and no little pride.
PART THREE
If leaving Hull was painful, the next step of Paddy Greenwood’s journey was one of both challenge and opportunity. He joined Barnsley for £12,000, then managed by John McSeveney, himself a former Tiger. The Tykes were a Division Three side with ambitions of their own, though their reality was more about fighting for stability than pushing for promotion.
Greenwood slotted in immediately, a natural fit in a team that prized work ethic and unity. His defensive intelligence and leadership qualities were invaluable, and though Barnsley struggled, his presence added experience and resilience to a young squad. Unfortunately, the club’s efforts were not enough to stave off relegation to Division Four at the end of the 1971/72 campaign.
Still, Greenwood stood firm. Over the next two seasons, he was virtually ever-present, missing only a handful of games. His reliability made him a fan favourite at Oakwell, where supporters admired his straightforward style — no nonsense, no fuss, just steady football. He also chipped in with goals, six in total during his time at Barnsley, the last coming in April 1974 against Hartlepool United.
Moreover, that same month brought an intriguing twist. Alongside goalkeeper Ian McKechnie, another former Hull man, Greenwood accepted a summer move to the Boston Minutemen of the North American Soccer League (NASL). It was a bold decision — and in truth, something of an adventure.
In the mid-1970s, American soccer was in the throes of its first great experiment — a melting pot of imported stars, uncertain crowds, and boundless optimism. Clubs like the Boston Minutemen, New York Cosmos, and Los Angeles Aztecs were importing British professionals to lend credibility to a league that wanted to make soccer the next big thing in the States.
Greenwood joined Boston in April 1974, and it didn’t take him long to adapt. The pitches were different, the crowds more curious than partisan, and the media often puzzled by the offside rule, but Paddy thrived. He scored four goals in 19 appearances, an impressive return for a defender, and played alongside Tony Hateley, a striker once feared in the top flight of English football — and father of future Hull City boss Mark Hateley.
The experience, though far removed from the rain-slick terraces of Boothferry Park or Oakwell, broadened Greenwood’s footballing perspective. American soccer, with its fast pace and unpredictable quirks, was as much about showmanship as it was about substance. Yet for a professional like Paddy, it was another arena in which to test his mettle.
Nevertheless, by October 1974, England — and home — called again. A £10,000 transfer took him to Nottingham Forest, a club with history and potential, but also one in transition.
PART FOUR
When Paddy Greenwood arrived at Nottingham Forest, there was a comforting familiarity in the dugout: John McSeveney, his former manager at Barnsley, was now the first-team coach. It was under McSeveney’s guidance that Greenwood settled quickly, making a strong impression in the first team. Forest, then a Division Two side, were rebuilding, and Greenwood’s experience was invaluable.
He played regularly through the winter of 1974–75, bringing solidity and calm to the back line. However, football’s cruel sense of timing struck again. In February 1975, during an FA Cup tie against Fulham, Greenwood suffered a broken leg — a devastating blow that would all but end his time at Forest before it had truly begun.
To compound matters, the club was undergoing seismic change. Brian Clough had arrived as manager in January 1975, and though his reign would later become the stuff of legend, it was initially a turbulent period. McSeveney, the man who had brought Greenwood in, was dismissed, and Paddy’s long recovery left him on the periphery of a team increasingly defined by Clough’s vision.
He underwent several operations, fighting hard to regain full fitness. By November 1975, he was back in training, turning out for the reserves and hoping for a recall. Yet the landscape had shifted. Forest were on a different trajectory now, and Greenwood, though respected, was no longer part of Clough’s plans.
In March 1976, he agreed to terminate his contract by mutual consent, having made only 19 appearances in two and a half seasons. For a player of such determination, it was a painful reality — but as ever, he took it with quiet dignity.
Yet football, as Greenwood’s career demonstrated, often finds new ways to keep old professionals in its orbit. Just weeks later, he was back across the Atlantic, rejoining the Boston Minutemen — this time as both player and assistant coach. It was a role that suited him perfectly: guiding younger players while still contributing on the field.
PART FIVE
During the 1976 NASL season, he made another five appearances before a contractual dispute saw him return to England that August. The NASL was, by this stage, beginning to show cracks beneath its glossy surface — franchises folded, players came and went, and the great American dream of soccer supremacy began to fade.
For Greenwood, the next phase was about finding fulfilment closer to home. By 1977, he had returned to East Yorkshire, though his registration papers from the United States delayed his comeback in the English game. Finally, in January 1978, he signed for Bridlington Trinity, a Midland League side that offered him the chance to continue doing what he loved most — playing football.
He spent six months with Trinity before moving to Goole Town in June 1978, stepping up to the Northern Premier League. Goole, a club with a proud non-league tradition, benefited from his experience and leadership throughout the 1978/79 campaign. Afterward, he turned out for North Ferriby United during the 1979/80 season, a fitting homecoming for a man whose footballing life had begun in the same region nearly two decades earlier.
Retirement, when it came, was gradual rather than abrupt. Like many of his generation, Greenwood had never been lavishly paid, and football had been a profession, not a lottery win. Accordingly, he transitioned into working life with the same grounded realism that had defined his career.
He worked in life assurance, later becoming a pub landlord in Hull — a role that probably suited him down to the ground, given his friendly nature and wealth of footballing stories. Moreover, he remained a familiar face in local football circles, regularly turning out for the Ex-Tigers XI, the team of Hull City old boys who played charity and exhibition matches long after their professional days had ended.
In the early 2000s, he settled in Northampton, enjoying a quieter pace of life but never losing his connection to the game or his affection for Hull City.