An entertaining winger, George Dewsnip was on the books of a number of clubs, including Preston North End, Southport, Fort Lauderdale Strikers, and Los Angeles Aztecs.
PART ONE
Born on 6 May 1956 in Little Hulton, Greater Manchester, George Dewsnip came from the sturdy, football-loving stock that populated the North West’s terraced streets, where the game wasn’t so much played as lived. In those days, when talent scouts roamed the local parks and recreation grounds like hawks, Alan Ball Senior spotted the young Dewsnip and was instantly impressed.
And so it was that in 1972, Dewsnip joined Preston North End as an apprentice. Preston was a club with heritage and one that still carried a sense of pride and purpose even as it toiled away outside the top division. Yet football, as Dewsnip soon discovered, is a harsh profession. The jump from schoolboy star to professional footballer is immense, and though he trained hard and developed well, he was unable to break into the first team.
By 1974, having signed professional terms but made no senior appearances, the youngster was eventually released. However, as is often the case in football, one door closing merely opens another — and sometimes, that new door leads somewhere entirely unexpected.
In the summer of 1974, Dewsnip signed for nearby Southport, a club that had experienced both elation and despair in rapid succession. The Sandgrounders had been crowned Fourth Division champions in 1973, only to suffer relegation back to the basement division the very next season. That pendulum swing between glory and frustration mirrored much of Southport’s history, a club of honest toil and proud supporters, forever punching above their weight.
Dewsnip’s first season at Haig Avenue began quietly. His League debut came as a substitute against Lincoln City in September 1974, a moment that might have passed unnoticed outside the club but one that marked a milestone for a young man who had fought hard to stay in the professional game. Southport finished that 1974–75 campaign in 11th place, a respectable mid-table showing that hinted at better things to come.
However, football has a wicked sense of humour. What looks like promise one season can turn to agony the next, and the 1975–76 season quickly turned into a campaign of unrelenting struggle.
After four games, Southport had scored only once, scraping together a mere two points from home draws. The alarm bells began to ring around Haig Avenue, but the true nightmare was only just beginning. The next eleven league matches were all lost, a brutal run that remains the worst in the club’s long history.
Yet, remarkably, this was not a team being thrashed out of sight — the defeats were narrow, the margins cruel. The last five of those eleven games were all lost by a single goal, an agonising statistic that summed up their plight: close, but not close enough.
By the end of September, manager Jimmy Melia resigned, worn down by the relentless pressure. Into the breach stepped Duncan Welbourne, the club captain and stalwart defender, who assumed the unenviable role of player-coach. Leadership on the field and off it is no easy burden to carry, yet Welbourne took on the task with quiet dignity, supported by Bobby Sibbald, who took over the captaincy.
Despite the chaos, Dewsnip continued to develop. Still in his late teens, he was learning the hard way — every defeat, every scrappy draw, was a lesson in resilience. The problem, as observers noted, wasn’t one of effort or morale. The side was, in fact, a reasonably balanced team of talented players, but one badly lacking in cutting edge up front, and off-field uncertainty only deepened the malaise.
Football has a strange way of teasing hope from despair. Midway through that dreadful losing run, Southport produced a performance that defied logic. Away to Tranmere Rovers at Prenton Park, they played with confidence and flair, dominating midfield and controlling the game — everything but the scoreline. Tranmere’s single second-half goal sealed the match, putting the Merseysiders top of the table, while Southport’s misery continued.
And yet, just when it seemed the footballing gods had entirely deserted them, a long-awaited reprieve came. On December 6th, 1975, the team travelled to Scunthorpe United, a side also struggling for form. There, after eighteen games without a victory, Southport finally broke their duck by beating the Iron 2–1 thanks to a thundering 25-yard strike from Dewsnip, his first for the club.
It was the kind of goal that players dream about — a moment of catharsis, the ball slicing through the cold air before nestling into the back of the net, a goal that was both beautiful and desperately needed. For Dewsnip, it was a personal breakthrough; for Southport, a rare glimmer of joy in a season of torment.
Unfortunately, any talk of a turning point was short-lived. Five more defeats followed, and by the turn of the new year, Southport had managed just five points. Something had to change — and fast.
Change came in the form of a new man at the helm. On January 2nd, 1976, two significant things happened at Haig Avenue: top scorer Bobby Gough was transferred to Colchester United, and Allan Brown — a former forward with Nottingham Forest, Bury, and Torquay United, and a manager of considerable experience — was appointed as the new boss.
Brown was old-school in the best possible way. Disciplined, no-nonsense, but encouraging, he demanded effort and organisation. Slowly, his influence began to show. Within weeks, Southport beat Newport County 3–0 at home, a result that briefly lifted spirits. Yet the road to recovery was long and winding — another five-game losing streak soon followed.
But football fortunes often hinge on small moments, and for Southport, the tide began to turn when Brown brought in goalkeeper Dave Ryan on loan from Manchester United. Before that, things had become so desperate that winger Johnny Johnston had been forced to don the gloves at Rochdale — and while he heroically held out for 85 minutes before conceding twice, it was clear something drastic was needed.
Stability began to return when John Higham, initially on loan from Liverpool, settled in at centre-half and later signed permanently. The defensive leaks slowed, confidence grew, and part-timer Keith Galley, signed from Morecambe, began to find the net more regularly.
Southport, once seen as dead and buried, started to claw their way back. Only three of their last 14 matches were lost — a remarkable turnaround that culminated in a six-point Easter, the club’s best since 1930. The highlight came with a 2–1 win at Huddersfield Town, a result that not only boosted Southport’s survival hopes but effectively cost the Yorkshire side promotion.
Even so, fate wasn’t finished toying with them. In mid-March, they travelled to Bournemouth, a side with a formidable home record — only nine goals conceded all season at Dean Court.
Southport, who had scored only six away all year, somehow found themselves leading 2–0, then 3–1. Yet Bournemouth, as promotion contenders do, clawed back to 3–3. The drama didn’t end there — the match was halted for 20 minutes after a bomb hoax forced both teams off the pitch. When play resumed, chaos reigned once more. It was, truly, a season when everything that could happen, did.
Despite the late-season heroics, re-election to the Football League was a certainty. Southport finished five points clear of bottom-placed Workington, but their league status was far from secure. For Dewsnip, though, the campaign had been one of immense personal growth. He had matured into a skilful, industrious winger, one who could beat his man, cross intelligently, and, as that thunderbolt at Scunthorpe had proved, score goals too.
When the dust settled, change once again swept through Haig Avenue. On May 5th, 1976, Allan Brown departed to become manager of Blackpool, leaving Southport in search of new direction. Yet Dewsnip had done enough to catch attention beyond English shores — and football’s next chapter for him would be written not in Lancashire, but under the bright American sun.
PART TWO
In 1977, George Dewsnip made a move that many of his generation dreamed of — a transfer to the Fort Lauderdale Strikers in the North American Soccer League (NASL). The fee was £11,000, not insignificant for Southport at the time, and for Dewsnip, it represented both opportunity and adventure.
The NASL in the late 1970s was a glittering, chaotic circus — a place where fading European greats rubbed shoulders with ambitious young players seeking fortune and fame. The Strikers, based in Florida, were among the league’s glamour clubs. Their ranks included the likes of Gerd Müller, George Best, and Gordon Banks at various points — a galaxy of names that lent the fledgling league an aura of Hollywood sparkle.
For Dewsnip, the adjustment was immense. From the grey drizzle of Haig Avenue to the palm-lined boulevards of Fort Lauderdale, life was different in every conceivable way. The pitches were lush, the stadiums often half-full but loud, and the travel distances absurdly long.
On the field, he settled well, making 28 appearances and scoring 3 goals during the 1977–78 campaign. His pace and technique translated nicely to the faster, more open American style, and while the crowds came for the stars, players like Dewsnip provided the graft and consistency that kept the show on the road.
Moreover, the NASL’s mixture of cultures — British, South American, European — gave the former Southport flanker new perspectives on the game. Training sessions were less regimented, tactics more fluid, and the emphasis firmly on entertainment. For a player schooled in the hard-edged realities of English lower-league football, this was something of a liberation.
In 1978, Dewsnip found himself involved in one of the more curious transfer arrangements of the NASL era. The Los Angeles Aztecs, home to none other than George Best, sought to refresh their squad, and an exchange deal was struck that sent Georgie to Fort Lauderdale and Dewsnip in the opposite direction.
Moving to Los Angeles was like stepping into another world. The Aztecs were based in one of the most glamorous cities on earth, where movie stars mingled with footballers, and matches were played before a curious but growing crowd of Californians drawn to this exotic British game.
Dewsnip’s time in LA was eventful if brief. Over the course of a season and a half, he made 13 appearances and scored 3 goals, playing alongside a mix of international imports and homegrown hopefuls. The NASL’s structure — with its sudden-death overtimes, shootouts, and colourful showbiz presentation — was far removed from the grit of Southport’s Fourth Division grind, but Dewsnip adapted admirably.
However, football in America was as unpredictable as ever. and by 1979 Dewsnip was on the move again, this time to the Atlanta Chiefs. The Chiefs were another respected NASL outfit, and he added 17 appearances to his tally during the 1979 campaign, though he failed to find the back of the goal this time. Nevertheless, his professionalism and quiet determination earned respect from teammates and fans alike.
In 1980, George Dewsnip dropped down to the American Soccer League (ASL) to play for the Columbus Magic — a club with less glamour but plenty of heart. The ASL was a grittier, more modest competition compared to the NASL, but Dewsnip continued to give everything he had.
After his American adventure, Dewsnip returned briefly to Southport, hoping to rekindle his playing days back in England. But fate had other ideas. A persistent back problem, worsened by a congenital spinal condition, flared up badly. Despite treatment and rest, the pain became unmanageable, and by the age of 26, Dewsnip was forced to retire from the game he loved.
It was a cruel ending for a player who had given so much and had so much more to give. Sports careers are often precarious, but for Dewsnip, it felt particularly unjust. The same drive and energy that had powered him from Walkden’s school fields to American stadiums were now trapped in a body that simply couldn’t keep pace.