Wolves memory: A knock at the door changed Peter Knowles' life

Sunday marks 50 years since Peter Knowles, a forward who could have reached great heights, played his last game for the club, turning his back on football for religion.

Here, Express & Star Wolves fan columnist John Lalley, who was there to see Knowles don gold and black for the final time, provides a fascinating look at one of the most remarkable stories in Molineux history.

Just a few weeks previously, man had miraculously set foot on the face of the Moon.

Now, startling events were in the process of lift-off at Molineux. Swathes of bewildered Wolves fans reckoned that Peter Knowles himself had taken the lunar path and was now occupying a completely different planet from the rest of us.

Knowles, the most outrageously talented player to grace the club for decades was voluntarily calling time on an already distinguished career just a few days short of his 24th birthday.

Knowles of all people; the handsome, headstrong icon of the terraces, the flash jack the lad, and a '60s swinger if ever there was one, was about to embark on a quite startling personal transformation.

Football was stunned by his announcement that the home game against Nottingham Forest on September 8th would be his last as a professional footballer.

Amazement, scepticism and a measure of amusement abounded but he had concluded that it was impossible to reconcile the cynical world of football and fully embrace his recent religious calling as a Jehovah’s Witness. A chance ring of the doorbell at his home by a visiting evangelist had changed his life and fundamentally redefined his character and he hasn’t wavered in his beliefs in the ensuing fifty years.

Football instead of shaping his future became a power and a culture to corrupt. He saw himself faced with a moral choice; the fawning idolatry that he had previously thrived upon now repulsed him.

He remains wholly committed to his faith, utterly steadfast, and to this day he can often be found in Wolverhampton’s city centre politely and sincerely espousing his cause.

His engaging kindness and thoughtful conversation exudes a sense of contentment; he has not a scintilla of regret regarding the life-changing choice that he made. Instead, he genuinely regrets any flashes of arrogance he displayed in his youth and wishes that he had never become a professional footballer in the first place.

A host of Wolves fans privileged enough to have seen him perform so sublimely respectfully beg to differ.

The dismissal of the legendary manager Stan Cullis and relegation from the First Division left the club in disarray but as the team floundered, Knowles thrived. He was a predatory goal scorer and an artistic creator with a razor sharp football antenna capable of devastating brilliance.

His denouement against Nottingham Forest remains just about the strangest fixture I have ever experienced at Molineux.

Wolves’ manager Bill McGarry writing in his programme notes about his departing star declared that ‘His training gear will be laid out as usual on Monday and I expect him to be here.’ This was to prove simple wishful thinking; McGarry like so many others had underestimated the strength of Peter’s resolve.

The match itself was exhilarating but entirely incidental; the build up, the ninety minutes and the aftermath emphatically and implacably revolved around Knowles.

Wolves inexplicably surrendered a three goal lead which acted as a distraction but the final whistle reconnected us with the real drama. Knowles didn’t hang about for any handshakes let alone any protracted fond farewells. He fairly sprinted at full pelt towards the player’s tunnel and the sanctuary of the dressing room.

I stood watching from the South Bank terrace struggling like so many other fans to make sense of such a bizarre narrative. I was just an impressionable kid who like so many doted on Knowles, but I sensed an air of finality and felt absolutely certain that this indeed was the last we would see of Peter in a Wolves shirt.

The club optimistically retained his registration for many years but no amount of persuasion could make him reverse his decision.

So, 191 appearances and 64 goals for Wolves are the raw statistics of his stint at Molineux and viewed in isolation, it is an impressive record but there is another side to the story of Knowles. It’s a triumph, a personal vindication.

After stints delivering milk and cleaning windows he became a familiar figure working contentedly in a city centre department store until his retirement. Frequently recognised, he was always happy to patiently reminisce with curious admirers who so enjoyed his precocious skills.

Even after half a century, I’ll never forget his mercurial presence and his exciting impact at Molineux, but without kicking a ball, I reckon that for the last fifty years Knowles has played the game of his life; an absolute blinder in fact.