Gaustad's aim is to stock every sports book written in English, and many that are not, including Rock Bottom, the Paul Merson story

ON SATURDAY

The main topic of conversation at the 10th anniversary party of Sportspages bookshop was the Scorpion. Rene Higuita and his Wednesday night tumble - the audacity of it, the 10,000 mega-watt grin, the cataract- inducing nature of the shirt he was wearing - were being analysed nano- second by nano-second across the crowded shop. Several attempts were made to re-run the save, but since most of the party-goers were enthusiasts rather than practitioners of sport, none of the impressions were very effective. And one attempt, undertaken by someone who had clearly enjoyed the hospitality, looked as if it might lead to permanent injury.

Such conversations, displaying as they did wide-eyed and legless enthusiasm for sport, were exactly what John Gaustad, the owner of Sportspages, would have hoped to hear. He opened the shop on the hunch that, since sport mattered, people might like the opportunity to buy books about it - a notion which had apparently not occurred to those who run standard bookshops and consign sport to a couple of shelves between rug-making and trainspotting.

"It's the unifying experience, sport," Gaustad said from his office in the shop's basement a couple of hours before the party started. "It's an immensely important aspect of human life. Well, blokes' life anyway."

Indeed over the past 10 years, Sportspages itself has become a not insignificant aspect of human life. Well, this bloke's life anyway. The stock is extraordinary: Gaustad's aim is to find a place on his shelves for every sports book written in the English language, and many that are not, including Rock Bottom, the Paul Merson story. The London and Manchester shops are, for instance, the only places to go should you require the latest copy of 482 Days: Not the first British ice hockey club fanzine, not to mention the best titled sports book ever written: Why Life Imitates the World Series by Thomas Boswell. Indeed, so extensive is his selection of books about that particular subject that Gaustad boasts of American customers frequently commenting that the shop's baseball section is bigger than anything they have seen in the States.

Gaustad had the idea for Sportspages after working, on his arrival from New Zealand, for Heffer's, the academic bookshop in Cambridge. "After eight years there I realised I'd got as high as I could without being called Heffer," he said. "I just looked around and thought there must be a market for a specialist sports bookshop."

Not that his bank manager shared the vision: he limited a loan to Gaustad on the grounds that if it was such a great idea someone would have opened one before. For a while, Gaustad was worried that the banker's pessimism might be well founded. On the first day of opening he sold one book: Concise Light on Yoga. He still has a publicity snap taken in the early days. It shows three browsers taking books from half-empty shelves. You cannot help noticing that one of the browsers is John Gaustad himself.

But then, six months later and cash not so much flowing as drought stricken, a Walsall librarian came into the shop and bought pounds 1,250 worth of books on the spot. From that moment things took off. Fever Pitch and fanzines opened up a vast market that had hitherto been assumed not to exist: book- buying football fans (David Dein, chairman of Arsenal, incidentally, has been seen in the place, stocking up on Gooners fanzines to see what the fans are saying about him). At the same time the video market boomed (there were 50 sports videos in production in 1985; today Gaustad stocks 1,200). Soon things reached the point when, one day last year, Ian Botham signed and sold more than 800 copies of his autobiography in the shop. "After he'd finished we sat down and had a glass of wine or two," recalled Gaustad. "And smiled a lot."

Not that every event he has held has been such a money-spinner. When my book, Are You Watching Liverpool?, was launched with a party at his London shop they sold 24 copies. But that is what happens when you invite your mates along. I expect about 50 copies were shop-lifted.

The single most important reason, though, why a trip to Sportspages is such a pleasure is the staff. Not only do they appear to know significantly more about sport than me, they all seem to have computerised memories of the present condition of the publishing industry. Where did Gaustad find these paragons, these assistants so knowledgeable they make Statto look like a sad sod in a dressing gown?

"You're going to like this," he said. "I advertised in the Independent. I always ask them which sports they love but also which they can't stand. It's always the same candidate that comes up." Which is? "Ice dancing."

Not that that stops Gaustad stocking Figure Skating: A Celebration by Beverley Smith. Indeed the only books he refuses to hold are those about sports which involve killing animals.

You get the feeling John Gaustad and his staff have probably read everything they do sell. "I'm obsessed with sport," he said. "Running Sportspages is the next best thing to being an All Black."

And then he paused and smiled. "No, there is a big gap between the two, you're right."