The making of a Legend

Two things made me laugh this morning. And boy, did I need a pick-me-up as the thick cloud, that had settled comfortably above our hill overnight, dumped more rain onto our already sodden gardens.

No chance today of any distant views across the Bristol Channel to Somerset and Devon. And the magical Brecon Beacons…well they were somewhere behind our house. And my Wife’s Choir tea party; could be a wet one I thought to myself.

Paperboys in this part of Wales are brave souls. Every day they stride up our cobblestone path with the nonchalance of someone who is inwardly praying that Wini is locked up somewhere indoors. Welsh Sheepdogs (and not Border Collies). Yes, Welsh Sheepdogs can be very pretty. And Wini is no disappointment in this respect. Tall and beautifully proportioned. Powerful but gifted with an Oxbridge intelligence. An intelligence which has determined that Paperboys….and of course Postmen are dangerous beings.

Well this morning she was locked away in the back of the house, consequently my copy of the Sunday Times was delivered safely with a cup of filter coffee.

And there on the front page….

‘Galloway to be suspended from the Commons over Iraq’.

Gosh what terrible news for ‘Gorgeous George’ I mused. The Times reported that the one month suspension from the Commons ‘is one of the most severe given to an MP’. Another month on the beach in Majorca. Tough I guess. Very tough.

And not only will he be suspended, but he may be asked to apologise for his behaviour; now that would take up some Parliamentary time, saving us all from further democratic control.

Oh and the other funny thing…..Ed Balls, the Schools Secretary.

‘Our task in the next decade is for our education system to become world class’.

Whatever happened to ‘Education. Educaton. Education.’ I pity the poor Head teachers out in Palestine. No doubt the next beneficiaries of the Blair Project.

I was sidetracked….sorry the making of a Legend.

I left my office in Newport just before six, contemplating the long drive back to our ‘new’ home in Monmouth. An old house high up on the Kymin overlooking the Wye Valley. A house in need of serious restoration.

Almost time for the six o’clock news on Radio 4, I thought to myself , and without any conscious effort I turned the car radio up a fraction. The weather had been atrocious for weeks and I feared that it was about to turn severe.

It was February 24th 1993.

Although the family had known for almost two years, since major intestinal surgery in April 1991, the news shook me.

I turned right when left would have taken me towards the motorway. Five minutes later I was back where I had started. And Bobby Moore was dead.

The news of Bobby Moore’s death stunned not only the world of soccer but the loss was felt by a whole generation. The generation that had lived through the Sixties.

Tributes to a Sporting Hero poured in from all over the World. Pele said, ‘he was my friend as well as the greatest defender I ever played against. The world has lost one of the greatest football players and an honourable gentleman.’ (Sir) Geoff Hurst said that ‘if the world had played Mars, he would have been man of the match.’

And Brian Clough…what a Legend.

Most people revere his career as a Manager with Derby County and Nottingham Forest….I have edited out the rest.

But Clough was also a truly great player.

Brian Clough was a prolific scorer for his hometown club Middlesbrough and after his debut as a centre forward in 1955 at the age of 20 he scored 204 goals in 222 appearances, and was capped twice for England against Wales and Sweden.

In 1959 he moved to Sunderland for £45,000 where he was equally impressive scoring 63 goals in 74 appearances.

Indeed he set a post war scoring record with 251 goals in 274 appearances during his time with the North East clubs. A knee injury sustained against Bury ended his playing career on Boxing Day 1962.


And George Best……now he was truly the best.

But the greatest of them all..... Jack Howarth.

January 16th 1967, Aldershot 1 Reading 0, FA Cup 2nd Rd. A crowd of 16801 witnessed the greatest goal ever seen at the Rec. I’ve been asked many times why was it such a great goal? How was it scored? What was the build up?

I’m not going to say.

Because it is this unique personal feeling and imagery that makes the Legend. All of my senses gathered together in one simple event. It wasn’t just the crowd. The victory over Reading, the ‘old enemy’, the fact that Jack scored, the weather, the joy of the occasion. Legends are born when we all share the same feelings. But the real measure of Legend is that it grows stronger with time.

Bobby Moore is a greater player today than he ever was when he was alive. And George Best….forget the booze. Forget the women. No remember all of that. That was the emotion that engulfed George. An image stronger in my mind today than ever it was when he took the ball out of Gordon Bank’s hand and ‘scored’ at Windsor Park, Belfast.


Terry Brown, ex Manager Aldershot Town AFC….we all clapped and cheered when he made his final wave. At least I think we did.