Slipperduke
The Camden Cad
Several years ago, upon the release of his autobiography, Sir Bobby Robson held a signing session in his home town of Newcastle. Thousands of Geordies turned up, all clutching their books and waiting patiently for an audience with the great man. One of them, so the possibly apocryphal story goes, was called Dave and, after spending most of the day queuing, he finally reached the front.
"How many of these have you signed, Bobby?" Dave asked as Robson scribbled a message in his book.
"Millions, son!" laughed Robson. "Millions!"
Dave shook Robson's hand and then darted off to the pub to show the book to his friends, but it wasn't until he passed it around that he realised what had happened.
"To Dave," read the inscription. "All the best, Bobby Millions."
No English manager has ever been so successful across so many of Europe's premier leagues, but when it comes to eulogies, no-one will want to let the memories of those successes get in the way of their memories of the man. Sir Bobby wasn't just a great manager, he was a great man. For as superhuman as his achievements were, it was his human side that everyone cherished so dearly. Enthusiastic, bubbly, warm and wise, he was also endearingly forgetful and gloriously eccentric. He forgot players' names and he got people mixed up, but he was nobody's fool.
He was a defiant guardian of football's values, a respected voice in a sport that is increasingly obsessed with money. He battled cancer with bravery and dignity, defeating it against the odds on several occasions, before finally succumbing yesterday morning. His last public appearance, fittingly, was at a benefit game for the Sir Bobby Robson Foundation, a charity that he had devoted his final days to publicising.
Farewell then, Sir Bobby Millions. It is perhaps a cliche to say that in your absence football will never be the same again but, without you, it certainly won't ever be as much fun.
www.sirbobbyrobsonfoundation.org.uk
"How many of these have you signed, Bobby?" Dave asked as Robson scribbled a message in his book.
"Millions, son!" laughed Robson. "Millions!"
Dave shook Robson's hand and then darted off to the pub to show the book to his friends, but it wasn't until he passed it around that he realised what had happened.
"To Dave," read the inscription. "All the best, Bobby Millions."
No English manager has ever been so successful across so many of Europe's premier leagues, but when it comes to eulogies, no-one will want to let the memories of those successes get in the way of their memories of the man. Sir Bobby wasn't just a great manager, he was a great man. For as superhuman as his achievements were, it was his human side that everyone cherished so dearly. Enthusiastic, bubbly, warm and wise, he was also endearingly forgetful and gloriously eccentric. He forgot players' names and he got people mixed up, but he was nobody's fool.
He was a defiant guardian of football's values, a respected voice in a sport that is increasingly obsessed with money. He battled cancer with bravery and dignity, defeating it against the odds on several occasions, before finally succumbing yesterday morning. His last public appearance, fittingly, was at a benefit game for the Sir Bobby Robson Foundation, a charity that he had devoted his final days to publicising.
Farewell then, Sir Bobby Millions. It is perhaps a cliche to say that in your absence football will never be the same again but, without you, it certainly won't ever be as much fun.
www.sirbobbyrobsonfoundation.org.uk
