I feel like football at the top level is decaying, becoming a soulless plaything of the super wealthy. But they can never take away the legacy of someone like Sir Bobby from us. We should be immensely proud of him
Sir Bobby Charlton has died
- Thread starter Solius
- Start date
@harms The Guardian have used your montage of Sir Bobby in their obituary for him.
I've watched the whole thing, and I still haven't got a clue which was his stronger foot, let alone when he starts taking corners with both at the end. What an incredible player.
I've watched the whole thing, and I still haven't got a clue which was his stronger foot, let alone when he starts taking corners with both at the end. What an incredible player.
RIP
No, Sir Bobby was the last to go.
They're all together now
Rest in peace Sir, always a legend.
He's the final link with the United I starting supporting as a little kid. The end of an era 
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Rip
R.I.P.
yes. I realised that when you mentioned it. His dorminant foot should be right but his left leg is as good as many left legged footballers. Especially when he dribbled, he can use left leg to feint his opponent wuth such ease. Something I can't remember any present player that can do that. Even ronaldo uses his right leg predominantly in his dribble. His left is more of passes and finishing.
RIP Sir Bobby.
Absolute legend!
Absolute legend!
RIP Sir Bobby. Thank you for everything you did for this club.
Neville speaks brilliantly here.
Also puts into sharp focus the decade of drift that has occurred at the club.
Was saddened to hear of this. RIP, great man.
Many thanks, Bert. Not been a great year to be honest. I also had a feeling sir Bobby wouldn't last the year knowing how deadly dementia is.
Rest in peace. Thoughts are with his friends and family.
From the crash itself, I think he was the last. Wilf McGuinness is still alive from that time / cohort, though he wasn't selected for the game due to injury. Jeff Whitefoot too, still alive at 89.
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Been dreading to one of the absolute greats.
Watched this this morning and balled my eyes out. Feel like a family member has died.He's the final link with the United I starting supporting as a little kid. The end of an era
He is the greatest. Being Irish and a Man United fan, the joy that both Sir Bobby and Jack Charlton brought is hard to put into words. They had an up and down relationship but when Jack surprised Sir Bobby after years of not speaking in his lifetime achievement award on BBC. Jack says, 'He's the greatest player of all time and he's my brother'. The emotion on both men's face would bring a tear to a stone.
He was a right footed player but he suffered an injury to his right foot, if I remember correctly due to the air crash, the club were so short of players and in order to play he hid the injury and strengthened his left foot by just striking a ball against a wall at OT., until he could use either foot.
Both games possibly I'd say. Impression I got from Pep speaking yesterday is that City would like to acknowledge him in some way next week.
Love this from Ander
Tweet
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RIP to the great man. Probably was a bit hard in past few years with his dementia and all but he is in better hands now.
I wonder if SAF and Sir Bobby ever played against each other during their playing days.
I wonder if SAF and Sir Bobby ever played against each other during their playing days.
Not my words but particularly poignant at this very sad time.
Yesterday was a very sad day. Everyone's time on earth comes to an end unfortunately, and Sir Bobby has left us. He must have carried such pain through life for the friends that he lost in 1958. A team on its way to unimaginable glory cut down before it had really begun.
The following poem always brings a tear to the eye, and today much more than any day for a very long time.
'Twas the night before Christmas, Old Trafford was bare.
The staff all gone home, there was nobody there.
The lights cast a shadow, a soft glimmer which
lit up the soft green grass on the pitch.
Just as the clock gave out its twelfth chime
An old man appeared, as if frozen in time.
He gazed at the tunnel, then broke out in voice
"ITS TIME TO BEGIN. let's HAVE YOU MY BOYS"
Out from the tunnel appeared a lone figure
Same as in life, only infinitely bigger
The old man called out as he slowly drew near
"good evening Duncan, are the rest of you here"
The figure broke out in wide open smile
"Good Evening Sir Matt, it has been a long while
The rest are all coming, they'll be here soon, "
As seven more shadows were cast by the moon.
Whelan and Bent, Pegg, Taylor and Byrne,
Jones, and Colman, they came out in turn.
He greeted each one, just by calling their name
then proudly announced "do you fancy a game"
They took to the pitch, and the still night was broken
By leather on leather, not one word was spoken
They played once again, like they did long before
And imagined the sound of the Old Trafford roar
Edwards called out "come on lads let's pretend
That we've just scored a goal at the old Stretford End"
As they ran to the edge of the pitch by the goal
There in the stands sat a solitary soul.
His eyes were all puffy, his cheeks wet with tears
As his mind wandered back to those wonderful years
"come down and join us" they cried all as one
"yes come down and join them" said Matt "go on son"
The lonely man stood and with much pain he said
"I'm afraid I can't play with you, you are all dead.
You are all ghosts, and I am alive
That was the price that I paid to survive"
My role was to go on, inspire the team
And finally realise Matt Busbys dream
To tell of your greatness, and as I get older
To burden the weight of your life on my shoulders. "
The ghost of Sir Matt then raised up his head
Giving out a loud groan, he finally said
"Bobby, You survived, that much is true
But we wouldn't be here if it were not for you
For you are the one who has kept us alive
That was the reason you had to survive
If you were with us, all we have would be gone
And the game that we play could no longer go on
If you can't understand why it happened this way
Then come here and watch when United play
They sing about us, they remember us all
We live and we breathe with each kick of the ball
The legends that live here, Robson and Best,
Cantona, Law, Giggs, Scholes and the rest
They are us, we are them, we are all here as one
And that is the reason United goes on
So come down and join us, we're begging you do
You are still one of us, and we're still one of you"
And then Bobbys face rose and he gave them a smile
And he said "I would love to come play for a while"
They played and they played, as they did in the past
Only not quite as skilful, and not quite as fast
And when it was over, and when it was done
They'd defeated Benfica by four goals to one.
Then Sir Matt said "lads, its been fun you know
But It's now Christmas day, and we really must go"
They walked to the front of the stadium and turned
And Sir Bobby said "there is something I've learned"
"You did not die, on that February night
You're still here with us, as you're with me tonight
And you'll live on forever as long as we play
As the ghosts disappeared down Sir Matt Busby way. '
Rest in peace Sir Bobby, you are a true Legend! .
Yesterday was a very sad day. Everyone's time on earth comes to an end unfortunately, and Sir Bobby has left us. He must have carried such pain through life for the friends that he lost in 1958. A team on its way to unimaginable glory cut down before it had really begun.
The following poem always brings a tear to the eye, and today much more than any day for a very long time.
'Twas the night before Christmas, Old Trafford was bare.
The staff all gone home, there was nobody there.
The lights cast a shadow, a soft glimmer which
lit up the soft green grass on the pitch.
Just as the clock gave out its twelfth chime
An old man appeared, as if frozen in time.
He gazed at the tunnel, then broke out in voice
"ITS TIME TO BEGIN. let's HAVE YOU MY BOYS"
Out from the tunnel appeared a lone figure
Same as in life, only infinitely bigger
The old man called out as he slowly drew near
"good evening Duncan, are the rest of you here"
The figure broke out in wide open smile
"Good Evening Sir Matt, it has been a long while
The rest are all coming, they'll be here soon, "
As seven more shadows were cast by the moon.
Whelan and Bent, Pegg, Taylor and Byrne,
Jones, and Colman, they came out in turn.
He greeted each one, just by calling their name
then proudly announced "do you fancy a game"
They took to the pitch, and the still night was broken
By leather on leather, not one word was spoken
They played once again, like they did long before
And imagined the sound of the Old Trafford roar
Edwards called out "come on lads let's pretend
That we've just scored a goal at the old Stretford End"
As they ran to the edge of the pitch by the goal
There in the stands sat a solitary soul.
His eyes were all puffy, his cheeks wet with tears
As his mind wandered back to those wonderful years
"come down and join us" they cried all as one
"yes come down and join them" said Matt "go on son"
The lonely man stood and with much pain he said
"I'm afraid I can't play with you, you are all dead.
You are all ghosts, and I am alive
That was the price that I paid to survive"
My role was to go on, inspire the team
And finally realise Matt Busbys dream
To tell of your greatness, and as I get older
To burden the weight of your life on my shoulders. "
The ghost of Sir Matt then raised up his head
Giving out a loud groan, he finally said
"Bobby, You survived, that much is true
But we wouldn't be here if it were not for you
For you are the one who has kept us alive
That was the reason you had to survive
If you were with us, all we have would be gone
And the game that we play could no longer go on
If you can't understand why it happened this way
Then come here and watch when United play
They sing about us, they remember us all
We live and we breathe with each kick of the ball
The legends that live here, Robson and Best,
Cantona, Law, Giggs, Scholes and the rest
They are us, we are them, we are all here as one
And that is the reason United goes on
So come down and join us, we're begging you do
You are still one of us, and we're still one of you"
And then Bobbys face rose and he gave them a smile
And he said "I would love to come play for a while"
They played and they played, as they did in the past
Only not quite as skilful, and not quite as fast
And when it was over, and when it was done
They'd defeated Benfica by four goals to one.
Then Sir Matt said "lads, its been fun you know
But It's now Christmas day, and we really must go"
They walked to the front of the stadium and turned
And Sir Bobby said "there is something I've learned"
"You did not die, on that February night
You're still here with us, as you're with me tonight
And you'll live on forever as long as we play
As the ghosts disappeared down Sir Matt Busby way. '
Rest in peace Sir Bobby, you are a true Legend! .
When Bobby's shoulder dipped, you knew an explosion was coming... just waited for the net to bulge!
Thanks for all the memories Sir Bobby and RIP.
Thanks for all the memories Sir Bobby and RIP.
He was "The Legend"
He was "Man Utd"
End of an era.
Thanks Sir Bobby for the memories.
He was "Man Utd"
End of an era.
Thanks Sir Bobby for the memories.
Best English player in football history imo.
Of all the players I've met throughout my life, no one represented Manchester United better then Sir Bobby. He is royalty.
Very poignant,
Thanks for posting.
It isn't even a discussion either.
As a kid, when I fell in love with football (started watching and playing), I came across this book, of which I've posted a few screenshots below. It's a book about the history of european football, focused on the Euro Cup with stories about famous players and club teams thrown in - from 40-50s to Euro '88. I'd read it countless times, almost religiously. The language is Bulgarian, because I am Bulgarian, and the book is from the Communist era. My favourite story of all was/is the one about Sir Bobby Charlton and Manchester United. Basically what made me fell in love with this club.
I thought it might be interesting for some to see what's been written "behind the iron curtain".
Translated it the best I can.
The book's called "The new Oranje Kingdom"
I thought it might be interesting for some to see what's been written "behind the iron curtain".
Translated it the best I can.
The book's called "The new Oranje Kingdom"
"To Death and Back" (or a tale about the gentleman Bobby and the "Reds" of Manchester)
MANCHESTER, 1878. A few railway workers from the local station, who play football in their spare time, decide to form a club: "Newton Heath". With their very modest budget they buy 11 red shirts and one leather ball. The pitch is a nearby meadow, filled with sharp stones on which the players often scrape their knees. The monthly meeting is lit by candle light. No, nothing mysterious - it's just that the newly formed club is so poor they can't afford to pay for electricity.
1908, Newton Heath - now Manchester United, wins the Division 1 title for the first time and the attendance averages 50 000.
MANCHESTER, 1945. Old Trafford stadium is completely demolished by nazi bombs. A new manager is appointed, someone called Matt Busby - a scotsman, son of a miner from Lankarkshire, orphaned from a very young age. Wage - 6 pounds a week. Quickly earning a reputation for being the best manager in the UK, Busby becomes the most famous scotsman in England. They call him "the creator of an incredible galaxy of talents". In 1956, "the Busby Babes" which average age is 20 years and 2 months, win the title. In the freshly formed European Champions Cup, in their first game they beat Anderlecht 10-0. They eliminate Borussia Dortmund and Athletic Bilbao only to be stopped by the mighty Real Madrid in the semi finals.
MUNICH, February the 6th, 1958, 16.10Hour. The mood in the twin engine airplane "Elizabethan" is great. Manchester United had just drawn 3 - 3 with Crvena Zvezda in Belgrade and the road to the semi-finals is open. The boys are joking about taking on Di Stefano and his team. Matt Busby and his old friend and journalist Frank Taylor open a bottle of champagne. The stewardess, miss Bellis, announces: "Ladies and Gentlemen, we wish you a pleasant flight. We'll serve tea shortly.
The plane slowly gains speed on the frozen runway. The pilot Kenneth Rayment suddenly shouts: "My God, we won't take off!"...
In a deafening crash, the plane hits a nearby building. A fire breaks out. The cries of the survivors trying to get out, crawling over the dead, are heard far away. After a horrific 54 seconds the "Busby Babes" are no more. Amongst the ones that lose their lives are the captain of the English national team Roger Byrne, national players Bill Whelan and Tommy Taylor. The winger David Pegg, reserve players Mark Jones and Geoff Bent. The whole world anxiously follows the critical condition of Duncan Edwards. The darling of the passionate fans, Edwards made his debut at Manchester United at the age of 16, and by the age of 18, he was already wearing the national team shirt. Experts speak with enthusiasm about his explosiveness and two-footed strikes and consider him the biggest talent in the UK. After a 14-day battle with death in a Munich hospital, the blond giant with joyful eyes loses his final and most important match.
Reserve goalkeeper Harry Gregg becomes a national hero. Severely wounded, he returns to the burning plane to help his dying comrades. The same year, Gregg is declared the best goalkeeper at the World Cup in Sweden, but shortly after, he is removed from the Northern Ireland national team for disciplinary reasons. The offense? Nothing significant. Harry Gregg simply refused to travel by plane to Madrid for a friendly match with Spain...
Journalist Frank Taylor is buried under the wreckage of the plane. His right leg is immobile, and breathing is severely compromised. Nine ribs are broken. His colleague, Daily Mail's photojournalist Peter Howard, pulls him out, and then decides to help him in the strangest way: he lights a cigarette and places it between his teeth. Taylor's last thought is, "Now I'm in for it with my wife. I've started smoking again..." He regains consciousness in the hospital, and the first thing he hears is, "Morphine! Morphine!" Words he remembers for a lifetime. After 21 surgeries and two years in a wheelchair, Frank Taylor picks up the pen again and becomes a world-renowned football commentator.
A young player is thrown together with his chair 60 meters from the crash site. His face is covered in blood. Plunged into deep shock, he silently watches the burning bodies in the snow for a long time. Then he starts crying. This young man's name is Robert Charlton. After the tragedy at Munich Airport, Bobby Charlton vows never to play football again and never to fly on an airplane. Having seen death up close, he returns to the small town of Ashington, where he was born on July 10, 1938.
The father, a quiet miner, is a complete opposite of the mother, a cheerful and vivacious woman. She proudly recounts countless stories of her father, Tanner Milburn, a former Leeds United goalkeeper, and her four brothers who played for Leeds and Leicester for many years. Miss Elizabeth Charlton lives with one dream - for her two sons, Jackie and Bobby, to become professional footballers. Every Saturday, she takes them to the stadium in Ashington, and on other days, she patiently teaches them the secrets of dribbling in their small family garden.
One day in Ashington, professional talent scout for Manchester United, Joe Armstrong, arrives to watch a match between school teams. "It was a cold, foggy morning," Armstrong recalls, "and I could hardly distinguish the two teams. Suddenly, in the fog, it was as if lightning struck: I saw the virtuoso play of 14-year-old Bobby Charlton." Back in Manchester, Joe Armstrong goes to the manager of the first team, Matt Busby. "Matt, I found a boy in Ashington that we need to get right away. He's a genius!" Not long after, a short, blond-haired youth arrives at the central station of the gray and smoky Manchester. He's dressed in an old, oversized coat, and he carries a cardboard suitcase, which holds all his belongings. In a timid voice, the youth asks the first policeman he encounters for directions to Old Trafford stadium. The policeman looks at him condescendingly but still politely explains the way. This is how Bobby Charlton enters the world of football legends.
Time heals everything. Just three months after the plane crash, Bobby once again makes the journey from Ashington to Manchester. This time, it's for good. For two decades, he's an undisputed leader of Manchester United and the English national team, with whom he becomes a world champion in 1966. He plays brilliantly wit his head, literally but also figuratively, possessing an exceptional skill to organize his team's game. Another virtue of his is revealed when, in 1965, the Daily Mail newspaper organizes an anonymous survey among football referees with the single question: "Who is the most fair and honest English footballer?" In all responses, only one name is mentioned: Bobby Charlton. In nearly 1000 matches, he not only is never sent off the field but also nobody remembers him ever raising his voice even once. Just one look from him, and the uncompromising Nobby Stiles starts behaving like a pastor on a charitable mission. Bobby cannot stand the scandals of his teammate George Best and refuses to share a dressing room with the capricious, long-haired, and eccentric Northern Irishman. Bobby Charlton, the last great gentleman of British football, is too popular and respected worldwide. This is attested by a story recounted by his friend, journalist Frank Taylor. Once in Rome, Taylor buys a book and in a conversation with the shopkeeper mentions that he is from Manchester. "Oh, Bobby Charlton plays there," the shopkeeper exclaims. "In that case, you'll pay me half." Taylor cannot resist the temptation to mention that he personally knows the famous fellow townsman. The Italian shopkeeper smiles broadly, "Signore, allow me to have this tremendous pleasure of accepting the book as a modest gift from me."
Bobby Charlton's happiest day is May 29, 1968. At Wembley, in a dramatic match that lasted 120 minutes, Manchester United beats Benfica Lisbon 4:1. When captain Bobby Charlton receives the European Champions Cup, the entire stadium chants his name. Tears appear in the eyes of many. Not just from joy - the memories of Duncan Edwards, Tommy Taylor, and the others, are still alive. In the famous stadium's dressing room, Matt Busby smiles for the first time in ten years. "Now I can go. We've fulfilled our duty to those who perished in Munich!" In 1972, Bobby Charlton retires from football and becomes the coach of Preston. Things don't go well. In order to remain in the Second Division, the team must win at least one point in their last match against the leaders Middlesbrough, whose coach is his brother, Jackie Charlton. Everyone expects Jackie to make a small concession, especially since this point is meaningless for his Middlesbrough - the team has long since qualified for the First Division. Nothing of the sort! Middlesbrough wins 4:2, and Preston is relegated. After the match, Jackie Charlton calmly states, "This is the fairest way. As for Bobby, he has no coaching talent and should look for another job." After this match, Bobby Charlton tears up his coaching diploma and joins a travel agency.
MANCHESTER, 1878. A few railway workers from the local station, who play football in their spare time, decide to form a club: "Newton Heath". With their very modest budget they buy 11 red shirts and one leather ball. The pitch is a nearby meadow, filled with sharp stones on which the players often scrape their knees. The monthly meeting is lit by candle light. No, nothing mysterious - it's just that the newly formed club is so poor they can't afford to pay for electricity.
1908, Newton Heath - now Manchester United, wins the Division 1 title for the first time and the attendance averages 50 000.
MANCHESTER, 1945. Old Trafford stadium is completely demolished by nazi bombs. A new manager is appointed, someone called Matt Busby - a scotsman, son of a miner from Lankarkshire, orphaned from a very young age. Wage - 6 pounds a week. Quickly earning a reputation for being the best manager in the UK, Busby becomes the most famous scotsman in England. They call him "the creator of an incredible galaxy of talents". In 1956, "the Busby Babes" which average age is 20 years and 2 months, win the title. In the freshly formed European Champions Cup, in their first game they beat Anderlecht 10-0. They eliminate Borussia Dortmund and Athletic Bilbao only to be stopped by the mighty Real Madrid in the semi finals.
MUNICH, February the 6th, 1958, 16.10Hour. The mood in the twin engine airplane "Elizabethan" is great. Manchester United had just drawn 3 - 3 with Crvena Zvezda in Belgrade and the road to the semi-finals is open. The boys are joking about taking on Di Stefano and his team. Matt Busby and his old friend and journalist Frank Taylor open a bottle of champagne. The stewardess, miss Bellis, announces: "Ladies and Gentlemen, we wish you a pleasant flight. We'll serve tea shortly.
The plane slowly gains speed on the frozen runway. The pilot Kenneth Rayment suddenly shouts: "My God, we won't take off!"...
In a deafening crash, the plane hits a nearby building. A fire breaks out. The cries of the survivors trying to get out, crawling over the dead, are heard far away. After a horrific 54 seconds the "Busby Babes" are no more. Amongst the ones that lose their lives are the captain of the English national team Roger Byrne, national players Bill Whelan and Tommy Taylor. The winger David Pegg, reserve players Mark Jones and Geoff Bent. The whole world anxiously follows the critical condition of Duncan Edwards. The darling of the passionate fans, Edwards made his debut at Manchester United at the age of 16, and by the age of 18, he was already wearing the national team shirt. Experts speak with enthusiasm about his explosiveness and two-footed strikes and consider him the biggest talent in the UK. After a 14-day battle with death in a Munich hospital, the blond giant with joyful eyes loses his final and most important match.
Reserve goalkeeper Harry Gregg becomes a national hero. Severely wounded, he returns to the burning plane to help his dying comrades. The same year, Gregg is declared the best goalkeeper at the World Cup in Sweden, but shortly after, he is removed from the Northern Ireland national team for disciplinary reasons. The offense? Nothing significant. Harry Gregg simply refused to travel by plane to Madrid for a friendly match with Spain...
Journalist Frank Taylor is buried under the wreckage of the plane. His right leg is immobile, and breathing is severely compromised. Nine ribs are broken. His colleague, Daily Mail's photojournalist Peter Howard, pulls him out, and then decides to help him in the strangest way: he lights a cigarette and places it between his teeth. Taylor's last thought is, "Now I'm in for it with my wife. I've started smoking again..." He regains consciousness in the hospital, and the first thing he hears is, "Morphine! Morphine!" Words he remembers for a lifetime. After 21 surgeries and two years in a wheelchair, Frank Taylor picks up the pen again and becomes a world-renowned football commentator.
A young player is thrown together with his chair 60 meters from the crash site. His face is covered in blood. Plunged into deep shock, he silently watches the burning bodies in the snow for a long time. Then he starts crying. This young man's name is Robert Charlton. After the tragedy at Munich Airport, Bobby Charlton vows never to play football again and never to fly on an airplane. Having seen death up close, he returns to the small town of Ashington, where he was born on July 10, 1938.
The father, a quiet miner, is a complete opposite of the mother, a cheerful and vivacious woman. She proudly recounts countless stories of her father, Tanner Milburn, a former Leeds United goalkeeper, and her four brothers who played for Leeds and Leicester for many years. Miss Elizabeth Charlton lives with one dream - for her two sons, Jackie and Bobby, to become professional footballers. Every Saturday, she takes them to the stadium in Ashington, and on other days, she patiently teaches them the secrets of dribbling in their small family garden.
One day in Ashington, professional talent scout for Manchester United, Joe Armstrong, arrives to watch a match between school teams. "It was a cold, foggy morning," Armstrong recalls, "and I could hardly distinguish the two teams. Suddenly, in the fog, it was as if lightning struck: I saw the virtuoso play of 14-year-old Bobby Charlton." Back in Manchester, Joe Armstrong goes to the manager of the first team, Matt Busby. "Matt, I found a boy in Ashington that we need to get right away. He's a genius!" Not long after, a short, blond-haired youth arrives at the central station of the gray and smoky Manchester. He's dressed in an old, oversized coat, and he carries a cardboard suitcase, which holds all his belongings. In a timid voice, the youth asks the first policeman he encounters for directions to Old Trafford stadium. The policeman looks at him condescendingly but still politely explains the way. This is how Bobby Charlton enters the world of football legends.
Time heals everything. Just three months after the plane crash, Bobby once again makes the journey from Ashington to Manchester. This time, it's for good. For two decades, he's an undisputed leader of Manchester United and the English national team, with whom he becomes a world champion in 1966. He plays brilliantly wit his head, literally but also figuratively, possessing an exceptional skill to organize his team's game. Another virtue of his is revealed when, in 1965, the Daily Mail newspaper organizes an anonymous survey among football referees with the single question: "Who is the most fair and honest English footballer?" In all responses, only one name is mentioned: Bobby Charlton. In nearly 1000 matches, he not only is never sent off the field but also nobody remembers him ever raising his voice even once. Just one look from him, and the uncompromising Nobby Stiles starts behaving like a pastor on a charitable mission. Bobby cannot stand the scandals of his teammate George Best and refuses to share a dressing room with the capricious, long-haired, and eccentric Northern Irishman. Bobby Charlton, the last great gentleman of British football, is too popular and respected worldwide. This is attested by a story recounted by his friend, journalist Frank Taylor. Once in Rome, Taylor buys a book and in a conversation with the shopkeeper mentions that he is from Manchester. "Oh, Bobby Charlton plays there," the shopkeeper exclaims. "In that case, you'll pay me half." Taylor cannot resist the temptation to mention that he personally knows the famous fellow townsman. The Italian shopkeeper smiles broadly, "Signore, allow me to have this tremendous pleasure of accepting the book as a modest gift from me."
Bobby Charlton's happiest day is May 29, 1968. At Wembley, in a dramatic match that lasted 120 minutes, Manchester United beats Benfica Lisbon 4:1. When captain Bobby Charlton receives the European Champions Cup, the entire stadium chants his name. Tears appear in the eyes of many. Not just from joy - the memories of Duncan Edwards, Tommy Taylor, and the others, are still alive. In the famous stadium's dressing room, Matt Busby smiles for the first time in ten years. "Now I can go. We've fulfilled our duty to those who perished in Munich!" In 1972, Bobby Charlton retires from football and becomes the coach of Preston. Things don't go well. In order to remain in the Second Division, the team must win at least one point in their last match against the leaders Middlesbrough, whose coach is his brother, Jackie Charlton. Everyone expects Jackie to make a small concession, especially since this point is meaningless for his Middlesbrough - the team has long since qualified for the First Division. Nothing of the sort! Middlesbrough wins 4:2, and Preston is relegated. After the match, Jackie Charlton calmly states, "This is the fairest way. As for Bobby, he has no coaching talent and should look for another job." After this match, Bobby Charlton tears up his coaching diploma and joins a travel agency.
A gentleman and truly one of the Gods of the game.
For club and country thank you Sir Bobby Charlton. RIP
For club and country thank you Sir Bobby Charlton. RIP
When you have diehard liverpool fans messaging you to say he was one of the greatest, it drives the point home he was a legend of the game.
He was Mr. United, and was a true ambassador for the club. RIP Bobby, never had the chance to see you live like most of us, but your legacy will live on for the new generations of United fans.
He was Mr. United, and was a true ambassador for the club. RIP Bobby, never had the chance to see you live like most of us, but your legacy will live on for the new generations of United fans.
Sir Bobby was way before my time, both in his playing days and well before I even knew of the sport at a professional level (being an American kid in the 80s into 90s), but I worked with a retired USAF guy, who went by Chuck (Charles), circa 2000-01. Chuck had been stationed in England and spent much time in Europe in the 60s, 70s, and 80s and got to see Sir Bobby play, said he was the best player in the world back then. Chuck said it was Sir Bobby and fellow Busby Babes that got him into the sport as a young American stationed overseas.
A fantastic man and a wonderful legacy in football. He will be sorely missed. RIP Bobby!
The personification of Manchester United.
R.I.P
R.I.P
Shed a tear over this last night. Was a part of the fabric of our great club and is missed. RIP
The greatest English and Manchester United player, and the gentleman of football. Left foot, right foot, the pace to run through teams.. incredible player, incredible human being, the embodiment of Manchester United. Rest in peace sir Bobby, you meant so much to so many people, you were a role model and a hero, and we will cherish your memories forever.
That was a beautiful read, thank you.As a kid, when I fell in love with football (started watching and playing), I came across this book, of which I've posted a few screenshots below. It's a book about the history of european football, focused on the Euro Cup with stories about famous players and club teams thrown in - from 40-50s to Euro '88. I'd read it countless times, almost religiously. The language is Bulgarian, because I am Bulgarian, and the book is from the Communist era. My favourite story of all was/is the one about Sir Bobby Charlton and Manchester United. Basically what made me fell in love with this club.
I thought it might be interesting for some to see what's been written "behind the iron curtain".
Translated it the best I can.
The book's called "The new Oranje Kingdom"
"To Death and Back" (or a tale about the gentleman Bobby and the "Reds" of Manchester)
MANCHESTER, 1878. A few railway workers from the local station, who play football in their spare time, decide to form a club: "Newton Heath". With their very modest budget they buy 11 red shirts and one leather ball. The pitch is a nearby meadow, filled with sharp stones on which the players often scrape their knees. The monthly meeting is lit by candle light. No, nothing mysterious - it's just that the newly formed club is so poor they can't afford to pay for electricity.
1908, Newton Heath - now Manchester United, wins the Division 1 title for the first time and the attendance averages 50 000.
MANCHESTER, 1945. Old Trafford stadium is completely demolished by nazi bombs. A new manager is appointed, someone called Matt Busby - a scotsman, son of a miner from Lankarkshire, orphaned from a very young age. Wage - 6 pounds a week. Quickly earning a reputation for being the best manager in the UK, Busby becomes the most famous scotsman in England. They call him "the creator of an incredible galaxy of talents". In 1956, "the Busby Babes" which average age is 20 years and 2 months, win the title. In the freshly formed European Champions Cup, in their first game they beat Anderlecht 10-0. They eliminate Borussia Dortmund and Athletic Bilbao only to be stopped by the mighty Real Madrid in the semi finals.
MUNICH, February the 6th, 1958, 16.10Hour. The mood in the twin engine airplane "Elizabethan" is great. Manchester United had just drawn 3 - 3 with Crvena Zvezda in Belgrade and the road to the semi-finals is open. The boys are joking about taking on Di Stefano and his team. Matt Busby and his old friend and journalist Frank Taylor open a bottle of champagne. The stewardess, miss Bellis, announces: "Ladies and Gentlemen, we wish you a pleasant flight. We'll serve tea shortly.
The plane slowly gains speed on the frozen runway. The pilot Kenneth Rayment suddenly shouts: "My God, we won't take off!"...
In a deafening crash, the plane hits a nearby building. A fire breaks out. The cries of the survivors trying to get out, crawling over the dead, are heard far away. After a horrific 54 seconds the "Busby Babes" are no more. Amongst the ones that lose their lives are the captain of the English national team Roger Byrne, national players Bill Whelan and Tommy Taylor. The winger David Pegg, reserve players Mark Jones and Geoff Bent. The whole world anxiously follows the critical condition of Duncan Edwards. The darling of the passionate fans, Edwards made his debut at Manchester United at the age of 16, and by the age of 18, he was already wearing the national team shirt. Experts speak with enthusiasm about his explosiveness and two-footed strikes and consider him the biggest talent in the UK. After a 14-day battle with death in a Munich hospital, the blond giant with joyful eyes loses his final and most important match.
Reserve goalkeeper Harry Gregg becomes a national hero. Severely wounded, he returns to the burning plane to help his dying comrades. The same year, Gregg is declared the best goalkeeper at the World Cup in Sweden, but shortly after, he is removed from the Northern Ireland national team for disciplinary reasons. The offense? Nothing significant. Harry Gregg simply refused to travel by plane to Madrid for a friendly match with Spain...
Journalist Frank Taylor is buried under the wreckage of the plane. His right leg is immobile, and breathing is severely compromised. Nine ribs are broken. His colleague, Daily Mail's photojournalist Peter Howard, pulls him out, and then decides to help him in the strangest way: he lights a cigarette and places it between his teeth. Taylor's last thought is, "Now I'm in for it with my wife. I've started smoking again..." He regains consciousness in the hospital, and the first thing he hears is, "Morphine! Morphine!" Words he remembers for a lifetime. After 21 surgeries and two years in a wheelchair, Frank Taylor picks up the pen again and becomes a world-renowned football commentator.
A young player is thrown together with his chair 60 meters from the crash site. His face is covered in blood. Plunged into deep shock, he silently watches the burning bodies in the snow for a long time. Then he starts crying. This young man's name is Robert Charlton. After the tragedy at Munich Airport, Bobby Charlton vows never to play football again and never to fly on an airplane. Having seen death up close, he returns to the small town of Ashington, where he was born on July 10, 1938.
The father, a quiet miner, is a complete opposite of the mother, a cheerful and vivacious woman. She proudly recounts countless stories of her father, Tanner Milburn, a former Leeds United goalkeeper, and her four brothers who played for Leeds and Leicester for many years. Miss Elizabeth Charlton lives with one dream - for her two sons, Jackie and Bobby, to become professional footballers. Every Saturday, she takes them to the stadium in Ashington, and on other days, she patiently teaches them the secrets of dribbling in their small family garden.
One day in Ashington, professional talent scout for Manchester United, Joe Armstrong, arrives to watch a match between school teams. "It was a cold, foggy morning," Armstrong recalls, "and I could hardly distinguish the two teams. Suddenly, in the fog, it was as if lightning struck: I saw the virtuoso play of 14-year-old Bobby Charlton." Back in Manchester, Joe Armstrong goes to the manager of the first team, Matt Busby. "Matt, I found a boy in Ashington that we need to get right away. He's a genius!" Not long after, a short, blond-haired youth arrives at the central station of the gray and smoky Manchester. He's dressed in an old, oversized coat, and he carries a cardboard suitcase, which holds all his belongings. In a timid voice, the youth asks the first policeman he encounters for directions to Old Trafford stadium. The policeman looks at him condescendingly but still politely explains the way. This is how Bobby Charlton enters the world of football legends.
Time heals everything. Just three months after the plane crash, Bobby once again makes the journey from Ashington to Manchester. This time, it's for good. For two decades, he's an undisputed leader of Manchester United and the English national team, with whom he becomes a world champion in 1966. He plays brilliantly wit his head, literally but also figuratively, possessing an exceptional skill to organize his team's game. Another virtue of his is revealed when, in 1965, the Daily Mail newspaper organizes an anonymous survey among football referees with the single question: "Who is the most fair and honest English footballer?" In all responses, only one name is mentioned: Bobby Charlton. In nearly 1000 matches, he not only is never sent off the field but also nobody remembers him ever raising his voice even once. Just one look from him, and the uncompromising Nobby Stiles starts behaving like a pastor on a charitable mission. Bobby cannot stand the scandals of his teammate George Best and refuses to share a dressing room with the capricious, long-haired, and eccentric Northern Irishman. Bobby Charlton, the last great gentleman of British football, is too popular and respected worldwide. This is attested by a story recounted by his friend, journalist Frank Taylor. Once in Rome, Taylor buys a book and in a conversation with the shopkeeper mentions that he is from Manchester. "Oh, Bobby Charlton plays there," the shopkeeper exclaims. "In that case, you'll pay me half." Taylor cannot resist the temptation to mention that he personally knows the famous fellow townsman. The Italian shopkeeper smiles broadly, "Signore, allow me to have this tremendous pleasure of accepting the book as a modest gift from me."
Bobby Charlton's happiest day is May 29, 1968. At Wembley, in a dramatic match that lasted 120 minutes, Manchester United beats Benfica Lisbon 4:1. When captain Bobby Charlton receives the European Champions Cup, the entire stadium chants his name. Tears appear in the eyes of many. Not just from joy - the memories of Duncan Edwards, Tommy Taylor, and the others, are still alive. In the famous stadium's dressing room, Matt Busby smiles for the first time in ten years. "Now I can go. We've fulfilled our duty to those who perished in Munich!" In 1972, Bobby Charlton retires from football and becomes the coach of Preston. Things don't go well. In order to remain in the Second Division, the team must win at least one point in their last match against the leaders Middlesbrough, whose coach is his brother, Jackie Charlton. Everyone expects Jackie to make a small concession, especially since this point is meaningless for his Middlesbrough - the team has long since qualified for the First Division. Nothing of the sort! Middlesbrough wins 4:2, and Preston is relegated. After the match, Jackie Charlton calmly states, "This is the fairest way. As for Bobby, he has no coaching talent and should look for another job." After this match, Bobby Charlton tears up his coaching diploma and joins a travel agency.
I’ve been thinking non stop about this since it was announced.
On one hand I’ve felt incredibly saddened by the news but on the other really proud and privileged to support this great historic club.
Its often easy to get caught amongst the nonsense posted online about United, especially in the football forum, but looking back at Sir Bobby’s life and career it really gives you that reminder as to why Manchester United Football Club is one of the greatest and most important football clubs in the world.
It doesn’t matter about the Glazers or whoever else is at the helm. That will never change.
On one hand I’ve felt incredibly saddened by the news but on the other really proud and privileged to support this great historic club.
Its often easy to get caught amongst the nonsense posted online about United, especially in the football forum, but looking back at Sir Bobby’s life and career it really gives you that reminder as to why Manchester United Football Club is one of the greatest and most important football clubs in the world.
It doesn’t matter about the Glazers or whoever else is at the helm. That will never change.
What a privilege to have him associated with the club for so long and tied to the biggest moments in our history.
I think what has always struck me about stories about Bobby Charlton, was how everyone puts his character as the best thing about him. This is a balon d'or winner, who could do it all, with either foot. Revered by some of the all time greats of the game, yet everyone always comes back to his human side.
Thoughts are with his loved ones at this time. Rest in peace.
I think what has always struck me about stories about Bobby Charlton, was how everyone puts his character as the best thing about him. This is a balon d'or winner, who could do it all, with either foot. Revered by some of the all time greats of the game, yet everyone always comes back to his human side.
Thoughts are with his loved ones at this time. Rest in peace.