97 PAUL GASCOIGNE

Gazza was a hip-wiggling, goal-seeking, relentless ball of positivity, and thanks to Euro 96, FFT didn’t miss out on all the fun. By Hunter Davies

Paul Gascoigne was so good, so exceptional, so eager, so dominant, so admired by all – looked up to by all – that very often he could be a liability.

Not by making a mistake, mucking things up or just mucking around, which often he did and as even the very best players do, but by the force of his personality.

He would demand the ball, attract it like a magnet from his team-mates, even when they were in better positions. So they would pass the ball back or sideways to him when he was in a stupid or unpromising position and, heavily marked, he would lose it.

Watching him at Spurs, I used to shout and scream at them not to pass back to Gazza, when they were all flooding forward, getting into really good positions. He would get the ball, do his shuffle, wiggle his hips, use his bum, shrug off some pesky opponents, but too late. They had seen it coming, knowing Gazza’s influence on his team, and would immediately swarm all over him.

Looking back, that is about the only defect I ever saw in Gazza’s brilliance. In a way, it was not a defect as such – not a lack of skill – but a symptom of too much being expected of him, and of himself.

On the plus side... well, let me count the ways. Despite being slightly overweight, having a large posterior and not being the fastest, he had such dainty feet, able to prance and dance, take on several players at a time and somehow find a way through, making them appear pretty foolish. His passing was excellent, his shooting exact, his vision extraordinary.

But I think his second-biggest attribute, after his dribbling, was his confidence. He was so positive, determined to move the team forward, and always looking for an opening, even when openings were there none.

This is really the reason Spurs would pass to him. They knew Gazza would take them on. Gazza would find a way. I don’t think I ever saw him with his head down, hiding or taking the safe option. He was always up for it, even when being clattered or having just done something which clearly did not work.

He was a useless tackler, of course. Worse than useless, in that so many of his injuries were self-inflicted, the result of a mad lunge – as in the 1991 FA Cup Final against Nottingham Forest, when he scythed down the young full-back Gary Charles. “I collapsed in a heap, like a rag doll,” Gazza told me.

It was doubly potty because he already knew it was going to be his last game for Spurs, having decided to join Lazio. There was no need to endanger himself.

But when people think that his career was truncated by drink and mental problems, and assume he did not fulfill his potential, they forget that he received 57 England caps and that he was still playing in the top division with Everton at the age of 35. His career was not like George Best’s. Now, he did waste his talents.

And, oh, the fun and entertainment Gazza gave us. Not just the vulgar fun, like wearing those massive plastic breasts on arrival back from Italy after England’s World Cup heroics in 1990, or tearful fun when we all saw him crying, but genuinely witty, amusing fun.

Playing for Rangers against Hibs, the referee dropped his card. Gazza immediately picked it up. Instead of handing it back, he held it up, pretending to book the official. How we roared. The ref then booked Gazza. And how we roared – in sympathy for Gazza.

“I NEVER SAW HIM WITH HIS HEAD DOWN, HIDING, TAKING THE SAFE OPTION”