Jack will always have a place in our hearts
HAVING RECENTLY written a series of articles to mark the thirtieth anniversary of Ireland’s heroics at the 1990 World Cup, little did I think that I’d be revisiting that very subject so soon, to pay tribute to the man behind the success – the late, great Jack Charlton.
All those glorious memories of Euro 88, Italia 90 and USA 94 came flooding back again, an unforgettable period for Irish soccer brought about by the unlikely marriage of an English World Cup winner and a Republic of Ireland football team that had been long-since blighted by near misses when tournament football looked like it could be within reach.
The bould Jack was there on the sideline for some of Ireland’s greatest sporting days – Ray Houghton hitting the back of the English net in Stuttgart, Bonner saving from Timofte in Genoa before David O’Leary’s penalty sent us to a World Cup quarter-final, Houghton again versus Italy in 1994 – precious moments in time that will be forever engraved in Irish minds.
With numerous humorous and heartfelt stories about Big Jack doing the rounds in recent days, from falling asleep in the Vatican to his rather modest description of his own playing abilities, the one thing that shines through more than anything else is the genuine affection his players had for him.
Paul McGrath, who was a mainstay in Charlton’s sides during the glory years, paid an emotional tribute to the man that placed such faith in him, describing him as a father figure, while John Aldridge’s voice quivered with emotion as he professed his real love for somebody that touched all of our lives in one way or another.
When Aldridge said that he felt like he had lost a member of his family, anybody that lived through those years would have nodded their heads in agreement.
Jack was one of us, a beloved father, grandad, a friend.
With his familiar peaked cap and down-to-earth personality, he was somebody we could all relate to. And there’s no doubt that connection was reciprocal, for it was abundantly clear that Jack had a bond with the Irish people that ran as deep as the River Moy, where he liked to while away the hours doing a spot of salmon and trout fishing.
Jack may have come across as being a bit gruff and rough around the edges at times, but who isn’t, and that bluntness was part of his northern charm – a man that wouldn’t suffer fools gladly but could instantly light up any room with his mischievous grin.
He’d probably blush at the outpouring of grief and pages upon pages that have been written about him since he passed away, at the age of 85, because there was no airs and graces or frills about him .
He lived life in the way he liked football to be played, describing it as a simple game that should be played with simple tactics.
He may have had a few detractors for his style of football, but he devised a plan that worked, and the esteem in which he was held on both sides of the Irish Sea speaks volumes for the love that was out there for the Leeds United legend that made putting ’em under pressure this nation’s mantra.
Making people smile is one of the greatest presents we can bestow on others and, if that’s the case, Jack in his own understated way was the gift that kept on giving as he brought real happiness to millions, from all walks of life.
I’d be confident that I’m speaking for most of the population when I say that the Irish public will be forever grateful for those halcyon days that saw the Boys in Green proudly line out at three major tournaments in the space of six years, with Jack steering the ship in his own inimitable manner.
Those of us who experienced those joyous years in the late eighties and early nineties will always be part of Jackie’s Army and we’ll march on together forever with the beloved adopted Geordie that we all took to our hearts.
He truly was one of a kind. A champion of the people and a champion of the world.
Rest easy Big Jack.