Twilight of a star
Stan Bowles was a hellraiser, womaniser and maverick from football’s glory days.. but now he barely recalls his glittering playing career
Watching Stan Bowles step on to the pitch for the last time today will conjure magical memories for his fans. But Stan’s own memories of his glory days have long since faded.
In his 1970s heyday he was one of the finest footballers in the country. Now Stan can scarcely remember his own name, let alone his five England caps.
Four years ago Stan was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, aged just 64. His decline has been cruel. He no longer signs autographs and struggles to speak.
Stan is the victim of an epidemic sweeping football. At least 375 ex-players are diagnosed with dementia, including 1966 World Cup winners Nobby Stiles, Martin Peters and Ray Wilson. It has prompted calls for more research into damage caused by heading footballs.
Stan, 68, is now dependent on his eldest daughter Andria as his full-time carer. One day she will no longer be able to cope, especially as she also cares for her six year-old granddaughter Macie.
That is why Stan’s fans spent a year campaigning for his former club, Queens Park Rangers, to hold a benefit match for their hero. Today’s friendly against Bournemouth at Loftus Road is their chance to say goodbye to Stan and it will raise vital funds to pay for his future care.
Andria, 49, admits: “It will be emotional. Dad enjoys going back, he always seems at home there. You can see him waving his arms in the air, smiling. Maybe it brings back some memories, but he cannot tell us now.
“But this will be the last time, the journey is too much for him and he can’t cope with that many people.”
This month Andria saw another piece of her dad disappear. A lifelong smoker, he suddenly lost all memory of cigarettes four weeks ago. His daughter says: “He was obsessed with smoking. He would smoke one after another because he forgot he had just finished one. He doesn’t even ask for a cigarette now, let alone know what to do with one.”
Stan’s daily trips to the bookies have gone, too. Instead he has a “compulsive” interest in hats. He has not left home without one for nearly two years. Today he is sporting a summery straw fedora.
His blue eyes have lost their sparkle and are now are cloudy and confused.
Yet traces of the old Stan still surface. He welcomes us with a grin and firm handshake, the instinctive response of
a star who has spent decades greeting fans. He comes alive for the camera. “Stan, that’s short for Stanley isn’t it?” asks the photographer. “Yeah. Stanley. Stanley Bowles,” Stan replies in a sing-song voice.
Andria’s jaw drops. “I didn’t realise he could do that any more. He hasn’t used his name for such a long time. He doesn’t know mine either. The only name he says is Macie. He adores her.”
Stan is having a “good day”, but his blank expression returns once the camera is packed away and he begins pacing restlessly. He is ready for his walk.
Stan lives in Moston, the same redbrick suburb of Manchester where he was born and raised. Younger brother Mark lives round the corner. His local is the same pub where his mum drank
and where Andria was landlady before she quit to care for Macie and Stan. He still pops in for a shandy, with the staff pouring his usual, even though he can no longer order it.
Andria checks the tracker on a chain around Stan’s neck before waving him off. Last month he disappeared without it, wandering out in his dressing gown. “It was panic,” says Andria, recalling how she searched local shops before a district nurse found Stan and returned him safely.
Andria has put her life on hold to care for Stan. She never leaves the house for more than a few minutes as her dad struggles in unfamiliar places and grows scared without her. He moved in with Andria five years ago.
It was not the first time. He was a notorious womaniser who frittered away his footballer’s salary partying with pal George Best. Whenever Stan’s latest mistress kicked him out, he arrived at Andria’s door. But this time it was different. “He started jumbling his words up,” she Andria. “He wanted a cup of tea, but he asked for the paper. When he made himself a drink he put the sugar in the fridge.”
Andria persuaded Stan to see a doctor, who diagnosed him with Alzheimer’s in both sides of his brain.
He was home to stay. Yet despite all the difficulties, it has brought the family closer together. Andria says: “Years ago we didn’t really see him, even when he visited. He was always out, he didn’t want to know us. He’s a nicer person now, more loving. He’s happy when he’s with his family.
“He can’t talk any more, but we still have little moments, like when I’m shaving him and he’s making funny faces. I call him Steptoe and he bursts out laughing. He feels safe with me.
“He cries a lot. He comes and says ‘thank you’, or tries to, and I hug him.”
Outside his family, only two things prompt a flicker of recognition. The first is music. Stan still loves blasting out tunes from his youth – Beatles, Kinks and Thin Lizzy. “He gets excited when he hears The Boys Are Back In Town,” says Andria. “He knows it’s Phil Lynott – they were good friends.”
The other is football. He watches matches in his room and Andria even found him in the garden kicking Macie’s pink football against the wall.
That is why the fans’ campaign to give Stan a badly-needed benefit match means so much to the family.
In a sport where £1million is small change, authorities have been slow to support legends such as Stan struggling with dementia. It is hard-up fans who have rallied round to ensure their heroes, who retired before the days of millionaire footballers, get help.
Andria will be joined at the game by sister Tracy, 47, brother Carl, 44, and Stan’s grandchildren. She says: “It means everything that fans are doing this. There is nothing we can do or say to show them how grateful we are.
“We can’t believe there is still so much love for him. He always made time for his fans.
“I spend so much time worrying about what will happen to dad.
“Knowing the money is there to help pay for his care means one less thing to worry about.”
As we finish, Stan lingers in the doorway, unsure what to do. Andria smiles: “He hovers there like a ghost.”
A ghost of the man he once was, but still a legend. Football must help players like Stan in their hour of need.
Dad enjoys going back, you see him waving his arms in the air, smiling DAUGHTER ANDRIA ON STAN’S QPR RETURN