PELE, BEST, ELTON & ME
RODNEY MARRSSHH ON HIS EXTRAORDINARY LIFE IN FOOTBALL
IN January 1976, Rodney Marsh stepped off a private jet here in Tampa and thought to himself: ‘This is the life for me’. Today, at 75, his perspective is untouched. The sun is shining, bouncing off the bay’s crystal waters, and the city is alive. To twist the final word of a famous anecdote involving his great friend George Best: ‘Where did it all go right?’.
There is, then, something of an irony in Marsh’s day job — as co-host of a radio show called
The Grumpy Pundits. ‘Do I look grumpy?’ he asks. The once long blond hair is short and grey, but that mischievous grin remains. He looks just fine to me.
We meet for lunch at the plush Brio Tuscan Grille, less than a mile from the same airport where he first touched down before joining Tampa Bay Rowdies and the glitz and glamour of the North American Soccer League.
‘I had fallen out with Manchester City and was in the States to sign for Los Angeles Aztecs, who Elton John was going to buy. He wanted me and George Best in the same team and flew me over on a private plane. I watched him in concert at the Dodger Stadium but then got a call asking if I’d speak to Tampa.
‘When I arrived, there were hundreds of fans, although I think it was rent-a-crowd to be honest. It was all to “wow” me — and it did! The NBC guy then asked: “We’ve heard you’re the white Pele?”. I said: “No, he’s the black Rodney Marsh!”’
The former England, Fulham, QPR and City maverick adds: ‘That caused a bit of a furore. Some said it had racial undertones. Nothing of the sort. I’d grown up in East London, black or white was all the same to me. Thankfully, most took it in the cheeky nature intended and it made headlines — not that Pele was impressed.’
Nor was he too enamoured when, during Tampa’s 5-1 win over New York Cosmos, Marsh showboated at the Brazilian’s expense. ‘There’s a great photograph of me kneeling in front of the ball saying to him: “Come and get it”.’
How did Pele take that? ‘Not well. He came running over, ruffled my hair and dug his thumb right in my ear.’
Marsh lives in Florida with his wife of 53 years, Jean. They have American citizenship, as do his three grandchildren.
He is very much the celebrity over here, but what would he most like to be remembered for?
After a lengthy debate, we settle on this — as a footballer who entertained.
‘A lot of people said to me I thought I was the star and the other 21 were extras,’ he says. ‘That sounds arrogant but it was true. I did think that. I was wrong, I know that now, but that’s the way I played. Every time someone says to me: “I fell in love with football because of you”, I think: “That’ll do”.’
Marsh made his breakthrough at Fulham at the age of 18 but soon headed for third-tier QPR, scoring a wonderful solo goal in the 1967 League Cup final as they beat top-flight West Brom 3-1.
That trophy would prove the only major honour of his career. Not that Marsh would have thought so when he joined Man City for a club record £200,000 in March, 1972, with Malcolm Allison’s side four points clear at the top of Division One.
History has it that Marsh cost them the title. ‘It’s true,’ he says, refuting the suggestion that City’s players used him as a scapegoat. ‘If they hadn’t signed me they would have won the league. I upset the balance of the team.
‘I know half of them piled into me when I left — Mike Doyle, Joe Corrigan, Dennis Tueart. It was a different one in the News of the
World every week! But it doesn’t bother me, it’s almost 50 years ago. Saying that, I went to a dinner in Manchester recently and the first question was: “Did you cost Man City the league?”. I think fans are split on it, half still love me.’
The Gallagher brothers of Oasis fame were clearly fans, with Marsh and Best both appearing on the
Definitely Maybe album cover. ‘I eventually met Liam on a talk show. By this point I’ve realised the album is one of the greatest selling of all time. I asked him: “When am I getting my f ****** royalties?” He laughed. I still haven’t had a penny!’
Marsh needed his ready wit during a Twitter row with Joey Barton, who called him a ‘washed-up former player full of hatred’ who ‘peaked over 40 years ago in Division Two’.
Bang on cue, Marsh duly posted a picture of himself as City captain, shaking hands with Johan Cruyff during a game with Barcelona in the Nou Camp.
‘He was trying to say I’d achieved nothing. I thought: “Hold on a minute”. So I sent him that picture and asked: “At your age I was captaining City against Barcelona and playing for England. You?”.’
Marsh may have used his nine England caps as a source of pride on that occasion, but our discussion reveals only regret and frustration.
‘Alf Ramsey only played me because of public pressure. He once said to me: “You have all the talent in the world, but it means nothing without hard work. I want you to play like Geoff Hurst”. Geoff played the exact opposite to me, hold-up play, flick-ons. I got the ball and beat people.
‘I thought: “That’s the end of my England career,” and it was. Playing for England under Alf was a waste of time. Under a different manager, I would have had 100 caps.’
We leave talk of Marsh’s friendship with Best until retiring for coffee, in part because his own battle with alcohol needs exploring, too.
The pair became pals across the Manchester divide, were opponents and buddies in America and then team-mates during a final fling at Fulham.
As the years passed, they would discuss legacy, invariably over a drink.
‘He’d always say to me: “Forget all the Miss Worlds and all that b ****** s, I just want to be remembered as the greatest player who ever lived”.’ On November 25, 2005, Best died aged 59 as a result of organ failure caused by alcoholism. Marsh had visited him in hospital that morning.
‘I woke up and had a feeling I needed to see him. He was in a coma. I just held his hand and whispered in his ear: “You were the greatest player who ever lived”.’
I need to ask — why was it Best on his death bed and not him?
‘You never really beat it, you know, it’s always there,’ he says. ‘You don’t choose to be an alcoholic. It’s a disease. But after September 4, 1979, I never went over the edge again. It was my daughter’s tenth birthday. I had a bad back and went to see a specialist. He asked me what I drank. A lot.
‘He told me: “Your liver is oneand-a-half times the size it should be. If you don’t stop, you’ll die”.
‘I went home that day and chucked the lot in the trash. For one year I didn’t touch it. I lost that desire. Now, and ever since that day, I’m in total control.’