Bobby leads tributes to Sir Tom at 90
YOUNG BOBBY, still a comparative slip of a lad at just 74, popped in the other day to see dear old Tom, who celebrates his 90th birthday this morning.
The most revered England footballer of all time and the greatest English player, ever, go back a bit.
It is 54 years next month since Bobby Charlton scored the first of his still- record 49 goals for his country, with a little help from Tom Finney.
Knights of the realm now, Sir Bobby and Sir Tom mused for a while on those glorious days gone by.
Finney’s memory needs a nudge these days when visitors come calling at his care home — whose wouldn’t at this grand age? — but Charlton coaxed him back to that Saturday afternoon at Hampden Park in 1958 when they beat Scotland 4-0.
‘It was my England debut,’ says Charlton. ‘Tom set me up for the first with a perfect cross. I didn’t have to move, just knock it in the net.’
As it happened, that goal was a thunderous left-footer which was to become Charlton’s trademark. But he says: ‘I was asked afterwards how it felt to score my first goal for England. I said that what made it special was that it was laid on by the great Tom Finney.’
Great, indeed. Finney knew a thing or two about debuts, too. He scored on all his, including every time he wore a different number shirt.
The Preston plumber was a master of all trades. A natural-born right winger with mystifying ball control and murderous change of pace, he switched to outside left so that his mate, Stanley Matthews, could get into the England team.
Finney also played at inside forward for club and country, and when they asked him to try out centre forward he scored even more frequently.
His recollections can be a mite hazy now but Sir Tom is a living reminder to the statistics-mad modern game that numbers never tell the whole story. He has but one medal to show for his genius, that for leading Preston North End to promotion from the old second division. But he does possess three treasures beyond price: 1) The undying affection of the country he served on the football pitch and as a tank driver on the battlefields of the Second World War. 2) The enduring esteem, respect and admiration of all who played with or against him, or were lucky enough to see him play. 3) His entire home city as a permanent memorial to the gentleman footballer who put Preston on the world map.
Three years ago, he and I retraced the short walk he used to take from the tiny house in which he was born to the Deepdale stadium where he worked his miracles. He used to carry his boots in a brown paper bag. This time he took history in his stride.
As we strolled through terraced streets haunted by sepia reflections of the industrial revolution during which they were built, men and boys of all ages from modern Britain’s multi-racial diversity came running for his autograph.
More than half a century ago young Tom used to sit unnoticed on the bus from the Pilkington plumbing works, where he was an apprentice, to the Preston training ground.
He continued plying the more humble of his trades — actually earning more than his £12 a week as a footballer — even after the Saturday morning he asked to leave early because he was playing in the FA Cup final ‘and Mr Pilkington asked me how long I would be out’.
Fame has not altered the modest Lancashire lad who never swears, never drank so much as a shandy before his playing career ended and who blushes to this milestone day whenever anyone mentions how brilliant he was.
Those cheeks will redden a little again today as Preston officials bring him a cake and card and tell him about their plans to salute him at Saturday’s home game. He will also listen to a disc-full of messages from the dignitaries of the game. FIFA president Sepp Blatter has recorded this: ‘True football greats would be capable of playing in any era. You belong to that group.’
And dear old Tom (left) will hear young Bobby tell him yet again: ‘I never dreamed I would play in the same side as Tom Finney. You were magic.’
That he was, and we must never stop telling him. Happy birthday, Sir Tom Finney, England’s finest.
j.powell@dailymail.co.uk