Jose’s stunning United pay-off
BACK when we hadn’t heard of them, the players who we would one day label the Class of 92 used to do gym work as part of their training at Manchester United.
David Beckham, Ryan Giggs, Gary Neville and the rest were fit young athletes but they weren’t as fit as their coach.
‘Eric would come in and go on the bench- press machine,’ recalled Ryan Giggs. ‘He would not just lift the bar but the whole machine. He wanted to show us how tough he was. Back then, being at United was like being in the Army. Eric was the sergeant major.’
These recollections are important because they speak to the other side of the great United youth coach who passed away on Wednesday evening aged 81.
Eric Harrison would always pick up the phone to people wishing to talk about United and he was an enduringly gentle and considerate man. Like many great coaches of young players, he never stopped caring for the lads he knew, no matter how old they were. ‘If you see them, tell them I said hello,’ he would say.
But as a coach in his pomp, Harrison was cut from old school cloth. Born in West Yorkshire, he was never properly coached until he signed for Halifax.
He was, like many of his generation, self-taught, his skills honed on the street, in the back yard and, when the weather was bad, inside the house itself, passing a ball off the wall at the foot of the stairs.
So, it is not hard to imagine his disdain for any young player arriving at United with anything resembling a delusional air.
‘I detest any footballer who does not give 100 per cent,’ he once said.
‘Professional footballers should get down on their knees and thank God they are so lucky.’
Harrison was brought to United by Ron Atkinson in the early 1980s and was described we needed to do to play for Manchester United Football Club. Eric, we owe you everything.’
In the thick of their development, though, Harrison was very much the unforgiving face of life at England’s biggest club.
On the first day of pre-season, he told them they wouldn’t need boots for three weeks.
On another day, with snow thick on the ground, the boys expected gym work but were astonished when Harrison produced a rugby ball.
He loved them all, though, especially those happy to buy in to his creed of sacrifice, humility and graft.
Harrison had many proud days but few prouder than the night in the Nou Camp in 1999 when a team packed full of his graduates beat Bayern Munich to win the Champions League.
‘I had been privileged to be at the helm as they turned from boys into true men, achievers,’ he reflected years later.
‘They sought me out to share their joy. I thought to myself, “What a lucky man”.’