GORDON BANKS
Bob the Cat’s tribute
IT’S almost 40 years since I met my goalkeeping hero. I had been plucked from the obscurity of old boys’ football club dinners to speak at the 1980 Football Writers’ Footballer of the Year Dinner at London’s Café Royal at fairly short notice.
Despite being a football anorak, I had little idea of what to expect that evening and when I nervously walked into the VIP reception I was faced with a kaleidoscope of famous football faces.
In those days all the previous winners sat on a long top table in year order. It started with Sir Stanley Matthews and went down the line with Joe Mercer, Tom Finney, Billy Wright, Bobby Moore, the Charltons, Danny Blanchflower, who was the other speaker, Pat Jennings, many more and, of course, Gordon Banks.
When I spoke I pointed to the top table and said, “Look at that lot. Looks like someone has upset a box of cigarette cards.” Lawrie McMenemy said it was my best line of the night but that was what it looked like.
That night my first two lines didn’t hit the bullseye but after that, forgive the lack of modesty, I stormed it and it would change my life for ever.
At the end, the organiser, a nice man called Dennis Signy, pumped my hand until my arm hurt. I guess it had been a risk putting this unknown bloke on at such a
prestigious event and I’m sure the committee must have been greatly relieved. He said: “Next year you will come as our guest, sit on the top table (normally reserved for past Footballers of the Year and the chairmen of the Cup finalists) and you will sit next to Gordon Banks.”
True to his word I did, and we had plenty to talk about despite my being at the other end of the goalkeeping quality league in the Old Wilsonians’ 7th XI. For a start, I was born with an eye that didn’t work and for some years after we would compare notes. He had lost his in a road accident.
A few years later I was booked to appear at the Midlands Footballer of the Year by Billy Wright when he was head of sport for Central TV. In an idea that sadly didn’t work, they tried to create the atmosphere of a black tie dinner in a TV studio. What made life really difficult is that every time they wanted to film, the floor manager called for quiet and the guests seemed reluctant to laugh.
It was memorable for me not just because once again they had sat me next to Banksy but it was the first time I met Brian Clough and my alltime football hero Jimmy Greaves.
For the evening, knowing who I was going to be next to, I wrote a joke about his legendary save from Pele. I said: “I don’t know what all the fuss is about. I think I’d have held it. I thought it was going wide anyway.”
Since then everyone has stolen it, including Banksy. Not that I minded him doing so. But some speakers now claim it was said on the pitch at the time by Bobby Moore or Alan Mullery.
I can assure you it wasn’t. You don’t have time for jokes if you’re playing Brazil. So we met from time to time at dinners and he even came and played in a charity game at Crystal Palace for me with nine of the other eleven. He had had a new hip then so he played for 30 minutes on the field. Only Alan Ball and Nobby Stiles were missing as they were abroad. Squad members Ian Callaghan and Jimmy Greaves replaced them and Ron Springett played in goal.
Then a promoter called Mike Newlin came up with the idea of the Great Goalkeepers’ Show with Pat Jennings, Banksy and me.
We worked out a format where I would do 15 minutes of football and goalkeeping humour at the start then interview Pat and follow that with Gordon. At the end, we had questions which was not the normal cop-out of Q&A sessions by people who are not up to speaking on their own.
This was often the best part because I would insist on answering as well as them and it was a lot of fun.
Of course, the Pele save had to be included but there was a problem. At the start we realised that Gordon had a freeze-frame memory of the build-up to the save and it was too long.
I didn’t want to offend him so, in collusion with Pat, we agreed a good way of shortening it.
I would not mention it in the interview but we knew it would, inevitably, be included in the audience’s questions. When it was I would say: “We’re fed up hearing about that as I don’t rate it. I think I’d have held it,” and then the follow up, “Pat thought it was going wide anyway.”
After a few more questions we would give in and let him talk about it and Pat and I would sit there yawning and looking at our watches. Banksy had got the message and managed to find a shorter version.
I was on a round-theworld cruise when he died but was called in Sorrento by his son, Bob, who kindly invited me to the funeral. I would have been there had the train in front not hit a tree. I can’t tell you how sad I was not to be there to say goodbye.
I was left to watch the TV pictures which gave him the hero’s farewell this lovely bloke so deserved.
Each one of the Boys of ’66 are, or were, great guys and it’s sad the FA have never looked after our heroes better.
This was brought home to me once when Banksy and I had done a lunch in Manchester. He had had a few business problems along the way and this was during one of those times.
He also had some sort of infection in the socket of the lost eye and had a big white patch on it.
We sat waiting for our trains with a cup of tea. He wasn’t feeling great and had what looked like a rather old coat on. Looking as he did, nobody recognised him and a wave of sadness swept over me as I realised that this was probably the greatest goalkeeper ever and that he shouldn’t be sitting here with me. He should be somewhere on a pedestal.
Not that he ever would have been comfortable on a pedestal. He was too humble a person.
He soon resolved his business problems and was able to move on with a happy life so poignantly described by one of his daughters and he will always be a bright star to those of us who were around in 1966 and who were lucky enough to know him.
Stoke City, his family, friends and admirers did him so proud at the end. Nobody deserved it more.