Sir Bobby Robson
Once upon a time there was an English football manager who won things that mattered.
He adored the game, respected its heritage and never lost an infectious enthusiasm for the potential of 22 fellas running around after a round leather ball.
He didn’t abuse the reporters who (at times) abused him; he didn’t refuse to speak for years on end to the broadcasters who helped pay his wages; he took evident pleasure from developing stars rather than buying them in. He conducted himself with humility and humanity. His teams played pretty damn good football. And you got the feeling he’d have done it even if it didn’t pay him a penny.
How sad that he passed away having had to witness the crumbling of his beloved Newcastle United, whose current, humiliating predicament can be traced directly to his sacking in five years ago.
The English game, whose soul visibly diminishes with every passing month, today lost more than perhaps its last great manager.
Rest in peace, Sir Bobby. And thank you.
Sir Bobby Robson CBE, 1933-2009
