Running Rangers - A Licence To Squander Cash

IT IS SAID: “Madness is doing the same thing over and over again, in the hope of a different outcome;” or something like that. Whatever, last week's news of a £20million-plus loss for Rangers – well, was anyone surprised?

OK, the effects of the Covid pandemic is a big factor in that loss, but, Rangers have been wedded to Viv Nicholson economics since 1986 – if not before. The Lawrence Family, who had effectively ran the club for two decades, they bailed-out because they could no longer afford to run the club. Sir David Murray came and went, spending other people's millions along the way, then it all went tits-up – and there's a great book to be written by the independent-minded investigative journalist who can plough through all the myths, lies, disinformation and rumour of the past decade or so and discover the truth. Good luck to him or her.

Since Murray accepted Craig Whyte's £1 coin, a procession of hooks, crooks and comic singers have come and gone from the hallowed marble halls of Ibrox, notably perhaps Dave King, the man who took spending OPM (that's Other People's Money) to a whole new level. The old club was liquidated, only to be replaced by a new entity, with the same DNA and modus operandi.

And what have we learned from the whole debacle? I would suggest, that The Murphyia are better at running a football club than The Scotia Nostra.

Back in the 1960s, while Willie Waddell, having left Kilmarnock for the then near-omnipotent Scottish Daily Express was running his character assassination campaign on The Boy David, as he insisted on calling then Rangers manager David White, I was told by an Ibrox insider that Waddell would soon be installed as boss.

A friend's father, a local bank manager and Kilmarnock season ticket holder poo-pooed the suggestion, then had a think. He said: Mr Waddell told me personally, when he left our club, his next job would be outside football management. Mind you Rangers has very-little to do with football.”

Plus ca change, etc.

STILL ON Rangers, the best fiction writers in Scotland – the Chief football Writers of our 'Red Tops,' have been positively wetting themselves both before and after Steven Gerrard got the Aston Villa gig. I suppose, being an England legend, who has actually won something – albeit a “Diddy League” like the SPL Gerrard was on Villa's radar. He has now gone to Birmingham, good luck to him. But, Villa, I'm not so sure.

OK, the job will be well-paid; he knows the league, he knows Villa's Chief Executive from their time together at Liverpool. But, does Villa have the budget to compete at the top end of the over-heated EPL? I think not. Also, given the way things seem to operate down there, lose three games and you're out, Gerrard might in time have cause to reflect on the more-peaceful life, even allowing for the pressure to win, he enjoyed at Ibrox.

You never know in football, however. He has taken the job, he will give it a go, and if he turns Villa into contenders for the English title, he will be well-placed to succeed Jurgen Klopp in the job SG really wants – fail, and he gets a nice big pay-off towards financial security. Deciding to leave Glasgow was probably a no-brainer.

The big plus for the “red top rotweillers” is, they can now speculate to their heart's desire as to who gets the Ibrox gig. Be prepared for some of the usual extreme left-field nonsense.

BACK IN the black and white days of long-sleeved, buttoned shirts, knee-length shorts, ankle-high brown leather Manfield Hotspur boots and light tan, Tomlinson T lether balls, thanks to judicious decisions to largely ignore Johnny Foreigner in favour of the Home Internationals – barring the end-of-season continental tour, which was more a jolly for the blazers than serious football – the SFA could convince Terracing Tam and Standite Stuart that Scottish fitba mattered.

Then they decided to rejoin FIFA and immediately fell flat on their faces, by refusing a wild card entry to the 1950 World Cup, before making an absolute dog's breakfast of the 1954 finals and being slaughtered 7-0 by Uruguay.

Hibs won back a wee bit of prestige by reaching the semi-finals of the first European Cup, but, since then, Lisbon Lions, Barcelona Bears and Gothenburg Giants apart, it's been a long, slow descent to the depths.

Scottish football hasn't worked for years. Internationally, in the 20^th century, we reached 69% of the World Cup finals for which we tried to qualify; we reached 25% of the European Championship finals for which we attempted to qualify – giving us an overall qualification record of 52% - 11 finals appearances from 21 campaigns.

In the 21^st century, we have tried and failed to qualify for four World Cups and qualified once from six attempts at the European Championships – giving us an overall 9% qualification success rate from 11 tournaments entered.

That's just to QUALIFY. Once we get there and the real games begin, we fall away badly. We have played in 11 finals tournaments, playing in all 32 games, of which we have won precisely six, that's 18.75% over 67 years. Yet, over all these years of not winning, the SFA has somehow managed to keep the Tartan Army on-board and believing that better days are just around the corner.

Mind you, our international record is stellar when compared to that of our clubs in the various European club competitions – just three trophy wins from over 200 different campaigns. Yes, 21^st century European football competition is loaded in favour of the big clubs from the big leagues, but, if we are as good as football as we like to think we are, we should be doing better than we currently are. But, the fact is, Scottish clubs are decidedly League One, far less Championship class in Europe.

The game's high heid yins up here may occasionally shuffle the deckchairs, but, otherwise, the Sinking Ship Scotland just sails on,bouncing off icebergs left, right and centre. And, until we really grasp the nettle and make the needed changes, we will continue to be also-rans in the race for football success.

Soccer And Rugby Union - Very-Different Forms Of Football

I WATCHED Rugby's FOSROC Super6 final, from the new DAM Health Edinburgh Stadium on Sunday afternoon. Ayrshire Bulls (that's Ayr in old money), beat Southern Knights (Melrose) 26-16 in a very-good game.

One of the major talking points in the rugby community was that the Bulls finished with 13 men. Jordan Lenac, their Australian scrum-half was sent to the sin bin with eight minutes left, for an off-the-ball tackle. Then, two minutes later, English second row Tom Everard copped a straight red card for a high tackle, which saw Knights' Jacob Henry removed from the field on a stretcher.

Referee Keith Allen consulted his assistant, David Sutherland, then summoned Everard AND Bulls' captain Blair Macpherson. He outlined his decision to both, showed Everard the red card and the big lock immediately accepted his dismissal and left the field without rancour.

Now, imagine if that had been a football match of similar status. The yellow card would not have meant the loss of a player, while the showing of the red card would immediately have seen the referee surrounded by the culprit's team mates and subjected to dog's abuse. The fans would have been going ape shit on the sidelines and social media would go into melt down with the fall-out.

Football has a great deal of growing-up to do.

I have long felt, football, as the purest form of football, really should be working with standards of behaviour and respect for opponents and officials even above that shown in both forms of Rugby – Union and League. We should be hammering not just foul play, but the cynicism of the modern game.

Referees, I feel, should also be giving the team captain's their place. In rugby, if a player is being carded, particularly red-carded, the referee always summons the player and the captain, and tells them why the card is being shown. Occasionally – yes you Owen Farrell and Alun Wyn Jones – a captain will occasionally talk back, but, most skippers accept the referee's decision and the game moves on.

Players respect the referee's authority and the referees acknowledge the position of the team captain – football should maybe adopt these protocols.

I'VE TOLD this story before, but, it's worth the re-telling. Some 30 years ago, when it was Scotland's turn to host the annual International Football Associations Board meeting – the game's version of a super government get-together – they put-up the IFAB delegates at Turnberry. On the Saturday afternoon, the non-golfers got a real treat, a Kilmarnock home game at Rugby Park.

Back then, the press seats at the ground were in the back row of the Directors' Box and some of the IFAB high heid yins, in particular then Football Association CEO Graham Kelly were not best pleased at having to sit right infront of the hack pack.

However, by half time, a dialogue had been established by those of us behind him and Mr Kelly, to the extent he didn't go downstairs for his half-time Killie Pie and Bovril, but, remained in his seat, speaking to the boys.

At the end of the game, he shook hands with us all, apologised for his initial frostiness. “I thought you guys were going to be like English football writers, but, you care about the game,” he said, before wishing us well and departing.

As it happens, I agreed with his view of the English hacks – they really had some disagreeable wee cnuts in their ranks back then, probably still do for all I know. But, I have long felt causing a stir and making waves comes before honestly covering the game for many English hacks.

There is a good example of this just now. There is an under-current building-up, the start of what could be a determined crusade to get Ole Gunnar Solskjaer sacked from his role as Manchester United manager.

OK, I accept both Manchester teams probably have more Glory Hunters in their support than even our own Bigot Brothers, but, a bit of a reality check – as of today, MU lie sixth in the English Premiership, five points off first place. If what the English hacks tell us and they are playing in: The Best League in the World, then, I would suggest sixth isn't a bad place to be.

English football really needs to take a long hard look at itself. Much as they love quoting English clubs' wins in European competitions, the facts are:

• No English club has won a European trophy with an all-English squad

• England's record in international competitions is abysmal

• World Cup – 1 HOME win in 18 attempts – 5.5% success rate

• European Championships – 0 wins in 16 attempts – 0% success rate

But still, every four years, their football media convinces their fans: Football's coming home.

Delusional, or what?

And yes I know – we cannot talk.

I HAVE NOT been blogging as much as I should have, of late, so this is the first chance I have had to mark the passing of former Liverpool and England striker Roger Hunt.

Hunt is immortalised as one of the Boys of '66, the team who beat West Germany to win the 1966 World Cup Final. He was perhaps the least-lauded of that 11; he wasn't, like Gordon Banks, Ray Wilson, Bobby Moore or Bobby Charlton, arguably the best player in the world in his position. He didn't, like Alan Ball or Geoff Hurst have a career-defining game that day. He wasn't, like Martin Peters “the future” in his position. No, like George Cohen, Nobby Stiles and Jack Charlton, he was a football journeyman who got lucky on one day and in one tournament.

Yes, he has a good strike record, certainly he was worthy of his place in a good Liverpool side, but, he was lucky to be picked ahead of Jimmy Greaves for that final. Greaves was a far-superior finisher.

The first time I saw Hunt was for England, against Scotland, at Hampden in 1964. Early-on in the game he was sent clear, one-on-one with goalkeeper Campbell Forsyth, who made a confidence building, excellent save, to keep the scoreline blank. I am willing to bet, had that chance fallen to Greaves, it would have been 1-0 to England and the whole game could have been different.

Certainly, Wullie Shankly picked Hunt frequently for Liverpool, so, he was a good player and a good finisher. My belated condolences to his family.

Today We're At The Top Of Our Roller Coaster - What Happens Next Worries Me

THE SFA paraded Sir Alex Ferguson at Hampden on Saturday evening, at half-time during the Scotland v Israel World Cup Qualifier. They presented him with a cap to mark his contribution to the 1967 World Tour, during which he played in non-cap internationals against Israel, Hong Kong and in three games against Australia. During this tour he scored six international goals, but, was never awarded a cap.

Ferguson was the second member of that tour party – who never won an official full cap – to be awarded a souvenir cap, former Hearts defender Alan Anderson, who played in the same internationals as Fergie, plus the final game, against Canada, in Winnipeg, was awarded a similar cap earlier this year. Anderson is suffering from Dementia and is in an Edinburgh care home. Harry Hood's son was also there to accept a cap on behalf of his late father.

Now, I don't have much respect for the journalistic qualities of the SFA's Media Department. OK, they're better than the SRU's lot at Murrayfield, but, that's damning with faint praise. The official citation for the caps, on the SFA website suggests two of the Australian internationals, plus the Canadian game in Winnipeg have now been upgraded to A international status. Fair enough, but, which two of the three Australian games? And what about the game against Israel? OK, I can understand not making th Hong Kong game an official international, but, surely, given subsequent events and not least the timing of the presentation, how can the Israel game not be upgraded?

I welcome these gestures by the governing body, but, what of the other members of the tour party who fall into the played for Scotland but never capped club? These men are: former Burnley goalkeeper, the late Harry Thomson, former Partick Thistle and Bury full-back Hugh Tinney and another who has now sadly passed: Anderson's old Hearts' team mate Jim Townsend. Should they, and in the case of the trio who are no longer with us, their families, not also be presented with a cap? And, while we are at it, what of the final member of the touring squad, ex-Arsenal man John Woodward, who flew out to New Zealand as a replacement, played in the two games there and in Vancouver. Should he not also have his contribution to the Tour recognised?

Back in the early days of this century, I was proud to write a piece for The Scotsman, in which I identified the then 92 players who had played in full internationals for Scotland, but, because of the rules in place at the time, were denied a cap. Donald Walker, the then Sports Editor, who championed the initiative, led with the disgraceful fact, Eddie Turnbull, had played nine games for Scotland, but didn't get a cap. The SFA immediately capitulated and Eddie got his cap, on the park at Hampden.

The Welsh Rugby Union has in place a system whereby players who play in “non-cap internationals” receive what is called A President's Cap, to mark the occasion. Why doesn't the SFA copy this? I can think of a few players who would be honoured if they did this, men such as Partick Thistle's Davie Baird, the late St Mirren centre-half Jackie McGuigan and former Rangers and Liverpool left-half Billy Stevenson, who all played in the non-cap match against Jutland, during an end-of-season European Tour in 1959. And what of former Hearts, Kilmarnock and St Mirren goalkeeper, the late Jimmy Brown, who featured in the non-cap internationals agains the USA and Canada, during the 1949 North American Tour.

The late Danny Malloy, of Dundee and Cardiff City, was in double figures for appearances for “Scotland Xis” and the like. He was seen as the natural replacement for Willie Woodburn and George Young, but, he never got a cap. Surely all these representative honours are worthy of a Scottish edition of the President's Cap.

WRU President's Caps were also awarded to previously unrecognised War-time internationalists. Might it perhaps be time to recognise the handful of unfortunate players, such as Brentford goalkeeper Ted Crozier and Blackpool centre forward Jock Dodds, whose peak years and Scotland recognition came during war-time?

NEWCASTLE UNITED being taken over by Saudi Arabian interests was this week's big story darn sarf.

Back in the 1970s, while I was working in England, on a Saturday, deiving back up the M1 or the A1 to my then Yorkshire home, I would pass convoys of Newcastle coaches, taking the Toon Army south to wherever the Magpies were playing that day. I used to think: “These guys must be the most-loyal and unfulfilled fans in the country.”

United last won the English League in 1927, when Hughie Gallacher was their captain. They last won the FA Cup in 1955, when Jimmy Scoular was their captain, and the team included Ronnie Simpson in goals and Bobby Mitchell at outside left, while they were managed by Scot Doug Livingstone.

Their last major trophy was the Inter-Cities Fairs Cup, in 1969, when the team, led by Bobby Moncur and including fellow Scots Tommy Gibb, Jim Scott and Jackie Sinclair beat Rangers in the semi-final. So, yes, the Toon Army has maybe become used to under-achievement and disappointment.

The famous black and white stripes have been worn by many famous Scots – how's this for an all-time team of Newcastle Scots, in 3-4-3 formation: Ronnie Simpson; Gary Caldwell, Bobby Moncur, Stephen Caldwell; John Brownlie, Roy Aitken, Jimmy Smith, Tony Green; Kevin Gallacher, Hughie Gallacher, Bobby Mitchell.

Ignore the distinguished number of Scots to have played there, it used to be said the North-East produced more professional footballers than any other area of England, but, for every Paul Gascoigne, Alan Shearer or Jackie Milburn who was a hero to the Gallowgate End, there would be a Bobby or Brian Robson or a Jack or Bobby Charlton that they allowed to slip away.

Since the new owners have designs on challenging at the top of the English Premiership I dare say, in the short term they will try to buy their way there. I just wonder if they might be better, in the long run, mining the still rich seam of local talent around the Toon.

But, building from the ground up isn't the style in that league, which is a pity. After all, following 94 years without a league title, what's the hurry?

I AM NOW into my eighth decade as a Tartan Army foot soldier. I saw George Young, Tommy Docherty and Bobby Evans play for Scotland; the Glory Years of Denis Law and Jim Baxter, I rocked through the World Cup campaigns of the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s, but, even back then, we blew games we should have won easily. We had bad days almost as often as we had great days, an unbeaten season would be followed by one when we barely won a game.

Since the end of World War II, we have only won around 40% of the 600-plus internationals we have played. Supporting Scotland has always been a roller coaster ride. That said, I don't think many of these games have been a white-knuckle ride to compare with Saturday night at Hampden.

At least we won, but, we are now convincing ourselves we only need to turn up to win in the Faroe Islands and Moldova, and we will qualify for the World Cup Qualifying Play-Offs.

I am worried now.

Good Luck In Changing Scottish Football

WAY BACK, in the middle years of the last century, when the Glasgow printed and published SCOTTISH Daily Express was the dominant media organ in the land, they did a story about an elder, attending his first General Assembly of the Church of Scotland – back then the closest thing Scotland had to a national parliament.

“What do I do?” the nervous newcomer asked his minister as they took their seats in the Assembly Hall. The old minister pointed out another cleric, sitting across the room: The Right Reverend Dr. George MacLeod, Baron MacLeod of Fuinary.

“Whatever he does – you do,” was the advice.

What has that wee tale have to do with Scottish fitba? You may well ask. However, I would wager, similar advice will be offered to newcomers to fitba's corridors of power. But, while all the fathers and bretheren in the ministry and eldership attending the Assembly believed Rev. George was 'God's Minister,' which way their fitba cousins jump at SFA gatherings may well depend on whether the recipient of the advice believes in a Catholic or a Protestant God of Football, and will follow one or other half of the Bigot Brothers.

The problem then is, the Glasgow giants have probably already had their own private meeting, decided what course of action would best suit their needs and have got the wagons circled in common cause.

In football, as in life – money shouts, and Billy and Tim have more followers and money than the other clubs combined, therefore, their will will be done.

That said, I wish Aberdeen, Dundee, Dundee United, Heart of Midlothian and Hibernian well in their efforts to drag Scottish Fitba into the 21st century. However, I will not be holding my breath for change.

You see, it's not merely the Big Two who have entrenched positions to defend. Some of the bottom feeders among the 42 “senior” clubs in Scotland are fearing for their lives.

Since the changes which saw a Scottish pyramid formed and regular play-offs between the team finishing last in the Scottish Professional Football League and the better club of the Highland and Lowland League champions, Berwick Rangers, Brechin City and East Stirlingshire have all lost their 'Senior' status.

It might still be early days in the story of season 2021-2022, but, officials with long-established clubs Albion Rovers, Cowdenbeath, Stenhousemuir and Stranraer, currently occupying positions 39 to 42 in the pecking order, will already be privately asking themselves: “What if we finish bottom and lose the play-off?”

Regular readers will not be surprised to learn, in my view, we could do with losing a few more of our “Senior” clubs. Forty-two “Senior” teams, in a nation of five and a half million people – to my mind that number could be more than halved.

A study of who has won what in Scottish football makes interesting reading. OK, we know, the Old Firm have dominated the trophy-winning for generations, but, if we look merely at this century, 22 seasons-worth of history, we find:

• 18 of the current 42 clubs have never appeared in the top flight

• In addition, only 18 clubs have appeared in the top division this century

• Only Celtic and Rangers have won the top division of the league this century

• Only 10 of the other 40 clubs has even won one of the two major cups this century

• These cup wins amount to 27% of the total

• Overall, the Old Firm pair have won 82% of the trophies this century.

Therefore, for as long as we include “failing” unsuccessful clubs, who are not challenging for the major honours, the tail is wagging the dog.

An additional drawback for anyone attempting to sell the Scottish Professional Football League as a league worth investing in as a sponsor is – in that field, money talks, and the big money is all held outside Scotland. Outside Scotland, the only football teams that most people have heard of are – Celtic and Rangers.

Getting sponsors for an annual two-horse race is not an easy sell.

Those pushing for change, modernisation, call it what you will, have apparently been influenced by the North American professional sports models, with which some of their club directors are familiar.

I just wonder, have they noticed, in professional sports in North America, very few of the big franchises have more than one in a major city. Look at the facts:

• Major League Baseball – 30 clubs, two franchises in the same city: Chicago – Cubs and White Sox; Los Angeles – Dodgers and Angels; New York – Yankees and Mets; San Francisco – Giants and Oakland Athletics. Twenty-two other single city franchises.

• National Basketball Association – 30 clubs, two franchises in the same city: Los Angeles – Lakers and Clippers; New York – Knicks and Brooklyn Nets. Twenty-six other single city franchises.

• National Football League – 32 clubs, two franchises in the same city: Los Angeles – Chargers and Rams; New York – Giants and Jets. Twenty-eight other single city franchises.

• National Hockey League – 32 clubs, two franchises in the same city: Los Angeles – Kings and Anaheim Ducks; New York – Islanders and Rangers. Twenty-eight other single city franchises.

In North America, it is only the really big cities where you have two franchises – surely it would make sense to amalgamate the two Dundee clubs and the two Edinburgh clubs, to form bigger, single-city clubs, better able perhaps to challenge the Glasgow giants. I will leave that one here, while I don my steel helmet and flak jacket.

Also, in North America, and I think those North American-raised investors in our clubs will have noticed this – they play their sports in Conferences, where relegation is not an issue. Once your club is in a league, they cannot be kicked out, even if they repeatedly finish bottom. It's up to them to improve their playing staff and get up the pecking order.

Mind you, one thing North American sport does not have is a richer neighbour next door, able to cherry-pick their best players away. But, that's another story.

What every North American sport does have, however, is a single major league – the destination of choice of every player, but, also minor leagues which feed the talent up to their big league, and where the emphasis is on player development.

Maybe that's a game plan we should be looking at here. A ring-fenced 16 to 20 team league, playing in two conferences of similar standard, with cross-over games leading to a big Grand Final – now just maybe, here in Scotland, that could be the best small league in the world.

Socrates Pays Tribute To One Of The Immortals

Jimmy Greaves: 20 February,  1940 - 21 September, 2021

 

THE NEWS of Jimmy Greaves' passing cast something of a damper on Sunday. At a time when average players, capable of passing accurately to a team mate five yards away, are worth ludicrous sums of money on an over-inflated transfer market, it does the game good to be reminded of genuine class on the park.

The fact the BBC saw fit to lead the Sunday evening national news with the news of Jimmy's passing demonstrates the affection with which he was held in the country, and, in this case I mean the United Kingdom, not just England – although he was very-much an English sporting hero.

Greavsie was also someone who was warmly received when he ventured north, mainly with Tottenham Hotspur – Scottish football fans have always recognised and acknowledged class. He only actually played once at Hampden for the full England team. He was in the side destroyed 2-0 in 1962.

Tottenham apparently had first dibs on young talent in Manor Park, Essex, the part of Greater London where Jimmy grew-up, but, they missed him and he signed instead for Chelsea, where he was one of “Ted Drake's Ducklings,” a squad of talented youngsters put together by the manager to succeed the ageing squad who had delivered the first league title to Stamford Bridge in 1955.

The “Ducklings” were soon swimming in the deep waters of the first team – Peter Bonetti, Ron Harris, Terry Venables, Peter Brabrook, Barry Bridges and Bobby Tambling all went on to have significant careers, however, from the moment he announced himself with a debut goal, against Spurs, in August, 1957, it was obvious – here was a natural goal scorer.

He left Chelsea at the end of the 1960-61 season, having scored 132 goals in 169 appearances, signing-off with all four goals in a 4-3 win over Nottingham Forest. That took his tally for the season to 41 goals in 40 games.

His next stop was AC Milan, but, even before he landed in Italy, Greaves had realised he had made a mistake leaving London. AC paid £80,000 for his signature, he got a signing-on fee of £15,000 and was to be paid £140 per week – massive money for those times.

He again scored on his debut, but he was miserable throughout his time in Italy, where he didn't get on with the coach and objected to the control his club insisted on having over his life. But, he did score 9 goals in 14 games, an excellent return in those days of stifling Italian defences.

Bill Nicholson saw-off Chelsea's attempts to buy him back, Spurs finally had their man, at a cost of £99,999. The canny Nicholson knocked £1 off the price, so Greaves would not be burdened with the tag of being football's first £100,000 player.

His obligatory debut goal was part of a hat-trick in a 5-2 win over Blackpool, of which his flying scissors kick for one of the goals is a highly-celebrated strike. He had joined the team which had secured English football's first league and cup double the previous season, but, the league title was to elude him. He did help Spurs win the FA Cup, then become the first British team to win a European Trophy, when they won the Cup-Winners Cup, thrashing Rangers en route.

He remained with Spurs throughout the 1970s, forming a particularly-deadly scoring partnership with Alan Gilzean on his way to notching a club record 268 goals.

His next stop in a tour of London clubs was West Ham United, whom he joined as the make-weight in the deal which took Martin Peters in the opposite direction. The Hammers, however, were a club in decline> Peters had, gone, Bobby Moore and Geoff Hurst were in decline and their replacements were not of the same calibre.

Greaves was unhappy, drinking too much, unfit and on the downward slope to alcoholism. He only scored 13 goals in 40games for West Ham – way below his normal return. He was only 31 when his top-flight career ended in May, 1971. However, in all, between his three London clubs and AC| Milan, he scored 366 goals in the top flight, a record which stood until surpassed by Cristiano Ronaldo in 2017.

He tried to continue playing in non-league football, but, he was in the throes of alcoholism, a battle he finally won in 1979. He remained sober for the rest of his life.

Internationally, he scored 13 goals in 12 appearances for the England Under-23 side before making his England debut, in Peru, during a close season tour in 1959. He, needless to say, scored on his debut and would go on to eclipse the then England goal-scoring record and go on to score 44 times in 57 internationals. This tally included six hat-tricks, one against Scotland in the 9-3 thrashing in 1961 – when he had a fourth goal chalked off for offside.

His England career lasted until May, 1967, however, after injury saw him replaced by Geoff Hurst for the knock-out stages of the 1966 tournament, and he was, although fit, not restored to the team for the final, Jimmy somewhat fell out of love with playing for England, finally asking Alf Ramsey not to pick him as: “a bit-part player.”

What a goalscorer:

• 44 in 57 games for England – 0.77 goals per game

• 13 in 12 games for England Under-23s – 1.08 gpg

• 2 in 2 games for the London XI – 1 gpg

• 132 in 169 games for Chelsea – 0.78 gpg

• 9 in 14 games for AC Milan - 0.64 gpg

• 268 in 381 games for Tottenham – 0.70 gpg

• 13 in 40 games for West Ham United – 0.325 gpg

Including his later spell in non-league football, he played a total of 777 games, scoring 526 goals, an average of 0.68 goals per game. The benchmark for a top-class finisher is supposedly 0.5 goals per game. Given, in the latter stages of his career, he played more in midfield, that figure shows what a great finisher Greaves was. His top-flight figures are remarkable: 479 goals in 673 games, an average of 0.71 goals per game.

He was one of the ultimate penalty-box predators in his later years, but, at the start of his career he scored some remarkable goals by using his blistering pace to run at defences from distance.

After football he became one of the first footballers to have a media career. He drove a Ford Escort in the World Cup Rally of 1970, finishing sixth; then appeared on the punditry panel. He wrote columns for the Sun and the Sunday People and for football magazines, as well as writing several football books, including a well-received autobiography, often in conjunction with his life-long friend Normal Gillier..

His best-known media career was as one half of “Saint and Greavsie,” with former Scotland cap Ian St John. Their long-running partnership was must-watch pre-match viewing on a Saturday.

He married Irene Barden in 1958. They had five children, losing their eldest, Jimmy Junior, as a toddler. Irene sued for divorce at the height of Jimmy's alcoholism, but, the separation was never formalised and, after three months, they reunited and remained together untilo his death.

Along with the other squad members who had not played in the 1966 World Cup Final, Jimmy received a winner's medal in 2009. He was made MBE in the 2021 New Year's Honours for his services to football. By then, however, following ill-health and a major stroke in May, 2015, he was reduced to relying on a wheel chair to get about.

Jimmy Greaves was a character, he had a ready wit and pithy sense of humour. After football, Alan Gilzean worked for a haulage company, with whom he re-located to Weston-Super-Mare. There were lurid tales of him having hit hard times and when he was eventually persuaded to return to White Hart Lane for a Spurs game, he was greeted with: “Where the Hell have you been hiding?” by Greaves. “Keeping out of your way,” was Gillie's response.

He was one of the few members of the 1966 England team that most Scots would gladly have taken as one of our own. Imagine a front two of Greaves and Denis Law? Indeed, one of the legends around Scotland's 1967 Wembley win is that: “They strengthened their World Cup-winning team to play us.” Greaves for Roger Hunt was the only change to the 1966 immortals for the Scotland game.

Jimmy Graves – some player. Rest in Peace Wee Man.