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Gerard Houllier – an appreciation by Patrick Barclay

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Patrick Barclay, our former Chairman, knew Gerard Houllier better and for longer than most of us, and here is his heartfelt and eloquent appreciation of his friend;

The word ‘’bonhomie’’ might have been invented for Gerard Houllier. Friendly almost to a fault, he was rare among football men in sharing himself with equal generosity between his beloved coaching fraternity – no photograph of a FIFA or UEFA seminar was ever complete without his smiling face – and the game’s media followers.

Away from football, he even shared the rest of his life with a journalist: his elegant and lovely wife Isabelle, whose attempts to acquire an interest in the passion that consumed too many of his hours were never wholly convincing.

During the 1998 World Cup, the United Kingdom ambassador in Paris hosted a reception in the garden of his fine residence and Isabelle, while waiting for Gerard to arrive from a meeting at the French squad’s headquarters, found herself amid a mixture of great-and-good and press, none of the latter wishing to be indelicate enough to ask, on such an occasion, the question on everyone’s mind. ‘’Well,’’ someone else blurted, ‘’is your husband going to take the Liverpool job?’’

Isabelle broke the embarrassed silence with a sweet smile. ‘’Oh, Gerard,’’ she said, ‘’he never tells me anything about his work.’’

It was part diplomacy, and part truth. And yet Isabelle, her own work permitting, was usually there to help Gerard offer hospitality to his friends in the football media; an indication of how many we numbered is that, in the hour after his death became public, I made or took more than a dozen calls.

An example of the affection he inspired was a text message Gerard received from Phil McNulty, the BBC’s chief online football writer, shortly after Liverpool had so dramatically won the Champions League in Istanbul in 2005 under the management of Rafa Benitez, who had replaced Houllier after it seemed the Frenchman’s powers had been diminished by a brush with death (caused by a ruptured aorta). After celebrating Liverpool’s victory over Milan on penalties, Houllier glanced at his phone and grinned at what McNulty had sensitively taken time out to write: ‘’See all those crap players you bought have become European champions!’’

Like all managers, Houllier suffered criticism and, like most of them, he could brandish questionable statistics in his defence. As if completing a hat-trick of cups in his most memorable Liverpool season – 2000/01, when the UEFA Cup was added to the domestic double – were not enough, he would always throw in the Charity Shield and European Super Cup as well. You could have a laugh with him about most things, but possibly not that.

We met a couple of years after, having guided Lens from the second division in Europe and Paris-St Germain to their first league title, he had begun work on the restructuring of French football that was to culminate in World Cup triumph in the summer of the ambassador’s garden party. Houllier, who spoke perfect English – he had taught in Liverpool for a year in his early twenties – was guesting for the English press team on the morning of a full international somewhere or other. As I recall he lined up in central defence along a mate he’d brought along, a tall guy called Arsene Wenger.

When Wenger was appointed manager of Arsenal, I naturally rang Houllier to ask what to expect. ‘’He’s a great coach and a great lad,’’ came the reply, ‘’but why don’t you ring him to get a better idea?’’ Upon which he gave me a number in Japan, where Wenger was completing his contracted span with Grampus 8 of Nagoya, and a most fascinating exclusive interview ensued.

That was typical of Houllier’s anxiety to help anyone he trusted. Once my friend Colin Malam reached a career milestone with the Sunday Telegraph, whose sports editor, Jon Ryan, knowing Colin was a Liverpool fan and that I got on well with Houllier, asked if some sort of congratulatory message could be arranged; Houllier did better, inviting Colin to bring all of us to what proved a memorable lunch with him in the Anfield boardroom.

Lunch after Houllier’s near-death experience fell into a pattern: while the rest of us tucked in to cassoulet or some such calorific classic, he appeared to watch his waistline, ordering salad and asking that it be dressed without too much oil. And then, as we sat back replete and loosened our belts, he’d ask for pudding with cream.

One lunch was designed to show off his pride and joy, a Melwood – Liverpool’s training ground – that he had completely redesigned to see the club into the new age of English football.

Among the many features was a restaurant where he let me eat with the players. One was very young – lean, almost gawky – and seemed shy as he shook hands. As we sat down I asked Houllier to remind me of the boy’s name. ‘’Steven Gerrard,’’ he said. ‘’I’ve brought him into the first-team group because he’s going to be a great player.’’ Houllier puffed out his cheeks and exhaled, as he always did for emphasis.

It was a joy to share his relish for football and for life (though they usually overlapped) and, as is customary, the legacy is the survivor’s wish for more. Houllier always offered a spare room at his house near the Roland Garros tennis stadium in Paris and much though I enjoyed evenings there, watching football on one of several wide screens, it is always difficult to know whether one is taking advantage of a friend’s generosity. He was a true friend, to the FWA and to so many of its members.

Let the tributes elsewhere do justice to his work, which will be forever etched in the annals of clubs either side of the Channel and the French national team; we shall remember Gerard Houllier as a football man to whom we were part of football.

 

Gerard Houllier 1947-2020

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We at the FWA are saddened to have lost another great supporter and friend with the passing of Gerard Houllier, who has died in Paris at the age of 73.

Gerard was a great football manager, bringing enormous success to the French football team, Liverpool and Lyon among others.  Many, many journalists remember him from their professional relationships as a fair and friendly man, who could also be firm when necessary.

Gerard also attended and spoke at many FWA events, a great supporter of our association and a good friend to many of our members.  Philippe Auclair was particularly close, and has found time in his personal grieving to put down his cherished memories of Gerard here:

 

“I could speak about the manager who reinvented Liverpool, about the National Technical Director of the French FA to whom the 1998 world title also belonged, about the coach who turned Lyon into the dominant force in French football, but my heart is not in it. Gérard was a friend. Like hundreds, probably thousands of others, and like his Merseyside family, like all these players who truly loved him, I am heartbroken.

“He had no greater gift than the gift for friendship, which he offered so generously, to me as well as to many others. I know that when someone of Gérard’s stature dies, there is always the unwelcome temptation to ‘own’ the person who has died, to bring it back to ‘he, or she, did this for me’, when, of course, we only played a fleeting, almost insignificant part in their lives, we do not really matter much in the greater scheme of things. In Gérard’s case, however, the ‘insignificant’ can mean so much that I hope you’ll forgive me for telling a story which, to me, encapsulates who he was, and why, today, so many grieve his death as they do.

“I’d written a less than complimentary piece about a game which his Liverpool had lost, a couple of paragraphs hastily put together shortly before the Sunday evening deadline. Today, I’m both ashamed and grateful that I’d done it.  Gérard had read my article in the plane that was taking him and his team to a European cup tie in central Europe. He’s been deeply hurt by it, and wanted me to know about it.

“Some other managers would have been happy to shrug it off or add my name to their list of ‘unfriendly’ or even ‘undesirable’ journalists; not Gérard. Sitting in the Airbus which was awaiting the all-clear for take-off on the tarmac, he called me and, with impeccable logic and courtesy (but with genuine irritation in his voice), dismantled my feeble argument. I could hear in the background a stewardess who, twice, asked him to switch off his mobile phone. But Gérard wasn’t quite done with me. What he wanted me to understand was that I was not aware of how words could hurt, that we never talked or wrote in a vacuum, that the people we attack in print are men and women made of flesh and blood, that it is possible to cause harm when none is intended. It is a lesson which I hope I did not forget afterwards. But the most remarkable thing is that it was that day that our friendship was born. Gérard was hyper-sensitive, and could be touchy at times; but vindictive or resentful – never.

“His religion was friendship, its greatest sacrament communion; in other words, he was made for Liverpool. I never saw him happier than when English football, which had soon recognized one of its own in the former language teacher, invited him to one of these functions of which there are no equivalent on the continent, as when, for example, he attended a FWA dinner – such as the tribute night we organised for Arsène Wenger, at which Gérard spoke with his customary eloquence – where players and managers old and new mingle with journalists and friends as families gather for Christmas. Gérard never turned down such invitations. He beamed with pleasure when he recognised a friendly face in the crowded room, never more so than when a players such as Jamie Carragher embraced him (calling him ‘boss’, of course). He was back home, as home, for him, was England, or, rather, English football. How he smiled then. That’s what hurts the most today, the thought of never seeing that wonderful smile again.

“Adieu, l’ami.”

Bill Meredith 1928-2020

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By John Ley of the FWA National Committee, and formerly the Daily Telegraph 

It is with regret we announce the passing of our oldest existing member, Bill Meredith, who has passed away at the age of 92.

Though Bill spent most of his working career on the production side, he was a familiar face for six decades in football press boxes pursuing his great love of writing.

Bill retired in 1993, after 26 years’ service on the Daily Telegraph, where he was assistant sports editor.

Bill’s love for all forms of sport saw him cover so many different types, from cricket, golf, tennis and football to fencing.

Those who were lucky enough to encounter a man who always seemed to have a smile on his face remember his preference for ‘man hugs’ long before they became fashionable, and, as I can testify, his ability to come close to breaking a shoulder when he greeted you with a welcoming punch.

Bill was born in Northampton, in 1928, and soon became a fan of The Cobblers. He was in the press box when George Best scored six at the old County Ground, in 1970, when Manchester United won an FA Cup tie 8-2.

The family moved to London when he was nine and, just short of his 14th birthday he took his first, tentative steps into Fleet Street when he became a ‘copy boy’ for the old Evening News, collecting and delivering copy from all over London including Westminster.

After the war, in 1946, Bill was conscripted into the RAF and was posted to Egypt where tensions were running high after the hostilities.

Bill had always wanted to write and, on his return to England, landed a job on a magazine called The Competitors Journal, as a sports reporter.

Bill also did subbing shifts on the Daily Mirror – he became good friends with my father, Charlie, who was a photographer there around the same time.

He honed his writing skills by covering games for Sunday papers before landing a job as assistant press officer at Ladbrokes – only to discover on his first day that he had been promoted to press officer after the present incumbent had quit!

Bill’s contacts within all sports – he was a member of the MCC – through working with the betting company was to prove invaluable and. In 1964, when the Daily Herald was replaced by a broadsheet version of The Sun, he was ‘poached’ by Sports Editor Frank Nicklin, as a sub.

But after three years he moved across the Street to the Daily Telegraph as a sports writer, and remained there until his retirement, in 1993. But you can’t keep a good scribe down and Bill continued to write match reports well into the new century.

Bill made people smile and commanded the respect of all he met – even more in more unlikely areas.

Ian Pfeiffer, a Telegraph ‘comp’ or compositor in Fleet Street, South Quay and Canary Wharf, remembers him fondly.  “As far as I can remember Bill was just one of two editorial Subs that we banged out on their retirement, which speaks columns of how well he was liked on the stone in Fleet Street and the subsequent cold metal days in Docklands.”

Another story is told by his wife Margaret. “He was with the comps and when one of them complained that the sports pages were late, so he ruffled his hair – and removed his toupee.  He tried to put it back – and put it on back to front!”

Those who recall the frosty atmosphere on ‘stone’ will know those actions were unheard of. But that was Bill.

Bill had high standards and those at the Telegraph all remember the times when he would lose him temper at the sight of a shoddy sentence, or wrong facts.

Former colleague Peter Mitchell recalls:  “What a lovely, quirky, vital man he was. He was in the office when I did my first shift on the Telegraph in 1988 and within the first hour I had witnessed a classic Bill glasses-throwing episode.”

Indeed, that act was always followed by the words: “I’m not sure I like your attitude,” if anybody dared to respond. Mostly, though, it was said with tongue in cheek.

Another former Telegraph colleague, Gareth Williams, recalls another great story. “We both loved boxing and Bill’s legendary story was when he was covering the Joe Bugner v Richard Dunn British heavyweight title fight. The office asked for a round-by-round account with a top and tail – at least 1000 words. Bugner raced out of the blocks and knocked Dunn down three times. All over in two minutes. Even Bill was lost for words!”

Bill and Margaret were able to celebrate their 60th Wedding anniversary and she reveals a man who loved writing as much as he loved people. Bill was a churchgoer, who also loved nothing more than going to the opera or a good musical.

“The last production we saw was Hamilton,” says Margaret. “We warned him there was a lot of rapping – but he loved it, loved the vibrancy and life in it. That was Bill.”

Bill is survived by Margaret and children Steve, Sarah and Will, and 10 grandchildren.

Bill Meredith with former Telegraph colleagues on his 90th birthday

Bill with former Telegraph sports editor Keith Perry

Kevin McCarra 1958-2020

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We at the FWA are saddened that our dear friend and colleague Kevin McCarra has passed away at the age of 62.  Kevin was a much-loved member, friend and colleague. His good friend Philippe Auclair has written this tribute to the former Guardian football correspondent.

“There are few things which are harder to write than a tribute to a friend who has just died. I knew Kevin was desperately ill, but somehow hoped against hope that he’d pull through one more time. Then the phone rang late on Saturday night, and as soon as I saw who was calling, I knew. We’d lost Kevin.

Jonathan Wilson has written, quite beautifully, about our mutual friend in the Guardian, and I won’t attempt to tread the same path myself. The overwhelming response to Jonathan’s piece told its own story: Kevin held a very special place in people’s hearts.

He owed this unique place – beyond the circle of friends who adored him, beyond the Celtic family which has lost one of its most cherished members – to his prowess as a writer, or, more accurately, to the uniqueness of his writing. For Kevin wrote like an angel, but not just in the sense we usually mean when we say this. He had the economy of style, the lightness of touch and the elegance you’d expect from an admirer of David Lacey’s journalism, as well as a remarkable ability to detect and fan away the faintest whiff of cliché; but what made Kevin’s gift unique is that he never used it to mock, belittle or hurt anyone, whilst still conveying the passion he had for the game and not once reneging on his beliefs and his contempt for those who betrayed what he held to be right for football – and for society.

His readers could feel this. They instinctively knew that his passionate, yet measured voice was the voice of a kind man, and they were right: kindness was the defining trait of his character. Many of the other virtues he demonstrated in his life and in his work sprang from it. When the news of his death was made public on social media on Sunday, people who’d met him on just a few occasions spoke of how he’d always been considerate, attentive to them, polite to a fault (if such a thing is possible), humble and helpful. These were other ways to say this simple thing: he was the kindest of men. He could be as sharp as anyone, and as funny too; but not once did I hear him being cruel.

There was a certain otherwordliness about Kevin, which is the first thing which attracted me to him when we met in the press box for the first time, some twenty years ago, and which went well beyond his legendary incapacity to master anything to do with computers. Kevin stood out in a way only Kevin could. Maybe he still felt a certain bemusement at having become the Guardian’s football correspondent, the position he’d dreamt of long before he moved from Glasgow to London. He did not fit in, yet he did. He remained a fan to the last (attending home games at Partick Thistle until his condition made it impossible for him to bear crowds), but could not found guilty of one-eyedness. He was a celebrant in the church of Celtic FC, but was never blind to the dangers of sectarism.

These are not contradictions. These are the characteristics of a good man. This is how I will remember him. And when I miss him, which will be often, and for a long time, and I’m hit by his absence a bit harder than usual, I’ll play Curtis Mayfield’s version of the Carpenters’ We’ve Only Just Begun, a favourite of his, and will give thanks to have called a friend the lovely man who brought this song and so much else in my life, as he did bring so much else in the life of so many others.”

https://www.theguardian.com/football/2020/oct/25/kevin-mccarra-obituary

FWA AGM on Wednesday October 14

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The Annual General Meeting of the FWA will be held on Wednesday October 14 at 10am on Zoom.

All FWA members are welcome to attend, and if you wish to do so, please contact our executive secretary Paul McCarthy for log-in details on paul@maccamedia.co.uk

All members of the National Executive committee are expected to attend.  Matters to be discussed will be election of officials, financial report and matters arising. Minutes will be published following the meeting.

Mental well-being advice for football writers

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Paul McCarthy, our Executive Secretary, has posted an important message on Twitter about mental health (below). The FWA and our chair Carrie Brown have worked hard with the FA, via their HEADS UP campaign, to develop a resource pack specifically for FWA members: https://www.mentalhealthatwork.org.uk/toolkit/mental-health-some-pointers-for-football-writers/
From @PaulMcCarthy66:

Apologies in advance for a somewhat lengthy thread but as Executive Secretary of @theofficialfwa it’s become a real concern to see so many young sports journalists suffering mental health issues through simply trying to do their job.

Our chair @CarrieBrownTV has made it a major part of her tenure to highlight this issue and for the FWA to provide assistance and support for anybody suffering in this way, be they members or non-members.

But I thought I’d try and put down a few thoughts on trying to cope with the pressures the job entails, especially in an era where your work is scrutinised and possibly decried almost instantaneously. I also write this as somebody who has made more than their share of mistakes.

If you write with honesty you never have anything for which to reproach yourself. You’ll make mistakes, but if they are made honestly and you learn from them, you can always look yourself in the mirror.

Never take short cuts, even if you are under pressure from your boss or even if you’re putting pressure on yourself. A great reporter, Alex Montgomery, once told me never to write what you don’t know. There’s no shame in admitting that, just work harder to actually find out.

Being at the receiving end of a Twitter pile-on can be overwhelming. But remember the vast majority of those criticising don’t have your level of credibility, insight, knowledge or contacts. Your best friend is the mute button, never be afraid to use it. In fact, enjoy using it.

By and large, Twitter is the equivalent of six blokes arguing in a pub after a match. Sometimes it’s funny and insightful but most of the time it’s just seeing who can shout the loudest to make their point as they become increasingly pissed.

Despite the inevitable pressure, football journalism is an incredible job even if it might feel there’s not the same level of prestige attached to it. Remember, most fans would give their eye teeth to do what you do, so try and enjoy it. Easy to say but important to do.

Most of all, talk to people. The job is too isolated now because its so easy to get in touch via email, text, WhatsApp or DMs. The best reporters actually physically TALK to their contacts, colleagues or even their rivals. We’re in the communication industry so communicate.

Finally, never be afraid to ask for help. My contact details are easy enough to find and I’ll always be happy to help or just try and offer advice. I’m sure the same goes for all my fellow FWA National Committee members. DO NOT SUFFER IN SILENCE. Asking for help is not a weakness.

JORDAN HENDERSON – Footballer of the Year

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The Football Writers’ Association are delighted to announce that Jordan Henderson is the Footballer of the Year for 2019-20.

The Liverpool captain saw off stiff opposition from Manchester City’s Kevin De Bruyne and Manchester United’s Marcus Rashford as well as team-mates, Virgil Van Dijk and Sadio Mane to claim the honour, the oldest individual award in the world.

Two other Liverpool players – Trent Alexander-Arnold and Alisson Becker – also received votes as the Premier League champions dominated the voting but it was Henderson who was a convincing winner, landing more than a quarter of the votes.

He said: “I’d like to say how appreciative I am of the support of those who voted for me and the Football Writers’ Association in general. You only have to look at the past winners of it, a number of whom I’ve been blessed to play with here at Liverpool, like Stevie (Gerrard), Luis (Suarez) and Mo (Salah) to know how prestigious it is.

 “But as grateful as I am I don’t feel like I can accept this on my own. I don’t feel like anything I’ve achieved this season or in fact during my whole career has been done on my own. I owe a lot to so many different people – but none more so than my current teammates – who have just been incredible and deserve this every bit as much as I do.

 “We’ve only achieved what we’ve achieved because every single member of our squad has been brilliant. And not just in matches. Not just in producing the moments that make the headlines and the back pages but every day in training. 

“The players who’ve started the most games for us this season have been as good as they have been because of our culture and our environment at Melwood. No one individual is responsible for that – it’s a collective effort and that’s how I view accepting this honour.

 “I accept it on behalf of this whole squad, because without them I’m not in a position to be receiving this honour. These lads have made me a better player – a better leader and a better person.

 “If anything I hope those who voted for me did so partly to recognise the entire team’s contribution.

 “Individual awards are nice and they are special and I will cherish this one. But an individual award without the collective achievement wouldn’t mean anywhere as much to me – if anything at all.”

FWA chair, Carrie Brown, said: “Leadership is intangible and often unquantifiable unless it is inarguable. Jordan Henderson is both the ultimate professional and now a bona fide Liverpool legend. 

“Jordan is a player his team-mates look to on the pitch and who his rivals look up to off it. The voting criteria for the Football Writers’ Association Footballer of the Year is one who leads by precept and example and in this country’s darkest moment, Jordan, unprompted, personally rallied club captains to establish #PlayersTogether. 

“Millions of pounds have been raised for the NHS and significantly #PlayersTogether is now an established collective power base for players to engage in campaigns, none more so evident in the ongoing and powerful anti-racism #BlackLivesMatter campaign. He is a truly worthy winner of our award.”

Gareth Southgate, England manager, added his own tribute to Henderson: “Jordan’s the epitome of selfless commitment to the team and so it’s extra special that he is being personally recognised for the way he’s played, led his club and role modelled off the field to help wider society. I’m delighted for him and his family.”

As well as the top five of Henderson, De Bruyne, Rashford, Van Dijk and Mane, ten other players received votes from FWA members including Alexander-Arnold, Alisson, Raheem Sterling, Aaron Wan-Bissaka, Sergio Aguero, Adama Traore, Danny Ings, Jack Grealish, James Madison and Jonny Evans.

The Footballer of the Year trophy has been awarded since 1948 when Sir Stanley Matthews was its first recipient. 

Jack Charlton by Colin Young

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Colin Young got to know Jack Charlton well as a journalist covering North East football and also the Republic of Ireland.  The two of them worked closely when Colin wrote “Jack Charlton – the Authorised Biography.”

Here is Colin’s tribute to his friend:

Very few men will unite Ireland, England and the rest of the United Kingdom in grief quite like Jack Charlton has this weekend.
To those of us fortunate enough to have covered his career from both sides of the Irish Sea, and hopefully to his family and friends, it will come as absolutely no surprise whatsoever.
The continued outpouring of so many affectionate tributes on social media, at the request of his grand daughter Emma, is a true mark of a wonderful man.
A football giant – he was nicknamed “The Giraffe” and “Big Jack” of course – he was a giant in life too. He loved life and people and people and life loved him.
Everyone who met him had a story. Something unusual or daft he did, or more likely said. He loved kids – right back to when he used to entertain Don Revie’s young children with sing-songs on the Leeds United bus on away trips – and made a point of making them laugh if they dared approach him for an autograph in club car parks. Twitter was full of such stories yesterday as the nation came to terms with his passing at the age of 85 on Friday.
His official biography, written four years ago, took six months, came to 100,000 words and included interviews from around 30 former team-mates, players, backroom staff, friends and family.
I always felt it barely scratched the surface. It could easily have been one million words, brimming with hilarious and touching anecdotes from 300 contributors, from all walks of life, all touched by the magic of Big Jack’s presence.
Not a single word could have been written without the hours spent with Jack, his wife Pat and son John and their backing – in his Ashington pitch he’d call me the ‘laird with the boo-k” – granted me access to team-mates, ex-players and, just as importantly, friends from his entire life. But never enough of them.
It is impossible to pick a favourite from the many tales told by Mick McCarthy, Andy Townsend, Paul McGrath, Tony Cascarino and so many others. But the best ones usually involved his mates and their fishing escapades.
He had his moments with journalists in his pomp. All real football men of that era did. But some of his lifelong best friends, like James Mossop and Peter Bryne, came from the written packs covering his career in England and Ireland. And they loved every minute of it.
When I was asked to put Jack’s biography together, I approached Peter and James to contribute with their personal reflections of their time on the road with Jack. Peter wrote his original biography and World Cup diaries. James had also penned a book or two and was with Jack every second of the night England won the World Cup in 1966. It can’t have been easy keeping the word count down. But like Jack, they were consummate professionals.
Journalists from Jack’s early years recalled his playing and club management days. John Helm (Leeds United), Ray Robertson (Middlesbrough), Peter Ferguson (Sheffield Wednesday), Bob Cass (Newcastle United). I’ll never forget Jack pausing to read Bob’s words as he was signing a pile on his kitchen table after the book had been published.
In his last piece before he died, Bob reflected on Jack’s hero-worship status in Ireland compared to the less favourable view of his own Geordie public after a botched attempt to resurrect cash-strapped Newcastle United in the wake of Kevin Keegan’s first departure. “It’s a good read that,” he said.*
Those who were part of Jack’s seven year adventure with the Republic of Ireland added to those stories from the memorable seven years at the helm of the Republic’s green army, such as Christopher Davies, David Walker, Gabriel Egan, George Hamilton, Philip Quinn and of course, the doyen Peter Byrne.
And the football might have been successful, but it wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t meant to be. And that really didn’t matter.
Jack took Republic of Ireland’s players, press and supporters to places they’d never dreamed of. He opened up the team hotel to celebrate as they took finals in Germany, Italy and the United States by storm, ensuring every press conferences, and every get-together was memorable for everybody.
There really will be no one quite like him.
The best piece in the book was written by Emma Wilkinson. Jack’s aforementioned grand daughter, now a journalist with ITV.
It included this passage:
 “In many ways grandad has led a very atypical life. But to us he has only ever been grandad. A man who mastered international football management, but still can’t operate the television remote. A man who has been lucky enough to be exposed to the finer things in life but still can’t accept that a battered haddock and bag of chips is going to set him back more than £2.50. And a man who will hold his grandchildren back from the road before they have looked both ways, whether they are four or twenty-four. Fame has not changed him and is a concept that he still finds endearingly novel. Nothing is ever too much to ask and whether he is sent something to sign in the post, or someone wants to reminisce with him in a restaurant or pub about Leeds, Ireland, the World Cup or anything else for that matter, he is always obliging. He feels fortunate to be in the position that he is, and he is hyper-aware of the future down the pit that may have awaited him had circumstances been different. Much has been written about the role my great-grandma Cissie played in altering this path but she is not the only woman to have played a pivotal role in his life, He owes a great deal to my grandma Pat, who with love and a dash of exasperation, has supported him unconditionally for more than 50 years.”

 

Big Jack in a nutshell. It was a privilege just to have met him.
 
*(Anyone who knew Bob, and may feel that’s a first, or not, are free to add their own comments at this point)

Jack Charlton RIP

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We at the FWA are saddened to learn of the passing on Friday of Leeds and England legend Jack Charlton OBE, at the age of 85.

Big Jack, as he was widely known, had an incredible playing career, culminating in a World Cup winner’s medal in 1966 as well as numerous successes with Leeds United, his only club.

He then went on to great success in management, most notably leading Ireland to the World Cup quarter-finals in 1990. He was voted our Footballer of the Year in 1967.

A family statement read: “Jack died peacefully on Friday 10 July at the age of 85. He was at home in Northumberland, with his family by his side.

“As well as a friend to many, he was a much-adored husband, father, grandfather and great-grandfather.

“We cannot express how proud we are of the extraordinary life he led and the pleasure he brought to so many people in different countries and from all walks of life.
“He was a thoroughly honest, kind, funny and genuine man who always had time for people. His loss will leave a huge hole in all our lives but we are thankful for a lifetime of happy memories.”
Having made his England debut at the age of 30 in 1965, Jack went on to win 35 caps, scoring six goals, with the highlight being the World Cup final success over West Germany in 1966. The the centre-half played in all six of England’s games at the tournament alongside his younger brother, Sir Bobby, and in total they represented their country together on 28 occasions.

Jack Charlton went on to be a part of England’s squads at the 1968 European Championship in Italy and the 1970 World Cup in Mexico with his final cap coming in the latter tournament; a 1-0 group stage win over Czechoslovakia.

He made a record 773 appearances over 21 years for Leeds during their most successful era, winning the League Championship, FA Cup, League Cup and Inter-City Fairs Cup .

After retiring as a player in 1973, Charlton moved into club management with Middlesbrough, Sheffield Wednesday and Newcastle United.
But it was as manager of Ireland that he hit the heights, first qualifying for the 1988 European Championship, their first major finals, before guiding them to the quarter-finals of the 1990 World Cup and the round of 16 at the FIFA World Cup.

He retired from football in 1996 but continued to be hugely popular as a TV pundit for many more years. Jack was a good friend to many FWA members and always had time for the media. He will be much missed, and we send our condolences to his wife Pat, family and friends.

Vivianne Miedema is Women’s Footballer of the Year

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Vivianne Miedema has been named the Football Writers’ Association Women’s Footballer of the Year.

The Arsenal striker missed out on the award by a single vote last year but this time the Dutch star has claimed the accolade by the narrowest of margins.

She was pushed all the way in the voting by Chelsea’s Bethany England and follows Lionesses forwards Nikita Parris (2019) and Fran Kirby (2018) to be named the third FWA Women’s Footballer of the Year. 

Chair of the FWA’s women’s sub-committee, Jen O’Neill, said: “This was a close-run decision because of the brilliant breakout season that Beth England had with the Lionesses and WSL champions Chelsea.

“However, Vivianne’s clinical efficiency in front of goal and her seemingly effortless poise, can mean her all-round ability and footballing intelligence are sometimes overlooked. She is a worthy winner and a world-class performer.

“With more assists than any other WSL player this season, she is also a valuable creator of openings for teammates; dropping to collect the ball and playing in others, or making space with her movement. 

“Although a humble and laid-back character, she is also determined that the women’s game carries on breaking barriers, and she continues to co-author a series of children’s books to entertain and inspire young players in the Netherlands.”  

The FAWSL’s Golden Boot winner for the past two seasons and leading scorer in the current UEFA Women’s Champions League competition, Miedema, maintained her stellar standards through 2019 and into 2020. She became the Netherlands’ all-time top scorer (male or female) when she netted her 60th goal at the World Cup in France last June, scoring three times for her country on their way to the final. 

The Women’s Footballer of the Year is decided by a two-stage poll of a panel of experts, and although the season was suspended after the international break in March and could not be completed due to the COVID-19 pandemic, the goal-grabbing form of the FAWSL’s top scorers Miedema and England put them clearly ahead of their peers in the first phase. 

Miedema then carried her slight lead over England into the second stage so that the women’s award was decided by just a single vote (12-11) for a second successive year. 

Chelsea’s Norwegian creative talent Guro Reiten and Lyon’s England full-back Lucy Bronze were joint-third, just ahead of Manchester City and England’s FIFA Women’s World Cup 2019 Bronze Boot winner Ellen White.

Other players acknowledged in the voting by the panel were Steph Houghton and Lauren Hemp (both Manchester City), Erin Cuthbert and Sophie Ingle (both Chelsea), Rachel Furness (Spurs/Liverpool), Beth Mead (Arsenal), Lauren James (Manchester United), and Chloe Kelly (Everton).