George Best RIP...

George Best has died.



As he is a man after my own heart – and a hero of mine, I thought that I’d record his passing with a few words, particularly as I feel that – but for a bit of self-control – I could go the same way.

Probably the greatest footballer that the UK has produced, he was a titan in his prime. A bigger (and sexier) celebrity than David Beckham (and with more skill in his little toe), he was called the greatest footballer in the world by none other than Pelé . His own comments about David Beckham were somewhat less generous, "He cannot kick with his left foot, he cannot head a ball, he cannot tackle and he doesn't score many goals. Apart from that he's alright." About Paul Gascoigne (another revered England player), he said, "I once said Gazza's IQ was less than his shirt number and he asked me: "What's an IQ?".

However, sadly, he proceeded to squander his prodigious talents by drinking and womanising. He knew that he was lost. He once said "In 1969 I gave up women and alcohol - it was the worst 20 minutes of my life." Tragically, his most famous quote was, “I spent a lot of money on booze, birds and fast cars - the rest I just squandered.”

He suffered from alcoholism. Having wrecked his own liver, he then set about destroying someone else's - the transplant that saved his life. It killed him.

The most famous story surrounding him was that he was holed up in a 5 star hotel. He ordered more champagne from room service. The waiter arrived to find George, sprawled on the bed with the then Miss World, the rather gorgeous Mary Stavin naked beside him. The bed was covered in ten pound notes (his winnings at a casino that evening) and empty champagne bottles were strewn around the room.

The waiter shook his head in disbelief, and said sadly, “George! Where did it all go wrong?”

These stories you may have heard. However, my own favourite story is unique and was from an Irish friend. He and some London-based Irish mates had invited a team of their friends over from Dublin for a “London Irish vs Irish Irish” football match. After the match, they were ensconced in a Chelsea pub, drinking up a storm. Seamus, my friend, then spots George Best drinking at the bar. Now Seamus can charm the birds from the trees, sell refrigerators to the Eskimos: he has the gift of the gab and has not so much kissed the Blarney Stone, as swallowed it whole.

He strolls over to George and starts. About how he is a boyhood hero, how he’d watched all his matches, how all his friends had been inspired to play football because of George’s success and how those very friends had come over from Ireland to play footy one last time before they were too old. “It would be a great honour to us all (and we’d be forever in your debt),” said Seamus, “if you would present this trophy to the winning side.”

George looked at him, smiled and said, “Fuck off.”

Enjoy…