Ray Wilkins - another English Rolls Royce dies at 61.

Ray Wilkins - another English Rolls Royce dies at 61.

Today the world of football once again bowed its head respectfully and inhaled a sharp intake of breath. A dark pall of mourning and loss hung over English football as another of its own died. Recently, the deaths of England legends Jimmy Armfield and Cyrille Regis deprived football of two of its most devoted professionals, players of style and stature, wisdom and shrewdness, players who were never afraid to express an enduring love of the game without ever resorting to underhand measures.

Now Ray Wilkins, one of Chelsea's finest and most refined of England midfield players has died at the age of 61, horrendously early for one of football's most technical craftsmen, a player of vision, intuition, smoothness, uncanny awareness, a footballer with a magnificent sense of timing, a delectable passing range both long and short, and a perfect command of the game's finer nuances.

Wilkins had an almost geographical knowledge of any football pitch, a sixth sense of where his colleagues were and the supporting runs they were about to make. But today football lost one of its most accomplished artists, a playmaker in every sense of the term in an age when football's grafters, toilers, engine room stokers and, frequently, cloggers ruled the 1970s football empire.

When Wilkins pulled on a blue Chelsea shirt as a wet behind the ears apprentice and wonderfully ambitious youngster, the old First Division was still populated by genuinely colourful and charismatic characters such as Billy Bremner, Norman Hunter, Tommy Smith, Eddie Kelly and Peter Storey. It was a footballing landscape littered with flinty, niggly, nuggety, hard as nails footballers whose only assignment on match day would surely have been the complete humiliation of their opponents.

But then there was Ray Wilkins, smooth as silk, a player with a gossamer touch, gliding gracefully across a Stamford Bridge pitch that bore an obvious resemblance to a local allotment site during the early part of the 1970s. Wilkins though was modestly majestic, quietly influential at first but when given the licence to roam further forward to attack opponents, hard, gritty and often abrasive.

Still there remains in the mind a lingering impression of grace under pressure, of all embracing authority, responsible decision making, immaculate precision in his choice of passes and often scorer of the important goal on important occasions. Wilkins once lobbed a ball over a Belgium keeper for England's equaliser in the 1980 European Championship, a model of arrogance and characteristic subtlety.

So stylish and imposing had Wilkins become that once established at Chelsea, it wasn't long before he was attracting the attention of so called bigger clubs. When Ron Atkinson, Manchester United's flamboyant manager began to hunt around for a player with genuine leadership skills, Wilkins was like putty in his hands. Atkinson was now totally besotted and smitten by a player who would take complete charge of a Manchester United team who were not quite where they would have liked to have been at the time.

For a number of seasons Wilkins settled into his new home at Old Trafford with the likes of Norman Whiteside, Arthur Albiston, Frank Stapleton, Kevin Moran and Bryan Robson, another England captain and affectionately referred to as 'Captain Marvel'. Then there was the beautifully balanced Dutchman Arnold Muhren, a player with whom Wilkins must have formed an instant relationship with and somebody he must have felt a kindred spirit with. Muhren floated and Wilkins swaggered. Both had much in common with each other.

In the 1983 FA Cup Final Wilkins scored one of the Cup Final's most memorable of goals. Picking up the ball on the edge of the Brighton penalty area, Wilkins curled the most delicious of shots past the Brighton keeper. United won the Cup Final replay against Brighton and Wilkins had made that first clear statement of his intentions.

Inevitably England manager of the time Ron Greenwood found it impossible to resist Wilkins world class credentials. It was somehow ironic that English football was almost abundantly spoilt for players with creative gifts and overflowing talents on the ball. There was Tony Currie, Trevor Brooking, Alan Hudson, Stan Bowles and of course Wilkins himself. Both Currie and Brooking completely dictated the tempo of a game rather like a metronome swinging from side to side, full of accurate measurements rather than hit and hope percentages. Wilkins fitted in almost immediately  winning a richly deserved haul of FA Cup medals and highly decorated England displays.

Wilkins one blot on an otherwise flawless and unblemished international career was a group game in the 1986 Mexico World Cup against Morocco. After a frustrating opening half hour of England's match against Morocco Wilkins, inexplicably, threw the ball angrily at the referee in what seemed like a childish tantrum. Wilkins was promptly sent off and on a hot day in Central America, he slowly trooped off the pitch, sweat pouring from a troubled forehead and a mounting air of injustice building in his mind.

When Wilkins retired the temptations of management began to beckon and his first love Chelsea must have been calling. But after Chelsea came a surprisingly unexpected interest from Glasgow Rangers and a short but distinguished spell at Rangers did reap a moderate degree of success. Then Italian football left the most enticing of carrots dangling in front of him. The red and black stripes of the legendary AC Milan were determined to get their man and Wilkins needed no further persuasion. For many years Italian football had become trapped in a defensive hole of their own making and here was an English midfield pass master intent on releasing and liberating them.

And so it was that Wilkins returned to England where Queens Park Rangers made no secret of their admiration of a player who could certainly play and do so with a splendid nobility. Even now in his 30s Wilkins was still spraying his passes around Loftus Road like a gushing garden hose. The ability to control a game, organise and orchestrate his midfield colleagues was something that could never be underestimated because his influence on a game was still as priceless as ever. He was the ticking clock of a game, the inner component and mechanism who made QPR a side to be respected.

After varying spells as assistant coach to Carlo Ancelotti at Chelsea and the briefest of spells at Aston Villa Wilkins seemed to get lost in something of a soul destroying hinterland where the modern managers of today's generation felt that a once great player like Wilkins was somehow surplus to requirements and no longer the man to guide once celebrated clubs back to their former glories.

So it is that we today lament the loss of Ray Wilkins. Sadly there are very few midfield players nowadays who could unlock defences with the most perfectly weighted of passes, pointing his fingers at players who needed perhaps the slightest encouragement followed by a gentle coaxing and cajoling in the right direction. Both Chelsea, Manchester United, Rangers and AC Milan have lost a shining light and inspiration to both young and old players alike. 'Butch' Wilkins always seemed to have time for everybody and football will be much the poorer for Wilkins passing. A man with indeed, a touch of class.