Jimmy Greaves- a goal scoring legend passes

 Jimmy Greaves- a goal scoring legend passes.

Jimmy Greaves was a natural goal scorer, a man who was obsessed with goals, making them, taking them, always instrumental in every Spurs attack in his pomp, a gifted joker and humorist, a classy raconteur, an articulate spokesman on the subject of everything connected with the game and never daunted by the seemingly impossible. Greaves always saw the lighter side of life and always demanded more of himself. 

Yesterday Jimmy Greaves died at 81 after a series of crippling strokes and then a tragic confinement to a wheelchair for many years. It was the saddest of days for the centre forward's fraternity, a society that never closes ranks when the going gets too tough. But then you remembered those salad days when the goals were flowing for Greaves and everything he touched turned to gold. For those whose memories are now only distant black and white ones, the name of Jimmy Greaves may sound like some household name we'd been told about throughout our teenage years but there can be little doubt that the man was a legend. 

Greaves, who served his very young apprenticeship at Chelsea when the larger than life Tommy Docherty was manager at Stamford Bridge, was one of football's genuine characters, extrovert, sociable, gregarious, always chatty and amusingly gossipy at times. From the moment he started pulling on those first mud-caked boots and donned the Chelsea kit for the first time, Greaves made an immediate impact and it was clear that here was an outstanding talent, a man with a most effective footballing compass and an unrivalled knowledge of where the goal was. 

The East End of London born Greaves, who may have been headhunted constantly by the claret and blue of West Ham, was regrettably overlooked by the team from Upton Park and Spurs got in there first. Greaves then became one of the increasing number of English footballers tempted by the persuasive tongues of Italian Serie A giants AC Milan. It was a method of seduction that seemed a good idea at the time but then fell by the wayside when Greaves just couldn't adapt quickly enough to an entirely different footballing culture. Greaves came running back to London and fell helplessly into the arms of Tottenham.

Now began one of the most successful periods of his blossoming career. Spurs fans fell deeply in love with Greaves goal poaching prowess and once he'd got going, he would never look back. He was fast, pacy, uncontrollable, dashing, darting, dribbling with devastating speed, riding through helpless and flailing defenders feet with effortless ease and scoring goals by the bucket load. Greaves had the dexterity of the artist's palette, dabbing all of the primary colours on to the canvas and then creating awe inspiring landscapes.

In one unforgettable old First Division match when Spurs were up against Manchester United, Greaves scored perhaps one of the greatest goals that any of us had ever seen up until then. Drifting beautifully into the centre circle at White Hart Lane, Greaves rapidly went through the proverbial gears before gliding into space with the kind of explosive acceleration that perhaps the Spurs supporters had come to expect. He then breezed past almost the entire United team like a cheetah on the savanna, fluidly slaloming his way towards goal and just ignoring the red United shirts as if they were simply invisible. 

On and on he went before meeting the eagle eyes of Manchester United goalkeeper Alex Stepney and then simply rounding Stepney and just jabbing the ball gently into the net as if he'd done the same thing a million times in training. Spurs went on to thrash United 5-1 and Spurs could hardly believe they'd discovered a goal scoring genius. 

Greaves would continue to bulge opposition's nets with a stunning frequency, hundreds upon hundreds of goals from all angles and positions. For years all seemed swimmingly well with Spurs landing the FA Cup in 1967 at the expense of Chelsea and then the inevitable call up by England manager Sir Alf Ramsey. There followed a very compatible relationship and Greaves would become one of England's leading goal scorers of all time. A year before winning the FA Cup for Spurs though Greaves would experience one of the most anguished and harrowing disappointments of his entire career. 

With the 1966 World Cup to be held in England for the first and, sadly, the only time thus far, Greaves was thrust into prominence and the headlining back pages. He'd scored goals for fun for England and now the Spurs striker had designs on fame and immortality. When the England team gathered together for the regulation pep talk at Hendon Hall hotel, there was a sense that this could be Greaves time. 

England began the 1966 World Cup with a flat and lifeless goal-less draw against Uruguay before France and Mexico followed. Greaves was still in contention but then picked up a niggling injury after the France game. Sir Alf Ramsey, alarmed at this sudden setback, erred on the side of caution and dropped Greaves for the rest of the tournament. Rejection can be very hard on any player when things seemed to be working perfectly but Greaves was out of the 1966 World Cup. Greaves was inconsolable. 

After the referee blew the final whistle to signify wild World Cup winning celebrations, Bobby Moore hugged Martin Peters, Jack Charlton gave his brother Bobby the biggest of bear hugs and Alan Ball kept looking around him as if he'd just won the Lottery over and over again, smiling but exhausted. Sir Geoff Hurst threw his hands up into the air delightedly, Gordon Banks saw Nobby Stiles and the feelings of elated bewilderment could be clearly etched on their faces. For both players, time quite literally stood still. 

But there was one important component missing and he was now an emotional wreck. The conflicting feelings were playing havoc with Jimmy Greaves. Greaves, complete in elegant shirt, suit and tie on England's sidelines, must have wondered whether there had been a conspiracy against him. He'd scored all of the significant goals that had preceded the World Cup in England years before the tournament. Admittedly they were friendlies since England were the hosts but Greaves just blasted his opponents into submission with fiercely driven shots from long and short distances and diving headers that were powered into the back of the net with unflinching accuracy. 

Now though Greaves had been condemned to the dark shadows, a forgotten figure, wrapping his arms around his colleagues in obvious congratulation. The World Cup had been won but Greaves felt completely overlooked. There was an awful scowl on his face, a sullen air of neglect and the immediate realisation that Geoff Hurst had scored a hat-trick rather than him. Why couldn't it have been him rather than his international team mate? 

Once Greaves reached the twilight of his career, disappointment and a personal struggle with alcoholism would rip to shreds any lingering hopes of a comeback. For years the demon drink and the consolatory bottle of booze would dominate his every waking hour. Thankfully Greaves handled his drink problem with an admirable determination that would leave most of his close family and friends drooling admiringly. 

Then after the drink had been ditched and a package business project had brought him more than adequate financial reward, Greaves found himself still wanted and loved by the public. The world of commercial TV would become an enticing and mouth watering one. When Greaves met his fellow professional and playing contemporary Ian St John who had given Liverpool such sterling service, the two became the best friends for life and almost inseparable. Saint and Greavesie would become a TV sporting brothers without any blood relation to each other at all. 

Greaves would be the comical leg puller extraordinaire, having a joke for every occasion and was a hilarious football and topical gag meister who refused to be associated with some of football's darker arts. Occasionally there were the fruity innuendos, the scathing throw away lines and then withering attacks on the FA. Greavesie was TV magic, always humorous and occasionally serious but never short of a pithy comment or two.

And finally there were the last years of illness and infirmity, old age now his most threatening enemy rather than being pleasantly accompanied by the memory of good times. Greaves life had now reached its final chapters. The strokes had broken him and the mischievous glint in his eye had gone. After his old playing chum Ian St John had died shortly before him, our Jimmy must have thought the after dinner circuit had picked up its napkin, cutlery and crockery and left him behind. The curtain had gone up on Jimmy Greaves. 

So it is that we pay a fond farewell to one of English football's finest, the World Cup hero who could have achieved so much more and a striker nonpareil. Jimmy Greaves has now gone to football heaven and there can only be the special memories, the goals galore, the adoring fans and those at the new Tottenham Hotspur stadium who must have been desperate for a reminder of the 1960s vintage that just kept maturing. Jimmy, we do miss you.