Death - Nobby Stiles (19th May 1942 to 30th October 2020)

Not many legends are short, missing some teeth, prematurely balding and short-sighted but Nobby was (real name Norbert Peter Stiles.) He was the pulsing heartbeat of Sir Matt Busby’s side for over a decade, playing nearly 400 games, winning the league title twice and playing for England in their victorious 1966 World Cup Final. Here I am at Manchester's main crematorium where the 78-year-old's journey ended.

It was a puttering start: born in the cellar at home in rough Collyhurst during an air raid in World War Two. In his autobiography he wrote that he had been born “a half-blind dwarf who was bombed by the Germans and run over by a trolley bus when he was one”. His dad was an undertaker in a bedraggled area of Manchester. He lived surrounded by corn mills, brick-making works, dye factories and rope factories. One escape was football and he was such a prodigious all-rounder that he joined Man United aged 17 and remained there for eleven years.

He played for England twenty-eight times over five years and was in that winning team in 1966. He wasn’t a goal-scorer but a tenacious midfielder who set up goal-scoring chances. He was known for being a tough tackler, magically stealing the ball from seasoned dribblers and distributing it up the field for scorers. After playing for the Red Devils nearly four hundred time he had short spells with Middlesbrough and Preston North End. Football wasn't the money printing-press it is now and top players weren't millionaires from a month's wages. Sadly Nobby sold his medals and football memorabilia to raise money for his family. An auction in 2010 raised £425,000, with Man-U paying a total of £209,000 for his World Cup and European Cup winner's medals.

Away from the field he was a family-orientated unassuming normal man. Aged 21 he married Kay Giles and they had three children. He was a staunch Catholic (and tried to attend mass on the day of the world cup final.) Aged 71 it was announced he'd been diagnosed with prostate cancer and three years later it was announced he was suffering from advanced dementia. He was so ill he couldn’t attend a celebration dinner to mark the 50th anniversary of England's 1966 World Cup win. Nearing the end of his live he no longer recognised his own family. Did years of heading hard leather footballs herald the fog of dementia?

Anyway, here I am where the final journey ended. The funeral cortege passed Old Trafford Football Club (Nobby lived nearby in Stretford) and ended here where I’m stood at Manchester's main crematorium in Chorlton-cum-Hardy. I was a little surprised by this. Being a Catholic I thought he may have been buried (his old manager Matt Busby’s grave is a short walk away in the adjacent cemetery.) Limited numbers of people were allowed inside for the service due to Covid. Another one gone I thought as I strolled around the memorial bit round the back of the place. I’m not interested in football but even I knew who the short, gummy, balding legend was. I did a salute for the modest lad and left. Bye Nobby.