I don't think there is a football fan anywhere who didn't have respect for Sir Bobby Robson. The man always had time for football fans: regardless of which team they supported, he would chat to them, sign autographs and treat them like an equal.
The same respect was afforded to his opposing managers and players: win, lose or draw, he was always acted in a gentlemanly sporting manner. Who else would have been big-hearted enough to praise Diego Maradona for the genius of the solo second goal he scored that fateful day at Mexico 86, or bear the desperate disappointment of semi-final defeat four years later at Italia 90 with a mere shrug of the shoulders? The man was a statesman of sportsmanship.
In essence, Sir Bobby was the carrying stream of knowledge for many of his fellow managers. He didn't keep his tactical acumen to himself: he was always willing to help younger, less experienced managers with advice if they asked for it, and was quick to send a message of encouragement to a fellow manager before a big game. That is what marks Sir Bobby out as the truly remarkable human being he was. His pleasure in life was to see football played in an entertaining fashion: his enthusiasm for the beautiful game was given body with every breath he took. It is sad to think we shall never again see that sparkle that came in his eyes whenever he talked about his experiences and views about the game.
To his nearest and dearest, I send my heartfelt condolences at this difficult time for them. Rest in peace, Geordie lad! You will never be forgotten by your football family!
