Very sad 1st post Mick, but thanks for taking the time to share your memories on here.Looking back to the 1950's growing up in Manchester it's amazing that all my recollections are in black and white. All except two. There was the royal blue blazer of St Malachy's Primary School and the vivid red of the Manchester United shirt. Give me a child by the age of seven so the saying goes ... I was then and always have been a 'Red'.
Life seemed mundane by today’s standards. School, mates and football - though not always in that order!
I heard the news of the Munich air crash on the 6th February, from my Dad who came home from work having been in the pub at lunchtime. My mother cursed him and called him a liar. Then it came via the big box in the corner that was the radio. I cried and cried, inconsolable. At the aged of nine my world had been torn to bits.
The next day I went to school, United rosette pinned to that royal blue blazer with black ribbon as a mark of respect. The sense of grief that was all around was tangible even to an unsophisticated kid. Something life altering had happened to me. Only as the detailed news unfolded was it clear that there might just be some light. My own personal hero had been saved. Duncan Edwards was ill but he was alive. I prayed he would would be safe. I spent every minute playing, being Duncan, beating more players than ever, shooting harder and tackling stronger. I played to bring him back to strength. Duncan played like an immortal. He would be back in that number 6!
The vanity of youth.
Duncan Edwards died on the 21st February 1958 aged 21 and life was never the same for me.
I will always see February 1958 in black and white.