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Sir Fred
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Re: George Best

Fri Jan 11, 2008 7:54 am

i wish i could have seen him play live, it would have been magical, i have only seen a couple of videos on youtube and a special on world game when he died, it was absolutely brilliant



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Re: George Best

Sat Jan 12, 2008 1:42 pm

Fun reading Condor!!


The Boss

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liz jomaa
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Re: George Best

Sun Jan 13, 2008 12:41 am

heres a very nice tribute to george

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http://youtube.com/watch?v=Y3i9O7uqGJ8#



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yusongo
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Re: George Best

Thu Mar 13, 2008 5:26 am

I just watched that tribute Liz, what a showman. He stopped the ball dead and had time enough to take off his boot before the defender caught up to him. He chipped the ball with barely a glance at the goal whilst outside the box and got it over the keeper. Was that Sir Matt hugging Georgie at the end of the tribute? I got goosebumps watching it. The ball never left his feet.



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Akhil Rane
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Re: George Best

Sat Mar 15, 2008 6:06 pm

Code: Select all

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V5QqL-ljMoo&feature=related
This is a compilation of some of George Best goals.


Tom Williams, approaching Bill Shankly to be Liverpool manager: "How would you like to be manager of the best club in the country?"
Shankly: "Why? Is Matt Busby packing it in?"

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Re: George Best

Sun Mar 16, 2008 11:51 am

I can recommend the DVD Best-Maverick-Legend

Top class film, also if you can try and get the book "Best" The one written in the late 1970s with Michael Parkinson, not a lot of football in there, but it gives a lot of insight into what life was like for him

There is one part about how he used to get letters from parents with very ill children, they wanted George to go to the hospital and lay his hands on them and make them well, , ...... as Parkinson says, that sort of thing is enough to drive anyone over the edge



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yusongo
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Re: George Best

Mon Mar 17, 2008 5:05 am

Cheers mate (Y) I'll have a look around for that one.



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Re: George Best

Wed Mar 19, 2008 1:06 pm

This was a piece that I wrote for a fanzine for the first anniversary of George's passing.

The Best Years Of My Life


Since George’s passing in late November 2005, I have been asked so many times by people who never ever had the privilege of seeing him play, whether or not all the stories that abound about his skill are true, or if they are just some exaggeration. It is so difficult explaining to them how brilliant George was. It is also nigh on impossible to convince young people today who only saw pictures of George in his later years, that not only was he a footballer extraordinaire, but also a man of such glamour that he would never have looked out of place on a Hollywood film set!

Football has always had it stars in the game, even long before George arrived in this world. However I think that it is true to say that George was the very first of the soccer ‘superstars’. The first time that I ever saw him though, you would have thought that he would never ever reach anything akin to that kind of status. In late 1962 I was a young trialist with Preston North End Football Club, and on a cold, miserable winter Saturday morning, I had been selected to play in goal for the North End ‘B’ team, against Manchester United. Home games for the North End juniors were played on pitches situated on the old pig farm at Fulwood, and the dressing rooms consisted of a couple of wooden huts that housed a couple of rooms for changing in, then along the corridor, a few rooms with ceramic baths inside – no shower facilities back then! Being a staunch United supporter, it was enough for me that I was turning out against United’s youngsters, and my nerves were on edge as I made my way from the dressing room and out onto that windswept pitch. The pitch had been rolled flat but was really only on nodding acquaintances with grass at that time of the year and after 5 minutes of play, it became a mud patch. In those days, there was little pre-match warm up and I took my place between the goalposts as our forwards fired in a number of the old leather footballs at me. As we lined up to kick off, I noticed this small, frail, waif of a boy, standing in the outside right position for United. He stood there waiting for the kick off, shivering in the chill wind, his hands gripping the white trim cuffs of his red shirt and it seemed as though he was in imminent danger of being blown away. For a boy of such frail build, it seemed that he had no right to be out there on that pitch, particularly as he faced some big lads in the North End defence who were not averse to being a little over physical. At that time I had no idea of this young boy’s name, but by the end of the match, after I had picked the ball out of the net six times, I made it my business to find out! Coming off the field I shook hands with United’s inside right, Barry Grayson, and asked him the name of the young boy who had just run our defenders ragged throughout that morning. It was to be the very first time that I had ever heard the name George Best.

Even today, I can still see him gliding over the surface of that mud heap that we played upon, the ball seemingly tied to his boot laces, and our big defenders struggling to get a tackle anywhere near to him. One or two tried to verbally intimidate him, but even at that tender age, he could look after himself and his temperament was unflappable. He had a huge appetite for the ball, and once he did have it, he hurt you. Little did I know that day that what I was witnessing and suffering, would also be witnessed and suffered by some of the best teams and defenders that the game of football has ever known!

My own aspirations to a career in League football came to an end at the close of that season when I was told that my trial period was unsuccessful; a huge disappointment for a young 18 years old boy. For young George Best though, the following season was his break through season into First Division football!

George made his debut against West Bromwich Albion at Old Trafford in September of 1963 some ten months or so after the game that I have mentioned. I was stood on the Stretford End that day and watched as he came out of the players tunnel and trotted towards what had now become the most vocal part of the ground. I had to smile as I listened to the fans stood around me, asking questions about this wee slip of a boy. Their fear was that he wasn’t physically strong enough to survive in the First Division. My own memories of that encounter at Fulwood were all too prevalent at that time, and I had no fears about him whatsoever! By half time those questioning fans had been given their answer! The rest is of course, history.

George did not arrive on this earth or at Old Trafford as the complete player. He made himself into the truly exceptional player that he was by working hard at his skills. He made himself into the two-footed player that he was by practicing to the point where he became uncertain as to which was his stronger foot - a lesson that I wish that some of today’s so called superstars would take heed of! It gave him all the options that he needed to beat an opponent on either side, and in and around the penalty box, where he was a deadly finisher with either of those feet. He just loved the feel of the ball, and once he had it, he didn’t give it away cheaply. George had that gift of exceptional speed off the mark, great stamina, wonderful balance, and the ability to stay on his feet and even ride the hardest of tackles. He had a huge great heart and appetite for the game, and he never ever shirked the challenge – in fact he relished it! He had an inherent self belief in his own ability and whatever that challenge, be it physical, mental or tactical, he met it head on. His control of the ball under the most violent of pressure was hypnotic and he was brave beyond belief.

He played the game in an era when forwards were not a protected species as they are today. The tackle from behind was very much a part of the game in his day. At that time, matches against teams like Arsenal, Chelsea, Liverpool, Leeds, and Manchester City, meant that forwards had the likes of Peter Storey, Ron Harris, Tommy Smith, Billy Bremner and Norman Hunter, and also Mike Doyle lying in wait and queuing up for them. There were also more defenders of that stature in the game at that time but they are too many to mention. They were a daunting prospect to have to face! A prospect that I think had some of today’s over paid, over pampered, and over rated players had to face, would see them suddenly affected by loose bowel syndrome and a withdrawal from the match!

I have so many memories of games that George played for Manchester United, and most fans would say that his finest performance was against Benfica in the Stadium of Light in Lisbon in 1966, during the European Cup Quarter Final second leg game. Leading 3-2 from the first leg at Old Trafford, Sir Matt had told the players before they went out for the game; “Play it tight for the first 20 minutes or so.” By the 20th minute of that game, George, by his superlative performance, had put the game beyond the Portugese team and United were 3-0 ahead! Coming in at half time, Sir Matt was heard to remark; “I see that you never listened to me!” It was after this game that George bought the famous sombrero and the pictures of him wearing it were flashed around the world – it was the birth of “El Beatle” and the start of his being a ‘superstar’ celebrity.

As I pick the back pocket of my memory however, my own view is that the finest performance of his career came at Windsor Park in Belfast wearing the green shirt of his beloved Northern Ireland against Scotland in 1967. On a quagmire of a pitch he tormented one of the best full backs British football has ever seen, and gave him the chasing of his life. Not only him, but also the whole of the Scottish team as well. That full back was none other than Tommy Gemmell of Celtic who less than six months earlier had become one of the famous “Lisbon Lions” for his part in Celtic becoming the first British Club to lift the European Cup. Best’s performance that afternoon was mesmeric and he destroyed a very good Scottish team who just six months earlier, had beaten England, the then World Champions at Wembley. If my memory serves me right, Northern Ireland won that game against Scotland 1-0 with George laying on the winning goal for David Clements.

There was so much written about George Best during his time on this earth. So called journalists who should have known better were always so quick to denigrate a man who, to those that really knew him, was a lovely, warm hearted, loving, generous, genuine human being. Of course, that side of George’s personality didn’t sell newsprint or make the kind of headlines that the media wanted. The real truth is that when you really got to know George, he was still unspoiled by all the fame and glory.

One of the better known and more capable journalists of the day, tells a story of just how unaffected the young George Best was in finding himself the very first British footballer to be treated like a showbiz pop star. The Brown Bull used to be a pub at the bottom end of Chapel Street in Salford, and during the ‘60’s was a favourite haunt of the United players after a game. After a certain European Cup tie played at Old Trafford, players and journalists had gathered in the said pub. Nobody had given much thought to dinner but, by the time that the after-hours session was in full swing, hunger was becoming a problem. At least that is until George went around taking fish and chip orders for everyone in the bar, after which he disappeared. Apparently, he returned some half-an-hour later, not merely with all the orders accurately filled, but also with plates, knives and forks for everybody. The waiter that night seemed less like a superstar than the appealing young boy who had worked small miracles with a tennis ball on the streets of the Cregagh housing estate in East Belfast. I could never envisage any of today’s highly paid players doing anything like this, be it for journalist or fan alike. Unlike George and his contemporaries, they have become far too distant and unapproachable.

George did have his problems in life, there is no denying that. He was a sick man and we all knew it. But as with the challenges he met on the football field, he also met the challenges of life head on – he didn’t hide, nor did he ever seek sympathy. There is no doubt that great sportsmen are immensely vulnerable when their gifts and the drama that they create begin to fade. They feel the rest of their lives may loom like a dreary anti climax. George was a very loving person. He loved his family, loved his wives and his son Calum, loved his country, loved people, loved the game of football and Manchester United, and had a huge love and zest for life. That he left this world too early is an understatement of huge proportions. The wonderful memories that he left us with are a legacy to the time when we were seeing the world’s most popular game played by a boy who was better than most that have ever played it throughout its long history. I just wish that today’s generation could have watched George play at least one game in the Premiership. On pitches that resemble a snooker table, with a ball so light, and forwards being protected as they are, I salivate at the thought of a young George running with the ball at today’s defences! I look back with great fondness on that Saturday morning late in 1962 at Fulwood, when I first saw him clutching the cuffs of his shirt whilst he awaited the kick off. I also feel privileged that I was around to watch him from the terraces throughout his career. The pleasure watching George play the game of football brought to countless millions of my generation can not be measured. The nostalgia floods back whenever I think of him, and the wondrous quality of nostalgia is that it is unchallengeable. Without doubt, the years in which I watched George Best play the game of football were the Best years of my life!

November 25th 2006, will celebrate the first anniversary of his passing. I will shed a tear, raise a glass, and remember a true son of Northern Ireland, and a true son of the Manchester United family. Sleep on in peace dear George.



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Re: George Best

Wed Mar 19, 2008 1:28 pm

Cheers for sharing that Tom.


Yet another brilliant piece!



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Re: George Best

Thu Mar 20, 2008 11:59 am

wow tom u've got me in tears and shivering......just like bestie at that fulwood pitch...brilliant read this and makes me so jealous of people like you who got to watch a genius first hand along with law, charlton, and duncan edwards and other before them...am glad i did catch the likes to cantona and ronaldo tho'...thank you tom...great read....


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liz jomaa
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Re: George Best

Thu Mar 20, 2008 7:15 pm

this is one of the first memories i have of george...i started taking note of him after this goal,even though i was still very young :P

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2HWUbFGHMU#



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Re: George Best

Fri Mar 21, 2008 2:14 am

One of my favourite stories was when he was around about 12-13 years of age playing for Cregah Boys club, one of the blokes told him he didn't use his left foot enough, so when he played his next game he wore a tennis shoe on his right foot and an ordinary football boot on his left (try it, you can't walk properly for a start, not in the boots they wore back then)

So during the game he only touched the ball with his left foot

He scored 12 goals in a 14-0 win

One foot!



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Re: George Best

Thu May 22, 2008 9:35 am

What a present for your birthday, eh George?! :D By Russian time the boys even won it on the very day and no doubt you'd have been about. ;)


"I might have said that, but on the whole I talk a lot of rubbish."--Eric Cantona

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Re: George Best

Fri Jun 06, 2008 6:14 pm

Looking at the Man without my rose tinted glasses

'Genius" is a term so chronically overused in conjunction with sport that it is in danger of being comprehensively devalued. It should be rationed scrupulously, reserved for the truly sublime rather than being squandered on the merely remarkable. However, there should be no hesitation in dusting down the "g" word for a rare fitting recipient, and such a man was George Best.

Look beyond the lurid, fast-living image and set aside, for a moment, the alcoholism that was destined to transform his life so tragically. Like Stanley Matthews before him, Best was the symbol of footballing excellence for a whole generation. There were other magnificent players, including Bobby Charlton and Denis Law at his own club, Manchester United; but the mercurial Irishman was on a pedestal of his own.

As Matt Busby, his Old Trafford mentor, put it: "George had more ways of beating a player than anyone I've ever seen. He was unique in his gifts." Unfortunately, he was singular, too, in that he was the first "pop star" footballer whose every off-field action was scrutinised by the media. Relevant advice was scant, there being no precedent to his situation, and eventually the ceaseless attention, in which he revelled at first but which he subsequently reviled, goaded him inexorably towards self-destruction.

Best was born in 1946, the first of six children of an iron-turner at the Harland and Wolff shipyard in Belfast. A Protestant, though not in the political sense, he was brought up on the Cregagh housing estate and was crazy for kicking a football from the age of nine months. Though his prodigious natural talent became evident early in his childhood, he was a skinny specimen, verging on the puny and embarrassed by his lack of stature, and his family considered him too small to tilt at a future in the professional game.

Nevertheless Best was fanatical about football and idolised the mid-1950s Wolverhampton Wanderers side, then the epitome of sporting glamour through their exploits in a series of Continental friendlies in the days before formal European competition. An intelligent boy, he passed the 11-plus examination only to find that his grammar school majored in rugby. His reaction - and how typical this would seem, later in life - was truancy, partly because he had been split from former friends and partly to play in soccer matches.

Soon he was transferred to a secondary modern which catered for his obsession and he progressed, though not enough to earn selection for Northern Ireland Schoolboys. However, Best's breathtaking ability was spotted by Bob Bishop, Manchester United's chief scout in Ulster, who rang Matt Busby and proclaimed: "I think I've found a genius."

Even then, the path to stardom was to be tortuous for the seemingly frail wisp of a 15-year-old who crossed the Irish Sea to Old Trafford in 1961. Having barely left his home city before, he travelled on an overnight ferry with the similarly unworldly Eric McMordie - later to enjoy success with Middlesbrough and Northern Ireland - and was distinctly underwhelmed by his reception in Manchester.

Little was done to welcome the painfully shy duo and they succumbed to homesickness, returning to Belfast and, in Best's case, to a likely future as a printer. Soon, though, he changed his mind and went back to Old Trafford where, before long, he was to stand the established order on its head in spectacular fashion.

He announced his limitless potential in training sessions, sparkling against star performers such as the goalkeeper and fellow Ulsterman Harry Gregg, whom Best duped too repeatedly for beginner's luck to have been a factor. Still only 17, he tasted senior action for the first time in September 1963 and by December he was a fixture in Busby's side, one of the final elements, and surely the most crucial, in the painstaking reconstruction process which had been under way since the Munich air disaster five years earlier.

Operating alongside fellow world-class forwards in Law and Charlton, Best was incandescent, a magical manipulator of a football and an entertainer supreme. Positioned nominally on the wing but roaming at will, he was capable of going past opponent after opponent, able and frequently eager to make brutal assailants look like clumsy buffoons, and he was as clinical a finisher as any in the land.

Much is made of his heavenly fusion of skill and speed, balance and timing, which made him sometimes virtually unplayable. In addition, though, Best was immensely brave and, in his early twenties, attained a resilient strength and an unshakeable self-belief which enabled him to laugh in the face of the vicious physical punishment to which he was routinely subjected. To enhance his worth still further, he was mentally acute, which allowed him to apply his instinctive flair to maximum advantage. In short, in a footballing sense he was flawless, possessing the assets to excel in any role.

True, there were times when team-mates would scream in exasperation when the Irishman, having dribbled past three defenders, would teeter on the verge of losing possession to a fourth. The chances were, though, that in the next breath they would be hailing a wonder goal, created from a seemingly impossible position.

Performing in this vein, Best contributed monumentally to League Championships in 1965 and 1967 and to the attainment of United's so-called holy grail, the European Cup, in 1968. Indeed it was, perhaps, during the exhilarating pursuit of that elusive prize that George Best the footballer made the quantum leap to Georgie Best the pop icon.

Early in 1966, the Red Devils had defeated mighty Benfica, the Portuguese champions, by three goals to two in the first leg of a European Cup quarter-final at Old Trafford. The second leg in Lisbon's Stadium of Light was a daunting prospect and Busby, with uncharacteristic caution, had urged his men to play it safe for the first 20 minutes.

Best had other ideas. Running at the Eagles' formidable rearguard with swashbuckling abandon, he scored two fabulous goals in the opening 12 minutes and inspired a scintillating 5-1 victory. His display was greeted rapturously but the impact was magnified still further when he donned a sombrero to descend from the plane's steps on his return to England. With his good looks, flowing locks and, now, his sense of the flamboyant away from the pitch, he was enshrined as "El Beatle".

Duly, his life took on a different dimension. Now he was public property as never before and he delighted in the advantages thus accrued. Commercial opportunities abounded, beautiful girls prostrated themselves before him and the attraction of alcohol became gradually more insistent. For a long time, though, despite dire warnings from Busby that he was going down the wrong road, that was not a problem to a young and exceptionally fit athlete.

Inklings that difficulties were brewing for Best surfaced after 1968, during which he was voted both English and European Footballer of the Year after contributing an opportunist goal to United's European Cup Final defeat of Benfica at Wembley. In the wake of that longed-for triumph, a perhaps understandable sense of complacency emanated from Old Trafford, where a 59-year-old manager with an ageing team might have been excused a little weariness after battling back from the horror of Munich.

Best, though, had a different agenda. He was still young and hungry for more honours, becoming increasingly frustrated at what he saw as lack of ambition around him. Not surprisingly, a gradual decline set in at the club, and the fact that it was largely masked by Best's individual splendour - he was top scorer in five successive campaigns from 1967-68 to 1971-72 and once netted six times in an FA Cup tie against Northampton Town - did little to placate United's principal asset.

Sadly, there was to be no consolation on the international front, where Best turned in occasional inspirational displays - notably in a stirring win over Scotland at Windsor Park, Belfast, in 1967 - but usually was hamstrung by the poor overall standard of the team. As a result, he would refer to his Northern Ireland efforts as "recreational football", a slight which reflected overweening gall at his unavoidable absence from the world's great tournaments rather than genuine malice.

Back in Manchester, his disillusionment was heightened when Busby refused to make him captain, citing his growing irresponsibility as the reason, and there followed a succession of disciplinary spats and absences without leave as Best turned ever more frequently towards the bottle. In addition, he fell out with Bobby Charlton, being sickened by what he perceived as the older man's holier-than-thou attitude over Best's playboy lifestyle. For his part, Charlton believed, with simple logic, that Best was letting the side down.

Meanwhile the Belfast boy's sexual conquests were spread regularly across the newspapers - he admitted that he saw most attractive women as a challenge - and his goldfish-bowl existence intensified when he moved into a custom-built, ultra-modern house in Sale which became a Mecca for rubberneckers.

After Busby's retirement, Best led his two successors as manager - first Wilf McGuinness and then Frank O'Farrell - a merry dance with his unscheduled absences, and by the spring of 1972 his situation was approaching crisis point. Though still playing superbly at times, and carrying an otherwise mediocre team, he could no longer shoulder the responsibility and his drinking spiralled dangerously out of control.

That May, unable to cope, he announced his retirement and decamped to Marbella, only to return for the start of the new season. But more strife was in store. By December he was transfer-listed after further indiscretions, only to be lured back by yet another new manager, Tommy Docherty. It was a dubious rapprochement which ended in acrimony when the team hit the skids, quickly followed by Best himself, who played his last game for relegation-doomed Manchester United as a distinctly portly 27-year-old, on New Year's Day 1974.

What followed was largely irrelevant to what made George Best special in the first place, his football career continuing for a further 10 years but playing second fiddle to drink, sex and gambling, and it constitutes a tale more edifying in summary than gruesome detail.

At various junctures he ran the Slack Alice night-club in Manchester and Bestie's Bar at Hermosa Beach, California. There was a spectacular fall-out with one Miss World, Marjorie Wallace, which resulted in Best's being charged with theft before being released without a stain on his character, and a fling with another holder of that title, Mary Stavin. There were marathon benders without number, and sundry brawls; a Christmas spent in prison for drink-driving; various hospitalisations for alcoholism; divorce from Angela Macdonald Janes, the long-suffering mother of his son, Calum; and admitted guilt over the emotional neglect of his mother, who died an alcoholic at the age of 54.

Post United, the pick of Best's footballing travels included three summers with Los Angeles Aztecs, during which he faced the likes of Pelé and Franz Beckenbauer and intermittently rediscovered the old flair, fitness and enthusiasm. Also there was an initially exhilarating but eventually unsatisfying brief stint with Second Division Fulham in harness with his fellow showman Rodney Marsh.

Then came turbulent sojourns with Fort Lauderdale Strikers and Hibernian, and fleeting service with San Jose Earthquakes, during which he contrived one goal of divine quality, which saw him mesmerise four defenders before beating the goalkeeper.

After his divorce from his first wife, there were long-term liaisons with the model Angie Lynn and with Mary Shatila, who also guided his business affairs as he earned a living through personal appearances. In 1995, still fighting alcoholism, he arranged to marry Alex Pursey, a Virgin flight attendant half his age, but failed to turn up for his own wedding because he had gone drinking with another girl. The ceremony took place a week later, but it didn't stop his drinking with other girls. They divorced after nine years.

Best continued to thrive as a professional celebrity, an after-dinner speaker and soccer pundit who was engagingly witty when sober, sometimes obnoxious when not. Despite that, despite everything, the game he illuminated so brilliantly remained his defining passion to the last.

"I didn't decide one day that I would drink myself to death," he announced after having a liver transplant in July 2002. "It is as a result of alcoholism. Alcoholism is a disease. It's the same with drugs. You don't decide suddenly, 'I'll be a drug addict.' " Best was addicted to alcohol - his continued drinking even after his transplant was to lose him much public sympathy - and he was addicted to women. But most of all he was addicted to football.

He leaves unanswerable questions behind him. How great might he have become but for the bottle? Had Matt Busby been younger, less scarred by past trauma, might he have imposed sufficient discipline to inspire the most naturally gifted player of modern times to scale even loftier peaks? At this distance, it doesn't matter. For seven or eight seasons George Best gave untold pleasure to countless fans all over the world, created so much that was beautiful and left a hoard of deathless memories. And that is enough!



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Re: George Best

Fri Jun 06, 2008 7:10 pm

Wonderful post (Y) (Y) (Y)


[center]In Love With Detail[/center]

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Re: George Best

Wed Jun 11, 2008 3:59 pm

i really wish i still lived in the same country as my uncle

he would spend hours at night tellling me stories about george

he cant even watch football anymore since the passing of best

it was george that got him into football, and the stuff he told me were truly stories of a legend

hes told me not to ever compare the latest number 7s to this great , because even if by some logic they are better footballers, none of them will give you magic the way george enlightened the fans

i think all of us who didnt have the chance to see him play are handicapped, yes we have a magical united squad now, but i believe we are all unlucky if we have not seen george


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Re: George Best

Sat Jun 21, 2008 11:11 pm

Anyone else watching George Best remembered on the History channel right now? :?:


"I might have said that, but on the whole I talk a lot of rubbish."--Eric Cantona

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Re: George Best

Sat Jun 21, 2008 11:30 pm

Wow this History Channel show on Bestie is awesome. Hearing Dickie Best and the Best siblings speaking about the man himself and how he changed their lives...Its incredible to think of how suddenly the kids life changed.

His Dad told the story of how after El Beatle mauled Benfica some guy ran up to him with a pair of scissors or a knife...wanting to cut a lock of Best's hair for posterity. Apparently George was shocked out of his skin. His sister talked about how she got shot with an air rifle in Ulster for being Best's sister and thinking 'she was someone' because of it. It really puts into perspective what superstardom meant back then before there were Galacticos to share the limelight with. Mad!


"I might have said that, but on the whole I talk a lot of rubbish."--Eric Cantona

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Re: George Best

Sat Jun 21, 2008 11:44 pm

This is really something. I never knew George's Mum was an alchoholic as well. His sister believes the two are linked. I just wonder how lonely Best really was inside?


"I might have said that, but on the whole I talk a lot of rubbish."--Eric Cantona

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Re: George Best

Sun Jun 22, 2008 12:28 am

If you haven't already, read his book mate, a very good one, I'm thinking of reading it again.


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Re: George Best

Sun Jun 22, 2008 4:27 am

#07 wrote:This is really something. I never knew George's Mum was an alchoholic as well. His sister believes the two are linked. I just wonder how lonely Best really was inside?
I would say immensely lonely. Those of us who saw him in his and Uniteds declining years were aware of how lonely and isolated he seemed to be - even in the middle of a packed stadium

That's one of the main symptoms,

The World Health Organization have said that evidence points to Alcoholism being hereditary in quite a few cases - if one of your parents was, you stand a greater chance of becoming one, and don't forget, in the days when George was born it's quite probable that his Mother drank during her pregnancy, nobody knew the risks back then



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Matt
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Re: George Best

Sun Jun 22, 2008 10:12 am

I think she became a proper alcaholic when Bestie's fame skyrocketed. Not saying she didn't drink as I'm not sure, but I'm sure that that's when she went to extremes.


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Re: George Best

Mon Jun 23, 2008 1:33 pm

Muziq wrote:I think she became a proper alcaholic when Bestie's fame skyrocketed. Not saying she didn't drink as I'm not sure, but I'm sure that that's when she went to extremes.
The figures point to Alcoholic behavior being evident long before the full symptoms and out of control drinking appear, and as for being a proper alcoholic, it's like being pregnant you are or you aren't - From what I read and George said her Father died from the disease as well, so Besties fame wouldn't have had anything to do with it



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Re: George Best

Mon Jun 23, 2008 7:09 pm

Not to start a topic on this I would like to go off topic one more time.

I know an addictive personality is usually genetic, so I understand your point on her Father. My point is fame couldn't have helped either one of George or his Mother.

I think the phrase "proper alcaholic" wasn't that good, my point being that symptoms are there for everyone to see.


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Re: George Best

Thu Jun 26, 2008 1:00 am

Simply the best:

Code: Select all

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=bSRqdEgkJbU


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