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PIC BY GED “Manchester United is my team, but Denis Law was my hero.” I loved hearing older Reds rejoice at the altar of King Denis, about their hero, the one who stood ahead of the others, but now where there was always a twinkle in the eye, there are pangs of sadness and tears that well. Manchester Mark, was just one of many Reds whose love for the Lawman was so deep it was almost as entwined with their support of the club during that era; he was ‘their one’. That true love we all have that lasts forever. Whilst time ages us and them, the connection never wilts.“Who’s our King!” was a categoric answer not a question. Certain noises emanating from bars your ears would adjust to. Not so long ago, before those aches became pains became the relentless march of ageing and time, you’d be lucky enough on say a euro away in the 90s or 00s and us (then) young ‘uns sang about our own King, Eric, as another corner would be filled with raucous joy about their King, a man so good, so idolised, he was blessed with more songs than probably any other Utd player. Jokes about whose King trumped whose. Smiles. Laughter. STREETARTTRIBUTETAKENBY OUTANDABOUTADVENTURES Luckier still if you clinked a glass and got to sit down with Reds from Salford or Stretford and listened, actually listened, to their reverence towards someone they carried their adoration until the end; like the ‘63 goal, not least how vital it was for Utd, that goal that gave that Manchester United a lift as important as Lee Martin’s did. No modern day anger about his move to city, or that goal that didn’t actually send us down, how could anyone get angry at Denis, bar a defender that is. His whole persona was an antithesis to gloom, or jealousy, it was entwined with joy, the only anger would occasionally come from his own red mists, especially around New Year time; nudge, nudge. One of many jokes. I think of so many older Red mates, some no longer with us, who absolutely adored the grass Law glided on. Of course Best was hero worshipped, he had the gifts, Bobby Charlton respected, but Law was the Lawman; he had that extra bite that sort of embraced and summed up his era that now blossomed. From the grey of the 50s, came this panache, the hair, the individuality away from conformity, he epitomised the swing towards the 60s and colour, a new style and living life rather than surviving it. Law came along at the perfect moment, and just when the emerging Red Army was ready for him. What Richard Williams in the Guardian described as: “He drew the attention even when apparently doing nothing more than hanging around in the opposition’s half, his jersey untucked - the sign, back then, of a rebellious spirit - and the cuffs on the long sleeves of his jersey bunched in each hand. On another player, the effect might have been one of scruffiness. Not on Law. He was no urchin. Out there on the pitch, he was the epitome of a different and very personal kind of elegance.” PAGE 4
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Denis; the goals, the joy, the fire and that rare instant, lasting connection between player and fan wanting to be and emulate him; in look, style, manner, those rare players like Law is why we do all this. Bobby Charlton was Mr Manchester United but I’d suggest Denis Law was its fans as he, the team, terraces and club, and its football and the Sixties itself swung that little bit more with Denis around. Arm up, smile, cheek, transfixed crowd in awe. Red Army emerging. Bang. Get in. No goal hanger either, he arrived a striver and became a striker is how Mark put it to me. But scoring so called easy goals is not, or was not then, something to dismiss, and youtube, though sadly like the other two from the Trinity, has most but not all of the moments, shows along with the close range efforts there were glides, shimmies, grace and great goals as well. I don’t want to pass more than a glance at ‘74 (of which he would say: “I have seldom felt so depressed in my life as I did that weekend”, and said straight after the game: “No, let’s get it right. They didn’t go down because they got beat by city, because Birmingham beat Norwich so don’t give me that. I never put them down.”) - it didn't define anything, it didn’t relegate us but it clearly haunted Denis for longer than deserved. “I was inconsolable. I didn’t want it to happen. How long did the feeling last? How long ago was the game? Fortyodd years. There is your answer. The subject always crops up. It’s one of those things. It’s always there and I am always remembered for it. That’s a shame.” Especially as United, if not wanting it, flourished from it, and when this mag (Tony Smith conducted an excellent interview we have snippets from later) got his time, Law was grateful we didn’t join the queue in asking about something he’d tried to forget. Those random, timeless, bars lit up with songs about Law; the tales, the sheer delight as ageing limbs suddenly tried to recreate goals and celebrations from the past, as the denim had faded, the grey had arrived, but the scarves with his name shoved proudly in your faces. It’s why I don’t find it strange whatsoever to idolise him from a distance. I mean if I love authors I’ll never meet, etc, heralding our first King just seemed so bloody natural even if I wasn’t lucky enough to have seem him play. Like with any career well lived there were the dips, he laid out his “unforgivable’ view of The Doc in his book in 1979 about his badly handled departure (and which Morgan’s court case had initially detailed) for what Tommy “had done to his family” by suddenly telling him in April 1973 he was to be given a ‘free transfer’ despite earlier promises of a coaching role with his wife five months pregnant, which would lead to the transfer to city, a conversation and decision that was set to be revealed to the public after his testimonial the following season - instead the Doc an- nounced it that very weekend that Law and Dunne were off, without Law knowing, or in Manchester. “Docherty had given me his word, he did what he did without warning.” He was also transfer listed in April 1970, which lingered during the early days of Wilf and then just got forgotten about by both sides! A footballer epitomising the 60s wasn’t actually a 60s man, despite the cigs, the liking of red wine and great pals with Best, Law himself was a family man, first and last. “When you come home to a load of nappies hanging on the line, it brings you back down to earth a wee bit. George inhabited a different world from me in the Swinging Sixties. Don’t forget it was only 20 years or so after the War and suddenly we had Sergeant Pepper, Carnaby Street, long hair, pink shirts, white flares. Almost overnight, football became an entertainment and footballers began mixing with film stars and rock singers like John Lennon and Mick Jagger. And I have to say no one threw himself into this new world with more enthusiasm than George. I tell my grandchildren that Sixties music was the best period ever.” The photos of Law leaving Best’s hospital in his final hours, still makes me so upset. Pals ‘til the end. And in 1966 just before the World Cup Finals, Busby put Law on the transfer list after he’d asked for better wages. “I don’t believe that Matt ever wanted me to leave, but he had to show that the club is bigger than the individual.” Both compromised, Law admitting: “I was only trying him on!”. Of course, as is now legend, Law chose to play golf, his second sporting love, as England conquered the world at Wembley: “So that I would not have to watch it!” He lost at golf, and returned to the clubhouse: “I was playing golf in Manchester. And unlike Manchester it was raining. And the guy I was playing with was awful. And he beat me! As I turned the corner at the course, they were all at the window and of course, England had won 4-2. I thought it was the end of the world. It was the blackest day of my life.” And, of course, he would miss out on United’s own triumph at Wembley two years later to suggest it was not always a film script career of highs. For a year he’d struggled with his right knee, and felt the club weren’t taking it seriously enough. By January ‘68 it was finally confirmed that a piece of cartilage was left flying around from an operation at Huddersfield nine years earlier - incredible what he had achieved carrying it in that time. His surgeon was amazed he’d been able to play on for the previous two years. He battled on, but though intending to play in the Semi Final against Madrid, he knew he wasn’t fit enough and it would hamper his teammates. He finally had the operation three days before the European Cup Final. The cartilage causing him such pain, was found to be an inch long. “Missing the Final was obviously one of the greatest disappointments of my career, but at least it was PAGE 5

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PIC BY GED

“Manchester United is my team, but Denis Law was my hero.”

I loved hearing older Reds rejoice at the altar of King Denis, about their hero, the one who stood ahead of the others, but now where there was always a twinkle in the eye, there are pangs of sadness and tears that well. Manchester Mark, was just one of many Reds whose love for the Lawman was so deep it was almost as entwined with their support of the club during that era; he was ‘their one’. That true love we all have that lasts forever. Whilst time ages us and them, the connection never wilts.“Who’s our King!” was a categoric answer not a question.

Certain noises emanating from bars your ears would adjust to. Not so long ago, before those aches became pains became the relentless march of ageing and time, you’d be lucky enough on say a euro away in the 90s or 00s and us (then) young ‘uns sang about our own King, Eric, as another corner would be filled with raucous joy about their King, a man so good, so idolised, he was blessed with more songs than probably any other Utd player. Jokes about whose King trumped whose. Smiles. Laughter.

STREETARTTRIBUTETAKENBY OUTANDABOUTADVENTURES

Luckier still if you clinked a glass and got to sit down with Reds from Salford or Stretford and listened, actually listened, to their reverence towards someone they carried their adoration until the end; like the ‘63 goal, not least how vital it was for Utd, that goal that gave that Manchester United a lift as important as Lee Martin’s did. No modern day anger about his move to city, or that goal that didn’t actually send us down, how could anyone get angry at Denis, bar a defender that is. His whole persona was an antithesis to gloom, or jealousy, it was entwined with joy, the only anger would occasionally come from his own red mists, especially around New Year time; nudge, nudge. One of many jokes.

I think of so many older Red mates, some no longer with us, who absolutely adored the grass Law glided on. Of course Best was hero worshipped, he had the gifts, Bobby Charlton respected, but Law was the Lawman; he had that extra bite that sort of embraced and summed up his era that now blossomed. From the grey of the 50s, came this panache, the hair, the individuality away from conformity, he epitomised the swing towards the 60s and colour, a new style and living life rather than surviving it. Law came along at the perfect moment, and just when the emerging Red Army was ready for him.

What Richard Williams in the Guardian described as: “He drew the attention even when apparently doing nothing more than hanging around in the opposition’s half, his jersey untucked - the sign, back then, of a rebellious spirit - and the cuffs on the long sleeves of his jersey bunched in each hand. On another player, the effect might have been one of scruffiness. Not on Law. He was no urchin. Out there on the pitch, he was the epitome of a different and very personal kind of elegance.”

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