CosmicHotspur
Better a wag than a WAG
- Aug 14, 2006
- 51,069
- 22,383
Great article by Jimmy Greaves about Gilly.
Why I've not seen my Spurs partner Alan Gilzean for 40 years!
Sep 19 2010 By Jimmy Greaves, The People
WE were like Laurel and Hardy, or Nelson and Hardy, some in north London might say.
Jimmy Greaves and Alan Gilzean, inseparable on the pitch and off it, too – usually in the Old Hall Tavern, Chingford.
There’s a new book about my former Tottenham strike partner out tomorrow. The author did well to track down Gilly, who has become something of a recluse in recent years.
Believe it or not, I haven’t set eyes on the fella for the best part of 40 years.
From 1964 until 1970, we were like blood brothers. Then I left Spurs and went on my path to self-destruction ... a couple of years later Gilly did pretty much the same, by all accounts.
He came from a place called Coupar Angus, somewhere in the back end of Scotland. As soon as he arrived I showed him all those new sights of London which would seem strange to him – electric lights, carpets, that kind of thing.
He never touched beer, though we called him Cuba Libre after his favourite drink. There was a story that Gilly used to go into his favourite restaurant, order his usual – and get presented with a bottle of Bacardi and four glasses of Coke.
The laughs I had with Gilly will always stay with me, just like some of the matches we played together will live long in the memories of Tottenham fans.
Gilly was possibly the best footballer I ever played with. That’s him and me above after we won the FA Cup at Wembley in 1967. And he was certainly the one who benefited me the most.
Right from the word go, we just had this incredible telepathy on a football pitch, like nothing I experienced before or since.
He was magnificent at holding the ball up and always a great header of it – all deft touches and genuine class.
Strike partnerships like ours are going out of fashion now, with clubs playing a lone front man.
It just so happened that we were great mates off the pitch as well, but that’s not always the case with some duos.
Andy Cole and Teddy Sheringham famously refused to talk to one another for years, yet won the treble with Manchester United. And in the 1960s, the Middlesbrough and England strikers Brian Clough and Alan Peacock were so competitive it bordered on hatred. But they scored 900 goals together (well, according to Cloughie anyway).
You might think it odd that me and Gilly have not seen each other for so long. Yet to me that’s life. You do a job of work with a person, you get on well, then one of you moves on and, more often than not, you lose touch.
I was doing a theatre show a while back in Weston-super-Mare when a local autograph collector told me that Alan Gilzean lived in the town and that he had met him.
It was as if someone had seen the Yeti!
But in all seriousness I totally respect Gilly’s decision to stay out of the limelight.
Our mutual Spurs mate Steve Perryman is the one football person who does see Gilly, so I know he is keeping well and that he is not reclusive for any other reason than he wants a quiet private life with no fuss.
He used to be an exceptional footballer but now he is just a regular member of the public. It’s like people criticising Nobby Stiles for becoming the latest 1966 hero to put his World Cup winner’s medal up for sale. Some seem to think it’s sacrilege. But if a wealthy Arab offered me a wad of cash for my medals, too bloody right I’d think about it!
None of us in the 1966 World Cup squad retired as genuinely wealthy men.
Of course, my work in the media has always kept me in touch with football, but I’ve never liked the idea of going back to White Hart Lane as a spectator.
It doesn’t feel right when you used to be the main man somewhere and now you know you just don’t belong.
I’m not comfortable with football clubs wheeling out us ex-players as some sort of exhibit, either. I know Gilly doesn’t want to meet up with me, nor any of his other old mates, and I totally understand his reasons.
I’d just urge you to read the book of his life, because I reckon it’s one hell of a story.
● In Search of Alan Gilzean by James Morgan is published tomorrrow, priced £9.99, from BackPage Press. Available from all good book shops and from www.backpagepress.co.uk
Why I've not seen my Spurs partner Alan Gilzean for 40 years!
Sep 19 2010 By Jimmy Greaves, The People
WE were like Laurel and Hardy, or Nelson and Hardy, some in north London might say.
Jimmy Greaves and Alan Gilzean, inseparable on the pitch and off it, too – usually in the Old Hall Tavern, Chingford.
There’s a new book about my former Tottenham strike partner out tomorrow. The author did well to track down Gilly, who has become something of a recluse in recent years.
Believe it or not, I haven’t set eyes on the fella for the best part of 40 years.
From 1964 until 1970, we were like blood brothers. Then I left Spurs and went on my path to self-destruction ... a couple of years later Gilly did pretty much the same, by all accounts.
He came from a place called Coupar Angus, somewhere in the back end of Scotland. As soon as he arrived I showed him all those new sights of London which would seem strange to him – electric lights, carpets, that kind of thing.
He never touched beer, though we called him Cuba Libre after his favourite drink. There was a story that Gilly used to go into his favourite restaurant, order his usual – and get presented with a bottle of Bacardi and four glasses of Coke.
The laughs I had with Gilly will always stay with me, just like some of the matches we played together will live long in the memories of Tottenham fans.
Gilly was possibly the best footballer I ever played with. That’s him and me above after we won the FA Cup at Wembley in 1967. And he was certainly the one who benefited me the most.
Right from the word go, we just had this incredible telepathy on a football pitch, like nothing I experienced before or since.
He was magnificent at holding the ball up and always a great header of it – all deft touches and genuine class.
Strike partnerships like ours are going out of fashion now, with clubs playing a lone front man.
It just so happened that we were great mates off the pitch as well, but that’s not always the case with some duos.
Andy Cole and Teddy Sheringham famously refused to talk to one another for years, yet won the treble with Manchester United. And in the 1960s, the Middlesbrough and England strikers Brian Clough and Alan Peacock were so competitive it bordered on hatred. But they scored 900 goals together (well, according to Cloughie anyway).
You might think it odd that me and Gilly have not seen each other for so long. Yet to me that’s life. You do a job of work with a person, you get on well, then one of you moves on and, more often than not, you lose touch.
I was doing a theatre show a while back in Weston-super-Mare when a local autograph collector told me that Alan Gilzean lived in the town and that he had met him.
It was as if someone had seen the Yeti!
But in all seriousness I totally respect Gilly’s decision to stay out of the limelight.
Our mutual Spurs mate Steve Perryman is the one football person who does see Gilly, so I know he is keeping well and that he is not reclusive for any other reason than he wants a quiet private life with no fuss.
He used to be an exceptional footballer but now he is just a regular member of the public. It’s like people criticising Nobby Stiles for becoming the latest 1966 hero to put his World Cup winner’s medal up for sale. Some seem to think it’s sacrilege. But if a wealthy Arab offered me a wad of cash for my medals, too bloody right I’d think about it!
None of us in the 1966 World Cup squad retired as genuinely wealthy men.
Of course, my work in the media has always kept me in touch with football, but I’ve never liked the idea of going back to White Hart Lane as a spectator.
It doesn’t feel right when you used to be the main man somewhere and now you know you just don’t belong.
I’m not comfortable with football clubs wheeling out us ex-players as some sort of exhibit, either. I know Gilly doesn’t want to meet up with me, nor any of his other old mates, and I totally understand his reasons.
I’d just urge you to read the book of his life, because I reckon it’s one hell of a story.
● In Search of Alan Gilzean by James Morgan is published tomorrrow, priced £9.99, from BackPage Press. Available from all good book shops and from www.backpagepress.co.uk
