"A tribute to Sir Bobby on his 80th birthday" by George Caulkin

"Sir Bobby Robson is standing in the manager’s office at Newcastle United’s training ground. He is immaculate, as ever, in club blazer and tie, chewing his bottom lip, caught in a moment. It could be a decade ago, but it is yesterday, it is today and it is tomorrow. It is only a photograph, but it hangs opposite Alan Pardew’s desk and it is there for inspiration and, on what would have been Sir Bobby’s 80th birthday, for its relevance.

Pardew inherited the picture from Chris Hughton, his predecessor, who was in caretaker charge of Newcastle when Robson died in late July 2009. In time, he may replace it – “I’m going to put a happier one of him up, not for him, but for me,” Pardew said – but, whatever the expression or the pose, Sir Bobby’s portrait will remain there, a bond with the club’s rich seam of history. And something more.

Robson was born in 1933, “into a black and white world”, as he put it. It was the year Hitler became Chancellor of Germany, that Prohibition ended in the United States. His family huddled in their Anderson shelter during the Second World War, a precursor to the gloom of Langley Park colliery, where he first went to work. He travelled to St James’ Park to idolise Albert Stubbins. He would later play against Jackie Milburn.

By the conclusion of his long career – one which brought trophies to Ipswich Town, aching near-misses with England, a dribble around some of Europe’s biggest clubs and Champions League nights to Newcastle – he was educating players 50 years his junior, but his enthusiasm, freshness and relevance lingered. They still do. They must; people have raised almost £5 million for the Sir Bobby Robson Foundation’s anti-cancer causes.

There is a bust of him inside the old reception at St James’ and a statue of him at the Barrack Road corner of the ground, but Robson’s presence in Pardew’s room at Darsley Park feels, in some ways, most appropriate. “It reminds me of the values of this football club when I look at it,” Pardew said. “You know, just the standards that Sir Bobby set. I’m not the same character as him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try and emulate him.

“I have to be conscious of trying to set the same standards. He had time for everyone and enthusiasm for everything. Everyone I’ve spoken to about him has always said he would encourage them to feel better about themselves, that he could bring enthusiasm to a conversation about crossing the road. It’s a lovely thing he had and I’ve tried to be better at it, to try and show a positive attitude when people talk to me or visit me.”



At the Sage Gateshead tonight – the iconic, imposing venue on the banks of the Tyne which Robson described as a “dozing armadillo” – Pardew will attend a commemoration of Sir Bobby’s life. So will John Carver, his assistant, and a coach under Robson, as well as his former players Steve Harper and Shola Ameobi. Steve Gibson and Mick Mills, who are patrons of his charity, will be there.

Tottenham Hotspur’s Andre Villas-Boas, whose path into coaching was eased by Robson, will be in the audience, as will Stuart Pearce, the England Under-21 manager and his left back at Italia ’90. So will Sunderland’s Martin O’Neill and others. Put those things together – with a stellar cast-list from the world of music and comedy – and you have a glimpse of how deeply his influence infiltrates.

Those who worked with him – whether players, coaches, journalists or fundraisers – will not forget his humility, humanity, the work-ethic, of how time in his company left his stardust clinging to you. Even removed from proximity those qualities were evident, which partially explains why his appeal stretches far beyond his native North East, why his memory inspires so much generosity and good.

Kieron Dyer, now at Middlesbrough, played in Robson’s brilliant, vibrant Newcastle side. “He was a huge influence on my career, but also on my life,” he said. “He’s a national treasure. I miss him a lot. He was the best manager I played for. He would have been just as good now as he was then. You’d go into his office and he would drop you, but you’d still come out thinking you were the best player in the world. He was unique.”

After Sir Bobby passed away, supporters of Sunderland – Newcastle’s great rivals – sang his name, loud and lusty, at a pre-season friendly at Celtic. Such is his power, such were his efforts for England, the dignity with which he conducted himself, his ability to represent the region and the game he adored. Cancer may have grown in him, but hate withered. He was, and is, the best of us.

It is one reason, surely, that the Football Association announced that, as part of its 150th anniversary celebrations, Saturday August 10 will be the Sir Bobby Robson National Football Day. Our sport has tribalism and confrontation at its heart – it is what makes us sing and chant and fume – and while that is the reason for its agonising beauty, the important things that draw us together can be drowned out by the battle cries.

We marvelled – rightly – at the volunteer spirit of the London Olympics and there were frequent, unflattering comparisons with the streak of venality in our national game, yet there are 400,000 people who volunteer in football each week, washing strips, refereeing, driving minibuses, grafting to the bone to keep local clubs afloat. Enduring and generating ebullience in the face of sheer odds.

Sir Bobby is a fine vehicle for that story; a unifier in a world of division, a man who carried on, regardless. “Bobby continues to inspire such huge affection and respect,” Alan Shearer said. “He was so proud of his time with England. I know there were some difficult moments for him and some fierce criticism, but his enthusiasm and passion for the game in this country and beyond never wavered at all, which is amazing.”

It is difficult to encapsulate his narrative. Nearly 600 league appearances as a player and 20 England caps is enough for one life, yet his spell at Portman Road – where he won the FA and Uefa Cups – was another epic. And then his country again, the Hand of God, the tears of Turin, the years abroad, Barcelona and elsewhere, before that twinkling half-decade on Tyneside.

Difficulty was a companion for much of it, because that is the reason work becomes available; you do not soar in football, as he did, without steel tips on your wings. “As a manager, you get to find out first-hand just how difficult it is to win trophies and to be a success,” Pardew said. “So you appreciate the legends of the game. To have achieved what he achieved, Sir Bobby is one of those, no doubt.”

The Sage Gateshead is the right venue for Sir Bobby Robson – A Celebration. It was there that he and Lady Elsie, his wife, had retreated for a celebratory cuppa in the spring of 2008 when cancer had taken grip for the fifth time and they were awaiting the results of a scan. The result was positive – there had been no further growth – and, on the spur of the moment, they stayed that night to listen to Kim Criswell, an American songstress.

When we think of Bobby, of great sporting occasions, it is to a musical score; Nessun Dorma for Italia ’90 and Paul Gascoigne, Going Home (Theme of the Local Hero) for that Indian summer at Newcastle. But it always accompanied him. As a boy in Langley Park, he would save up his pocket money and, once a month or so, would catch the bus to Durham to buy new records by Frank Sinatra – he adored Sinatra – Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole.

He owed his “biggest debt” to music. Then playing for Fulham, a Christmas trip back home took him to the local hop at the Parochial Hall. He met Elsie that night and walked her home, giving her a peck on the cheek at her doorstep. The cinema became the focal point of their dates. “An American in Paris starring Gene Kelly was a big favourite,” he said. “Elsie and I adopted Our Love is Here to Stay as our song.”

It is a fitting memorial. He is gone now and his loss is grievous, but he is here to stay, too. He is present when people shed sweat or cash for his foundation. He is at Wembley, St James’, the Stadium of Light, Tottenham, Real Madrid – Jose Mourinho was his translator at Barca – he is there when football forgets its nature and unites. He is in the swell of Nessun Dorma. He is in the manager’s office at Newcastle, hands in his pockets, on the cusp of a decision.

Our Bobby. Our love. Happy birthday.

http://www.sirbobbyrobsonfoundation.org.uk"

Happy birthday Sir Bobby.
Gone but never forgotten.

 

Sir Bobby would still of been giving his services to football if he was around now
I wish most of the other managers in the game had he's enthusiasm

 

Thanks for sharing this Pulpe

 

I can't think of another man from the World of football that could bring together fans from all over the World! Nobody but nobody could possibly have a bad word to say about him!

Rest in Peace Sir Bobby

 

Bobby will always stand as an example of what can be good about our game and region.

 

A miners son who never forgot his roots.

He kept smiling and thinking of others till the end.

 

Exceptional manager and his managerial skills are dwarfed by his personality, great great GREAT man and will forever be apart of footballs memory

 

A true gentleman, when he spoke everyone listen making your hairs on your back stand up, he represented what the north east is all about, what football means to people.

How many newcastle managers could rock up at Sunderland as a spectator and walk thro the crowds to a welcomed reception, I always remember sky sports showing the Sunderland fans away at Celtic singing his name the summer he past.

But more importantly he was a true gent a one of a kind
RIP SIR BOBBY