Choosing a left back is one of the toughest assignments. How do you pick one from Roger Byrne, Tony Dunne and Denis Irwin? Byrne was a born leader, an unorthodox defender but one equipped with a personalised radar system. Apart from his talent, he had an aura all of his own. Tony Dunne was possibly the quickest defender I ever saw. His marking ability was quite brilliant, and I recall telling a journalist who had commented on Tony’s great form around the time we won the European Cup, ‘Well, you know, he’s been the best left back in Europe for years. He goes like lightning.’ In 539 appearances for United Dunne scored just two goals – he wasn’t a particularly good kicker of the ball – but he did have a kind of genius. He read an opponent so well that, with his speed, he could go out against any winger on earth confident of putting him in his pocket. However, Irwin has to get the vote because, on top of his other qualities of pace and judgement, he scored a lot of goals for a defender. You never worried about Denis Irwin; I remember him once making a mistake, an occasion so rare I found myself thinking, ‘Really, I never thought I would see that.’
In the middle of defence I am torn between the twin pillars of Alex Ferguson’s first title-winning team, Gary Pallister and Steve Bruce, and the man who brought a wave of reassurance whenever he walked into a dressing room, Nobby Stiles. Between Pallister and Bruce, I have to give the edge to Pallister. They were both defenders of the highest quality, they read attacks with great insight, and they weren’t afraid to put their heads in the dangerous places, but Pallister was a little more composed on the ball. Nobby is my friend, one of the great joys of my life, but my affection for him does not influence his selection one iota. Nobby is in because no teams were ever more reassured, or so driven, than those of United and England before such great matches as the semi-finals and final of the European Cup in 1968 and the same stages of the World Cup two years earlier. I know because I was there; I felt the force and strength of Nobby as though he was a band of steel running through everything we did. People used to look at him and say, ‘Well, you know he is not the most graceful player,’ and they were right – but they missed the point. The higher the pressure, the better Nobby was. If I ever picked a team without Nobby I would expect to be charged with negligence, at the very least.
Bryan Robson goes into my midfield because he was simply a great player, one whose spirit and ability were never diminished by his many serious injuries. You would want Bryan because of the sheer quality of his competitive character; the other skills – the tackling, the goal scoring, the inspiration – were all bonuses which carry him into my team alongside Roy Keane. Between them, they would squeeze the will out of the opposition.
Cantona is not the easiest choice when you think of the ability of men like Dennis Viollet and Liam Whelan who so dazzled the emerging Brazilian masters, but the Frenchman goes in because maybe no one ever seized a time, and an opportunity, at the end of a previously flawed career quite so perfectly as when he set the young Lions of Old Trafford on their way. As I said earlier, for reasons that may have been embedded in his background in French football, he never excelled in Europe, but in England for a while he was both king and puppet-master.
The fans of today may wonder about the absence of such as Paul Scholes, my model footballer, Ryan Giggs, David Beckham, Wayne Rooney and Cristiano Ronaldo, but they are still playing and, certainly in the case of Rooney and Ronaldo, have time left to define their careers fully. Some accounts, which were closed long ago, just cannot be forgotten – or surpassed. It is why Duncan Edwards, George Best and Denis Law walk into my team.
Now, when I look at the list, and the notes and scratchings in and out that accompanied it, I feel the strongest surge of pride. It comes from the fact that all of them wore the shirt that became the badge of my life – and that on any given day I would back them to beat anyone in the world.
EPILOGUE
THERE IS, I’VE always known, a point in every man’s story where you cannot escape the truth, and maybe I’ve reached it now. I’m still looking to the good years that I hope are left to me, but also have to accept, as reluctantly as a boy who never wanted an adventure to end, that so much I have considered valuable, even indispensable, to my happiness has to be let go.
It is not that sensations like playing against Alfredo di Stefano and Ferenc Puskas, and alongside Denis Law and George Best, or feeling the blast of the crowd on a big night at Old Trafford or some other great stadium in Europe with Nobby Stiles chivvying at your back, are in any way disposable. They are too thrilling and timeless for that. But when you consider all that you have seen and experienced since these were the
