I met him on a plane flying west to east — Los Angeles to Chicago — to attend a big and famous sporting goods trade show. A football bag I had designed was being marketed at the show.
There are no two ways about it — Alf Ramsey was, and remains, the most iconic and successful manager England have ever had. A Right Back, he was quiet, determined, and brilliant, qualities he brought with him when he was appointed manager.
He had won 32 international caps, captained England three times, and scored three goals, all from penalties, and had played alongside Sir Stanley Matthews who characterised him as “very modest”.
Ramsey’s crowning achievement was of course steering England to winning the World Cup in 1966 with a team that was nicknamed “The Wingless Wonders”, thanks to a narrow 4-4-2, with a packed, direct midfield. He was credited with possessing great tactical nous.
When Bobby Charlton heard of Alf’s death from Alzheimer’s, he said, “I couldn’t be more upset if it was [our] family. He gave all of us in the football business the greatest moment we have ever had, as players, as coaches, as managers, as fans, and as officials.”
Ramsey came from a relatively humble background in Dagenham, and there was one individual in the higher echelons of the Football Association who, from a strictly snobbish viewpoint, took a dislike to him and determined to that he should be got rid of. This character bided his time, and eventually succeeded. After 11 years of unstinting service and unequalled success, Ramsey was kicked out with brutal insensitivity. And at a time when his salary was less than that of a Third Division club manager.
Sir Alf, noted for his strictness in demanding standards of behaviour both on and off the field, was the first person to be inducted into the National Football Hall of Fame Museum twice —as a manager (2002) and as a player (2010).
Quiet-voiced, and a man of few words spoken in a slightly clipped accent, he chatted amiably with me about (wouldn’t you know?) football. One topic on which we differed was that of luck when it came to becoming a professional footballer. Alf was adamant that luck did not come into it. I disagreed, because I knew quite a number of players who had become pros and who admitted that luck had played a significant part in their choice of career.
Alf and I met up again at the show for a brief few words when he showed genuine interest in my first book. The photograph shows him looking at it.
He passed away in 1999 at the age of 79.
