By Bob “The Cat” Bevan MBE
I was 13 when I first saw Jimmy Hill. It was 1958 and not just football fanatics like me but the whole country was struggling to come to terms with the Munich air crash.
Manchester United had lost some of the best players ever to grace the game and the whole country was behind them as they regrouped and, remarkably, got through to the FA Cup semi-final against Second Division Fulham. The first game ended 2-2 to be followed by a mid-week replay at Highbury.
I watched it on my Grandma’s tiny black and white TV. I was interested to see it. I had heard of Jimmy Hill because he had once scored five goals in a game at Doncaster.
I was waiting to be impressed but he never looked like scoring. Even so it was a great game with United winning 5-3 although not easy to follow because the BBC showed the game from a camera behind one of the goals!
Jimmy stood out only because he was one of the few players in those days with a beard, grown initially to hide his trademark long chin.
A year later I set off to see five games over the Easter holiday. In those days teams would play three matches in four days. My first was at Fulham, who were second in the old Division Two, against Sheffield Wednesday, who were top.
Jim was out of favour and had not scored all season. He had not been picked but during the kick-in before the game (no warm-ups then) someone got injured and he was put in the team. Fulham won 6-2 and Jim got a hat-trick with his head.
Little did I think then that I would become good friends with him and, much to his delight, I would always mention this hat-trick if he was in the audience.
In her recent book, My Gentleman Jim, his third wife Bryony has put together what is, in many ways, a heart-breaking read for his friends and admirers.
It laid bare the terrible effects of Alzheimer’s disease, which robbed us of perhaps the greatest innovator the game of football has ever seen.
Not just football either. There can’t be many major charities in the country that he has not helped.
He found it hard to say no to anyone.
Jim’s life extended far beyond football as the years went by. He was part of the fabric of the country. There can’t have been anyone, football fan or not, who hadn’t heard of him.
Jim and I have a mutual friend in Derek Ufton. He was centre-half for Charlton and played once for England against the Rest of the World. He also kept wicket for Kent where, like me, he is a past president. He still went to see Jim right to the end even though he did not recognise him.They were in the forces together and when demobbed shared a flat in Central London.
In Bryony’s book, Derek tells how Jim was posted elsewhere during their time together. Derek was playing for his station’s team when the officer in charge asked if anyone knew a big, strong forward who could score goals and complete the team.
Derek suggested Jim and the officer got him transferred. When Derek met him on his return, Jim was furious. He said he wanted to know which idiot had done this as he had everything made where he had been, including the best-looking girl in the area. Derek didn’t tell him until 50 years later on This is Your Life.
Although regarded by many as an average player, even though he won an England B cap and played at the highest level, his legacy will live forever – three points for a win, inventing TV football punditry, scrapping the maximum wage. The list is amazing.
But did you know he never personally benefitted from the latter? Before it came in, he had a career-ending knee injury.
He is also well-known for bringing Coventry City back from the dead as manager and then chairman. Bizarrely, he once said to me that of all his achievements, he was most proud of levelling the pitch at Coventry’s old ground at Highfield Road. When they were awarded an FA Cup semi-final, he said it was one of the best days of his life.
Yet he was also regarded as a bit of a joke figure. This was largely his own fault because he was always happy to laugh at himself and to see the funny side of virtually everything.
The night I first met him was a case in point. It was the Footballer of the Year dinner in 1980. I had been pulled from obscurity after being spotted at an Ipswich Town dinner to speak at this hugely prestigious event.
Long before the PFA and other award dinners, this was the one to attend and virtually every Footballer of the Year since 1948 (Stanley Matthews) was there.
In my routine I took the mick out of Jim but he clearly did not mind one bit.
After the dinner he sought me out to ask if I would go and speak at the International Club lunch the following day. Itwas the start of a great relationship.
Over the following years, whenever we met we would talk forever about football and much more.
His self-deprecation is shown in the final chapter of my book “Nearly Famous”.
In 2002, I had been asked to speak at a book launch for Terry Venables. Jim was in the audience and Terry told a funny story about him which bought the house down. The story is in the book but a bit watered down.
Terry did an impression of Jimmy, although to be fair it was a bit more Bruce Forsyth than Jim.
When I stood up, I did a routine about Jim boring me to death all through lunch (totally untrue) but the audience loved it. I kept coming back to this through my act and the audience had started to feel some sympathy for him.
Johnny Haynes was also sitting with us and I heard Jim lean over to him and say “I’m not even speaking and I’ve had more mentions than anyone else.”
This was a gift and I repeated it to the audience. The roof went off and I couldn’t continue for some time.
Just when I thought I could re-start, Jim stood up and took a bow. More uproar as they cheered him to the rafters.
I waited some more and then, with immaculate timing, he got me again. He leapt to his feet and without a microphone shouted “Sunday Morning, Sky Sports, Nine-Thirty.” I quickly finished and sat down.
Terry and I still laugh about it to this day. What a great bloke and what fun Jim was until his terrible illness.
Given all that has gone on these past few years in the game we all love, it occurred to me the other day that if I had a magic wand I would have made him better and put him in charge of FIFA. Now there’s a thought, Jim.
About ten years or so ago, Jim invited me as his guest to a dinner at Wimbledon Lawn Tennis Club where he was a much-valued member. He loved tennis and was a good player.
He told me Alex Ferguson was speaking at the annual members’ dinner and, as he knew I was quite friendly with him, asked me to go as his guest.
When I arrived there was no sign of Jim. I joined our table of other members and we became increasingly worried about him. I was in two minds whether to call Bryony but, at the same time, did not want to worry her.
Next morning I called. I asked Bryony if Jim was there and he was. “Where were you last night?” Suddenly the penny had dropped. “Oh God. I thought it was tonight. Really annoying as I was up in London for a lunch yesterday anyway.”
It seems this dinner was always held on a Friday but had been moved to the Thursday to accommodate Alex. I thought no more about it, putting it down to the sort of confusion busy people can encounter.
However, I have since wondered whether that was the start of his problems.
Since Jimmy’s death last month the tributes have rightly been massive. Lead story on the national TV news. He would have been so proud of that. A great man and the greatest friend football will ever have. RIP Jim.
My Gentleman Jim by Bryony Hill is published by the Book Guild £15.99 (See review on pages 44-45) Nearly Famous by Bob ”the Cat” Bevan is published by Virgin Books Hardback £19.99, paperback £9.99. Also available on Kindle from Amazon £4.99
