"Brian and Me"
Strange day yesterday.
I was near enough to a computer all day to see what was going on through the various Derby lists and websites (although I didn't really believe it until I read it on the BBC website) but I never had the opportunity to add my thoughts to those of everyone else. I felt a bit like Stuart in Australia, or that lorry driver in his cab "somewhere up north" - miles away and all alone at a time when I wanted to be among friends to share in the grief.
As a result, news of Cloughie's death almost passed me by along with that of hundreds dead as a result of Hurricane Ivan and a poor bloody Brit about to be beheaded by some psychopath in Iraq. It all seemed so unreal until this lunchtime when I was in the pub having lunch with my wife. We were discussing the usual pressures of life (mainly work), and suddenly she said "And of course, it doesn't help you being in mourning. I know what a hero he was to you". And that was it. I just started blubbing, there in the pub.
Truth is yesterday, I really don't know what I would have said if I'd been able to communicate with the outside world. Great manager, great bloke, broke the mould, we'll never see the like... All true, but I felt I needed to say more. I tried telling people at work that he was more than just a great manager... but why was he? And how could anyone in Hampshire ever understand?
I wanted to say more about what he did for our town at a time when everyone was reeling from the shock of the Rolls-Royce crash. No-one in Derby escaped being touched by that event. I was in the Sixth Form, and mates came into school devastated by what had taken place and uncertain for their future, as parents accepted the inevitable and realised they had to virtually start their lives off again in an area where thousands were faced with the same uncertainties. And yet a year or so later, when I was away at College, a team that had been lower than we are now won the Championship. It was my team, it was absolutely, unbelievably, irrationally, incredible, and it was just what the town needed..
And yet not unbelievable at all, because we all believed.
The truly unbelievable scenes happened a couple of years later when Clough and Taylor (and we really, really must not forget Taylor) left the Baseball Ground. The players went on strike, and the two of them came back - briefly to say "Goodbye", and perhaps, "We'll always be with you". And they will of course.
It wrankles that they had even greater success with Forest, but it's all part of the story. How the heroes took our greatest rivals to the highest heights, but still remained our heroes.
Why "Brian and me"? It could be "Brian and you" or "Brian and us", but inevitably we each focus on what he meant to us personally. I'd seen him loads of times, and said "Hello!" to him now and then at Park Farm - then I got into a conversation with him earlier this year, ironically as it turns out, at a funeral. He wasn't at the funeral - he just happened to be in the hotel where were eating our cucumber sandwiches after being at the Crem.
He looked very well, and I started chatting to him, because in a situation like that he was somebody you could just approach and have a chat with. He spotted my black tie and the obvious gathering of a funeral party. "Was he a relation?" he said. "Yes", I replied, and then as a hasty correction, "But not one of mine."
We laughed, and he just said "Bring the family over for a chat". To my eternal regret, he did not finish the sentence with "Young man!"
It's been suggested that a suitable memorial might be to name the A52 "Brian Clough Way". What a wonderful idea to link our rival towns with something we have in common that we can share forever. We in Derby might say that the best thing to come out of Nottingham is the A52; equally it would be easy to argue that the best thing to come out of Derby was Brian Clough.
Can a knighthood be bestowed posthumously? For a man who performed miracles during his lifetime in football, the words "Arise, Sir Brian" could just tempt him to perform one more.
RIP.
Labels: brian, clough, derby, epitaph, r.i.p., reg nerps