Published October 30, 2005
George Best had come in along the goalline from the corner flag in a blur of intricate deception. Having embarrassed three or four challengers, he drove the ball high into the net with a fierce simplicity that made spectators wonder if the acuteness of the angle had been an optical illusion.
“What was the time of that goal?” asked a young reporter in the Manchester United press box. “Never mind the time, son,” said an older voice. “Just write down the date.”
The date was in the Sixties, and by 1974 Best had walked out of first-class football at the age of 27 and headed into another life shaped by a painful and continuing struggle with alcoholism. Yet when I accompanied