George Best, Observer extract

In 1976, Northern Ireland were drawn against Holland in Rotterdam in a World Cup qualifying match. Back then the reporters stayed at the same hotel as the team and travelled with them on the coach to the game. I sat beside George.

Holland and Johan Cruyff were at their peak. George wasn't. I asked him what he thought of Cruyff, rated the world No.1, and he said he thought the Dutchman was outstanding. "Better than you?" I asked. George laughed. "You're kidding, aren't you? I tell you what I'll do tonight ? I'll nutmeg Cruyff first chance I get." And we both laughed.

When the Irish players were announced on the pitch. Best was last. "And now," revved up the announcer, "Number 11, Georgie [long pause] Best." And out trotted George. Above him, a beautiful blonde reached over with a long-stemmed red rose.

George stopped, trotted back, reached up to take the flower, kissed her hand and ran out on to the pitch waving his rose at the punters as the applause grew even louder.

Five minutes into the game he received the ball wide on the left. Instead of heading for goal he turned infield, weaved past at least three Dutchmen and found his way to Cruyff who was wide right. He took the ball to his opponent, dipped a shoulder twice and slipped it between Cruyff's feet. As he ran round to collect it and run on he raised his right fist in the air.

Only a few of us in the press box knew what it meant. Cruyff the best? Are you kidding?

Posted By: thirsty work on November 25th 2005 at 02:36:31

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