Just what is it about the number 7 that butters my muffins? Perhaps the fact that my two favourite footballers of all time have worn the number for the team I support. Bryan Robson and Eric Cantona, not the greatest players on earth, granted, but my two demi-God's all the same. Robbo and Eric were both cpatains and talismans of my club, Manchester United. The Number 7 was not exclusive to just these two though. Before I was born Stevie Coppell was the incumbunt, passing the baton on to Robson. Cantona's arrival relegated Robson to number 12, and after Eric's retirement it was handed to David Beckham and subsequently to Cristiano Ronaldo.
For over a decade Bryan Robson was the heart of Manchester United, captain of the club and of his country. Countless injuries meant that he didn't see as much football as he should, but when Robbo played, he really played. He was fair, but hard, an engine a Formula 1 car would have been proud of powering him from box to box, and into tackles. And he won those tackles. During the dark days of the mid to late 80's Robson was the mainstay of Manchester United. Sir Alex Ferguson took over and rebuilt the team, bit by bit. While players like Ralph Milne, Terry Gibson, Peter Davenport and Graeme Hogg flounderd, Robson continued to flourish. True, he had a decent supporting cast in Brian McClair, Norman Whiteside, Mark Hughes, Paul Mcgrath, but nobody held the club togther like Robson. When you needed him he was there with a late run into the box, defenders unable to pick him up and ultimately scoring. Long live Captain Marvel.
And now for the man. Upturned collar, arrogant strut, a heady mix of genius and madness just waiting to explode. Eric Cantona. Maradonna he wasn't. He was just Eric, Eric the Red, Eric the King. This man fired the imaginations of football fans everywhere with moments of sheer brilliance and appalled people with acts of utter foolishness. The two best examples I can give are as follows....
The first isn't an obvious one, and one that many would struggle to remember. 9th January, 1993. United v Spurs at Old Trafford. Denis Irwin gets the ball on the edge of a heavily congested Spurs penalty box and squares it to Cantona. his teammates filter to either side, expecting one more square ball, as was the dull nature of our play before Eric's arrival just over a month before. Eric looks up and sees that Irwin has continued his run into the Spurs box and is in space. With his first touch he gently flickes the ball up........and over........defenders jumping almost backwards in surprise.......they can't reach it.......the ball is lofted over everyone into Irwin's path........BANG........2-0. A moment of beauty, of brilliance, a sign of the man's wonderful talent. Of course, there are many more, more important, maybe more beautiful, but for me at least, that was the sign that we had a truly special player.
The second is obvious. Selhurst Park, Jan 95. Crystal Palace defender Richard Shaw pulls back Cantona when they chase a ball.....Eric lashes out with his boot and gets sent off. Heads shake, curses are muttered. Then the camera quickly pans a little to the left, just in time to see Cantona fly into the crowd, a "kung-fu" kick aimed at a Palace fan's chest. The mouths that 8 seconds before we cursing Eric are now wide open in disbelief. Eric and Matthew Simmons trade blows before Eric is pulled away and marched down the tunnel. The fan in question was hurling such vitriolic abuse at Eric, something he had to put up with week in week out that he cracked. He'd had enough and took the law into their own hands. How many footballers would secretly have wish they had the guts to do the same thing? A few I warrant. A 10 month ban followed. Post ban Eric returned and guided a young United team to a second Double (Premier League and FA Cup victories in the same season). A season after, he was gone, retiring at the top after having captained another Championship winning team. Acting and Beach Football became Eric's life, with success in both fields.
Those two examples sum up Cantona perfectly. Philospher, artist, actor, footballer, unpredictable. And that is why he was held in such high regard by United fans.
Long live Robbo, long live Eric.
Long live the Number 7 shirt.
Spoony.