Decades before some pretentiously right-on, anonymous graffiti-fucker started daubing neo-political messages on the back gate of number 73 Halstead Grove, Esher and other such ‘galleries’, the world was blessed with another ‘Banksie’. This one also an artist. But of a different type. An artist of the goalkeeping type. And whilst asking the normally rhetorical question: ‘what good has ever come out of Stoke???’, the answer is undoubtedly: Gordon Banks.
Gordon was from the age when footballers were modest. Gentle. Decent. No full-body tattoos, they didn’t earn enough to pay for them, back in the day. No bling. No Bentleys. Just honest-to-goodness geezers grafting an honest day’s work. So the legend goes.
And no-one embodied that legend more than Gordon Banks. An unquestionably fantastic goalkeeper, he rocketed to world renown with just one save. A brilliant save. Which itself would have done no harm to his reputation. But this was in a World Cup match, so was viewed by all 4 billion of the world’s population in its entirety. And most of all; it was from Pele. Who was the best of the best of the best. Ever!!! And if Pele thought it was an amazing save; IT WAS FUCKING AMAZING! End of.
So, career be damned, it all came down to one save, from the best player the world has ever known, playing in the best team the world has ever seen in the best world cup there ever was. 1970 in Mexico.
Of course, Banksie was a World Cup winner too, in 1966, which immediately gave him legendary status, albeit more locally sourced than he later achieved.
Basically, when people die their stock rises in memory. They were always that bit better, nicer, more heroic than actual history recalls. But not Banksie. He was the real thing. Who lived up to his legendary status.
Until yesterday. RIP Gordon.
Happy Wednesday
A xxxx
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