The King is dead. Quick, elusive, brave, lethal, an all-time great. Denis Law.
Law was a magnificent footballer who filled his own space at Manchester United alongside fellow Titans George Best and Sir Bobby Charlton. The Lawman fell somewhere in between, not as flamboyant as Best, not as straight as Charlton.
He was a wisp of a fella, fists tucked into his sleeves like a street urchin, always on the look out for food. Goals kept his belly full and he was never anything less than ravenous.
Most reading this will have neither seen him play nor have any sense of the predator he was. This Boomer caught only a glimpse at the end of his career, but it was enough to grasp his majesty and the power of that stiff right arm held aloft in salute.
The old highlights reels of muddy duels in black and white do not do justice to his wizardry. His slight frame belied his pace and aggression. He was a fleet-footed terrier and though not a tall man jumped like he had springs in his boots.
Law happened across the piece in the early Sixties just as transfer values were beginning to become a thing following the scrapping of the minimum wage. His £55k move to Manchester City from Huddersfield in 1960 broke the transfer record. A year later he was heading to Torino for double that figure and a new record.
For Law, like Jimmy Greaves, who joined AC Milan in the same year, the Italian experiment would be short-lived. He stayed longer than Greaves but there would be no second season in Serie A. Instead Law became the catalyst for the post-Munich revival at United, a kind of skinny Eric Cantona, a welterweight with a heavyweight’s punch.
United won the FA Cup in his first season and the 46 goals he scored in his second set a club record that holds today. After the trauma of Munich, Law brought light to Old Trafford, reviving United’s sense of themselves during Sir Matt Busby’s second coming.
Only Wayne Rooney and Charlton scored more than his 237 goals, but not at the same prolific rate. Law was born and raised in Aberdeen in the kind of poverty unimaginable today. He carried a sense of that in his bearing, as if he were always playing for his next meal.
He was enthralled by Best’s chutzpah and skill, and admiring of Charlton’s athletic grace. Even in that exalted company Law carved his own identity, loved by the fans for his quicksilver reactions and fearless approach, adored by his team-mates for always being on the end of a cross.
This from Brian Kidd to United chronicler Andy Mitten. “He was slight, with the heart of a lion. An unbelievable finisher, he scored every type of goal. He said to me: ‘If you’re ever wide, don’t look up, put the cross in early. If I’m not there, it’s my fault.’”
In his dry, Lanarkshire argot Bill Shankly, for whom he played at Huddersfield and who wanted him at Liverpool but could not afford the fee, captured his essence with this typically pithy observation: “Denis Law could dance on egg shells.”
Indeed, at his peak he left no trace in the mud that slowed those around him. Pitches were not the pristine carpets they are today but frequently unstable platforms inviting agricultural interest from his markers.
That’s if they could see him coming. Law would glide over the surface, appearing on the shoulder of defenders like the reaper himself to smash the ball home.
Charlton’s brother Jack, a towering centre-back at arch rivals Leeds recalled just such a moment.
“I’ll never forget going for a cross in a game at Elland Road and, as I went to volley the ball clear, suddenly Denis was diving over me and heading it into the net. I kicked Denis right in the mouth. I really walloped him – not deliberately, of course.
“Anyway, I remember Denis lying on his back and there’s blood and everything coming out of his nose and mouth while the trainer was sponging him down. I was standing over him and he started to come to. He looked up at me and smiled, ‘Did I score, big fella?’”
In his later years Law was increasingly troubled by knee problems as the treatment meted out took its toll. He was devastated to miss the European Cup Final in 1968, and lost out the following year when United departed in the semi-finals to AC Milan.
Eleven years after his arrival had galvanised the Busby project, Law left for City, in the service of whom he would bring down the curtain on the empire he helped to shape – his back-heeled goal at the Scoreboard End sending United into the old Second Division.
For a few brief seconds time seemed to stand still as the enormity of what he had done settled on the stadium. Law appeared struck by lightning. His teammates tried to rouse him but there was no response, just a glazed look in his eyes. It proved his last act. He was substituted immediately and never kicked a ball professionally again.
Law’s passing reminds us that affirmation is not just about numbers. It’s about emotion, how a player makes you feel. Law entered the soul of United and the hearts of supporters. They loved him for his spirit as much as his goals.
Like Charlton and Best, Law is indivisible from the red shirt, the very mention of his name placing him at the Stretford End, arm raised, finger pointing skyward in celebration.
from Football - The i Paper https://ift.tt/T7xZoGr
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