David Miller, former football correspondent of the Daily Express, Times and Telegraph, paid tribute to his friend and former colleague Brian Glanville, who has died at the age of 93.
“The inestimable evaluation within football of Brian Glanville was that no critic or commentator in the global game was more fluent in reporting from any and every continent; more perceptive in assessment of teams or individuals; historically admired by fellow scribes. His two arresting characteristics were a biting wit, not least when abrasive on other commentators besides players or coaches, alongside the conviction that he himself could actually play the game artistically. Benignly articulate conversationally, yet when wearing boots at left-back for his ambling Sunday Park Chelsea Casuals he could be as defensively forlorn as a punctured harbour buoy. We went to the same Football Association founding school, Charterhouse, I as a wartime scholar.
“Brian’s publishing output, whether newspapers, books or fictional plays, was celestial across more than half a century; notably for over 30 years for both Sunday Times and World Soccer magazine; while in extensive book publication most memorably Terence Delaney’s Fireside Football odyssey with illuminations by Jerry Weinstein, Geoffrey Green, Ian Sharp, Alan Ross, Bob Ferrier, HE Bates and John Arlott. Fiction augmented Brian’s scholarship with the likes of A Bad Streak and Goalkeepers are Crazy.
“An at-times unconscionable furrow was ploughed in social debates on and off the field. Playing with me in a charity event at Brentford FC, Brian confronted former England captain Billy Wright of Wolves at centre-half…. for inept marking! England’s respected skipper for over 100 occasions, Bill fraternally remained sanguine, Brian flippantly parted with the rebuke: “He just doesn’t understand zonal marking” as if addressing a teenager. Though admittedly Geoffrey Green in The Times on Hungary’s infliction of England’s first-ever 6-3 home defeat years earlier, had reflected: “Wright spent the evening like a fire engine rushing desperately to the wrong fire”.
“Equally arch was Brian’s smiling aside to buoyantly-ambitious young Paul McCarthy, energetically finding his Fleet Street feet: “Oh, Macca, I just wish I had a fraction of your over-confidence”.
“The distinction of Brian’s prestige sprang from the certainty of his intellectual superiority among pre-dominantly middle-class England: as with Noel Coward, an element of simultaneous admiration of common ground together with subliminal mockery: as in The Stately Homes of England. Yes, post-Empire, we were in England rather in the lurch. I recall overhearing a conversation in which laconic Brian benignly advised England’s inestimable left-back Ray Wilson on how to he might have improved his performance when memorably winning the World Cup… Wilson making his only mistake of the entire tournament when conceding the opening goal. Dudley Moore, as it were, cross-examining Bobby Moore.
“Brian’s illuminating personable craft off-field enhanced his intimacy with players, despite the wit. It generated their respect for his gratification from their performance. Paddy Crerand, articulate Manchester United Scot, recalls: “In Brian’s unique days we were much closer to journalists than now. Mutually respective, friendly, humorous, not like today’s distant, casual partnership, often unsympathetic. There was then a journalistic affection for skill, such as with Johnny Haynes of Fulham and Jim Baxter of Glasgow Rangers, a shared passion for the game and a public appetite, not merely for the home team but any club that entertained.” Pat Jennings, perfection for Spurs, reflects: “Brian understood football”.
Many others paid tribute to Brian Glanville, including Richard Williams of the Guardian, who wrote:
“Some of us are old enough to remember a time when colleagues often sniggered at Brian Glanville’s ability to pronounce the names of foreign footballers – particularly those of Italian players – correctly.
“They stopped laughing when English teams were suddenly filled with foreign players, and the ability to avoid mangling their names became a necessary part of a football reporter’s skillset. “Brian’s interest in the game as it was played in other countries sprang from his cosmopolitan nature; it turned out to be prophetic, and I often felt that the rest of us should have been paying him some sort of pathfinder’s royalty.
“A sophisticate as much at home at the Chelsea Arts Club as at Stamford Bridge, he came from a time before football became gentrified but played and wrote about it with wholehearted commitment and without condescension towards those who’d come to it via routes very different from his own.
“He also told the most appalling jokes, a habit long overshadowed in the memory by the vision he brought to his writings on the game he so loved, and the elegance with which he expressed even his most pungent opinions. So, not with a snigger but with a bow of respect: Ciao, maestro!”
Henry Winter wrote this touching tribute:
“Brian Glanville, who has sadly passed away aged 93, was the greatest football writer this country has ever known. The joy evoked by Glanville was not only in reading his beautiful, insightful words. But also listening to his eloquent appraisal of a player, a manager, a match. Glanville had a rich voice and vocabulary that demanded listening to. You didn’t so much meet Glanville as have an audience with him.
“All the time you were in his compelling company you were aware of what a privilege it was, what knowledge was being imparted. Glanville was a heavyweight investigative reporter of supreme persistence and integrity who wrote hugely important pieces in the Sunday Times about Italian match-fixing amongst other scoops. As an acclaimed football correspondent, Glanville wrote powerfully about the triumphs and tribulations of the England national team in the 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s and well into the new Millennium. He warned about the threat of a European Super League in his agenda-setting, argument-settling “World Soccer” column decades before it raised its repulsive Hydra-like head in 2021. Glanville predicted in 1992 that the new Premier League would quickly become all about money and greed.
“He saw talent, praised it and supported it. When Bruno Fernandes joined Manchester United, Glanville wrote about what an inspirational signing he would turn out to be. Glanville delivered his authoritative verdicts in lengthy prose skilfully spiced with withering put-downs. He focused much of his ire on dithering leaders such as the FA’s Bert “The Inert” Millichip and Graham “Wet Fish” Kelly. FIFA’s Joao Havelange and Sepp Blatter were “horrible people”. He wasn’t wrong. He loved Paul Gascoigne as a magical creator – “blessed are the playmakers” – but lamented the off-field behaviour of “a lost soul”.
“Glanville could occasionally get it wrong and was unfairly harsh on Sir Bobby Robson, “a grotesquely over-rated manager”. Glanville wouldn’t just write it and hide, he explained his views to Robson face to face. He was fearless.
“One of the many joys of Glanville was that he wore his greatness lightly. He was always incredibly generous with his time and wisdom, especially to those starting out in football journalism. Sitting next to him in a press box guaranteed a running commentary on the game with distracting but entertaining score updates via his pocket radio from his beloved Serie A. “Lecce One-nil!!” He was loved in football journalism for his brilliance as an observer of the national obsession, for attending 13 World Cups, and also for his kindness.
“Brian cared about people, especially family of course. Any conversation with Brian involved proud updates on the achievements and qualities of his children, Jo, Liz, Toby and Mark. I went to see Brian at his home in Holland Park, London, shortly after his wife, Pamela, passed away in 2016 and Brian was bereft. What was supposed to be an interview about World Cups turned into a conversation about loss. Brian had a big heart, and was full of compassion as well as that powerful analytical mind, classical education and waspish wit. His journalist friends held an annual dinner for him, mainly to listen to Brian. Roy Hodgson would come along and they’d swap and savour stories about Inter Milan. “Facchetti!” “Altobelli!” “Mazzola!” Brian was always good fun to be around as well as an education.
“I first met Glanville when I was 16, playing for my London school against his Chelsea Casuals side full of flamboyant characters. (I later briefly played for them, and still recall Glanville’s patrician tones and urgent tactical instructions floating across Hackney Marshes or Wormwood Scrubs). Glanville was a full-back not particularly quick of body but very quick of mind and riposte. As schoolboys, we all wanted to play on the wing to get close to the great Glanville. He was a legend even back then, even to our nascent schoolboy minds.
“For Glanville was more than a football correspondent. He was a successful playwright and novelist, Radio 4 meets Radio 5. He co-wrote the West End show “Underneath the Arches”. It played to packed houses. He wrote the screenplay “Goal!”, the official film of the 1966 World Cup. It won an Bafta. He wrote the novel “The Rise of Gerry Logan”. An instant classic. “The best book on football ever written,” Franz Beckenbauer told him. Glanville knew everyone. He wrote “The Story of the World Cup” first published in 1973. “The definitive history,” Bobby Moore called it. Updated five times. He wrote “Goalkeepers Are Different”, a gripping novel set in professional football. As a schoolboy, I saved up to buy it from Foyles book emporium on Charing Cross Road in London. I walked out of Foyles clutching the book, feeling instantly more knowledgeable about the game. Simply by association with the great Glanville.
“My deepest condolences to Brian’s family and many friends. They have lost an incredibly special human being. And our industry has lost a giant. Rest In Peace, Brian.”
Brian’s son Mark Glanville, posted this picture with the words: “RIP a true great who also happened to be my dad. What a life, and such a legacy.”
