September 1972, the match result from my forum name, was the first time I remember watching a football match on TV. Growing up far away from Merseyside, I wouldn’t attend my first match for many years, but five year old me was captivated by the men in Red and the Anfield crowd. It was two players in particular who made the biggest impression on me. Tommy Smith was still captaining that team, Emlyn Hughes was in the line up that day, as were Keegan, Toshack, and Callaghan. But Stevie Heighway on the wing (two assists!) and the man between the sticks were the ones who captivated me and became my two favourite players until King Kenny and John Barnes arrived.
When my little brother got old enough to take an interest in football in the late 70s, we would always play one on one- taking turns in goal. He had chosen the Gunners as his club, so he was always Pat Jennings , and I was always Ray. My brother went on to be a professional golfer, and I was on the junior national team for another sport, but when left to our own devices, it was always football that we chose to play, despite our parents frowning on the idea. Some of the fondest memories of my childhood were those times we spent emulating Ray and Jennings.
Later on in my adolescence, when away at boarding school and away from my parents’ disapproval of the sport, I did play some football. I was a speedy, left footed winger like Heighway until a late growth spurt took me to almost 1.9m, and then I got to emulate Ray as a left footed keeper. I got to play a couple of seasons in a lower division club after uni- I was never fit to hold Ray’s jock, but for someone who only took up the sport at 13, and who never trained full time, I feel like I did OK, and it was because of the inspiration I took from Ray.
Only met him once, on a visit to a match at Anfield many years ago, and I think I was too awestruck to utter a coherent sentence. The photo I had of myself with Ray from that day was one of the prized possessions I missed the most when the vindictive Ex disposed of most of my items of sentimental value in a fit of spite.
So hard to lose our childhood heroes, even more so when you grow up and find out they’re one of the few who were actually worth idolizing because they were good men off the pitch.
R.I.P. Ray. YNWA. Thanks for all the wonderful memories.
