Trevor Francis passed away earlier this week leaving the football world in mourning
The untimely passing of Trevor Francis this week at just 69 years of age took me back to when we were both young men scoring goals for club and country.
It had become obvious to me as the months of 1976 unfolded that my time at Newcastle United was to be limited. I had enjoyed the most wonderful experiences but without actually saying it Gordon Lee had it very apparent that there was to be a parting of the ways.
As a consequence I received a phone call one day from my old mate Frank Clark who was by now at Nottingham Forest having been signed by Brian Clough.
“The gaffer asked me to give you a ring,” said Clarkie. “Would you fancy signing for Forest?”
“I would love to play for Cloughie but I am looking to get my England place back and Forest are in the Second Division. I won’t do it from there. Besides I know of strong interest from elsewhere.”
I was fully aware at the time that Arsenal wanted me. They were, and still are, one of the great historic clubs of football whereas Forest have never been a top, top club with huge gates.
Frank stressed that Cloughie was building a good side that would challenge for all the honours but I kindly turned down the offer and signed for Arsenal.
The next year 1977 Forest won promotion, the following season they won the league and the league cup, the next year, 1979, they won the European Cup, and in 1980 they unbelievably repeated the feat.
Sure, I scored 29 goals in my first season as a Gunner and loved it but I reckon I missed jumping on the roundabout. Part of Cloughie’s building was to later go out and pay the first ever £1million transfer fee to sign Trevor Francis from Birmingham City.
Francis scored the only goal to win Forest their first European Cup against Malmo and won a second medal the following season.
Trevor was younger than me but our paths crossed of course. I remember when he was a teenager Newcastle went to St Andrews to play Birmingham. We were 3-0 down by half-time and Francis had scored all three.
We were livid and went out all guns blazing in the second-half. I scored a hat-trick and the game ended 3-3. I went to see the referee afterwards and asked for the match ball. “I want to present it to young Trevor,” I explained. The ref handed it over. “Nice gesture,” he said.
Trevor was a wonderfully gifted footballer who had a delicate way about him. He looked as though he could be broken in half by the hard men of the day but he never was. His touch was like silk, his passing wonderful, and he had a terrific eye for goal.
Much later on I was doing a series of interviews with legends for my radio station and I went to talk with Francis. He was an absolute gentleman, much too nice a man for the cut throat world of football which he found out when he became a manager. I have nothing but good to say about him – even if he did do me out of two European Cups!
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