My second Rogue's Corner was an absolute pearler - George Best. Pretty much one of the very top handful of men ever to play football in it's entire history AND a handsome funny devil AND a merchant of carnage on a catatonic level.

It beggars belief his story hasn't been made into a major motion picture.

I really got a kick out of writing this one, tinged with sadness just a short time after his death.

SIMPLY THE BEST


Only George Best could have graced this issue’s Rogues Corner. He is arguably the greatest sporting rogue in history.

For most New Zealanders, though, chances are (especially if you’re under 40) you wondered what all the fuss was about a few weeks ago when his untimely death at 59 was followed by the biggest funeral in Irish history.

Rather than grope awkwardly for superlatives to describe him, it seems far more apt to quote others in the know. South Americans Pele and Diego Maradona, widely acknowledged as two of the greatest soccer players of all time, respectively said: “He is the best player in the world” and “He is my all-time favourite player."

Legendary Manchester United manager Sir Alex Ferguson gushed: “He is unquestionably the greatest.” Best’s manager while at United, Sir Matt Busby, uttered: “You don’t coach him – he’s a genius.”

You get the picture. In his glory years with United from the mid-1960s until 1974, Best’s phenomenal talent exploded like an atom bomb on the British then the European football scene.

What made him so great? For starters, his gravity defying, trapeze-artist balance, feet which seemed attached to the ball, devastating pace. Then there was his clinical finishing (179 goals in 466 matches for United). He had pinpoint-accurate passing, tackled and headed exceptionally, and had surprising strength for a slim man of average height. Add to this his spirit, arrogance and courage, and few authorities argue there has ever been a better white player in football history.

This talent saw him take United to glory with English League Championships in 1965 and 1967 and the European Cup in 1968, the year he was voted European Player of the Year. For these reasons alone, Best’s name was destined to be etched in history.

But there is more. As well as his talent, Best was beautiful; blessed with ridiculously good looks. These combined factors made him the first real superstar of the English game.

After a mesmerising display against Portuguese champions Benfica in 1968, his piercing blue eyes and mane of unkempt hair saw him dubbed “El Beatle” by the Portuguese press, bringing him global fame.

He couldn’t have timed it better. Britain’s Swinging Sixties cultural revolution was in full swing and Besty was deified as a bona fide icon of the era along with the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and Twiggy.

As the world watched on in awe, Georgie Boy was having it all. He began biting off as much as he could chew of all the exquisite pleasures his massive celebrity attracted. Nightclubs, cocktail parties, fashion boutiques and modelling appearances.

Oh, and the women. Best loved them as much as they loved him and he began riding an endless carousel of beautiful, blonde, mini-skirted babes, including more than one Miss World (“I used to go missing quite a lot ... Miss Canada, Miss United Kingdom, Miss World”).

When asked once by friend Michael Parkinson in an interview how near to kick-off George had made love, he famously replied: “Half-time!”

Best’s energies gradually evolved from football to hard-core partying. “I spent a lot of money on booze, birds and fast cars. The rest I just squandered” is probably his most famous quote, showcasing his impish sense of humour so celebrated and mourned at his funeral.

Another famous Best anecdote occurred the morning after another gargantuan night of playboy hedonism, when a young hotel bellboy was beckoned into the room and discovered Best in bed with the current Miss World, a magnum of champagne and tens of thousands of pounds in cash won gambling. 

He exclaimed: “George, where did it all go wrong?” Where it went wrong depends on your definition of wrong. At the time, Best was living a life that the Rogues team is very, very envious of. Aside from his humorous quips, Best’s philosophy on it all was intriguing. “I was born with a great gift,” he said, “and sometimes with that comes a destructive streak.”

Right up until near the end, he maintained that nothing went wrong, as countless commentators would have us believe. He said that he simply got sick of it all. “Just as I wanted to outdo everyone when I played, I had to outdo everyone when we were out on the town.”

Best was well aware of his failings and once tellingly said: “If I had been ugly you never would have heard of Pele.”

Rogues Corner will not be drawn into yet more conservative tut-tutting. Yes, Best paid the price for his gradual descent into serious alcoholism (and all the negative consequences) with his untimely demise.

Yet he retired from football aged 27 after nearly a decade of legendary soccer and packed more life into his 59 years than we can begin to dream of.

George Best, Rogues Corner salutes you!