Keegan: legend, messiah, great human being

 A superstar at both Liverpool and Newcastle, Kevin Keegan was unlucky that his prime coincided with England’s lowest ebb or he might have illuminated the World Cup too. He will be sorely missed.

Disbelief was the first reaction. Some people simply shouldn’t die and Kevin Keegan had a lofty place in the pecking order.

Then there was the timing. It felt like an attempt to conceal bad news by coinciding with a big event.

And there’s nothing bigger than the World Cup Final.

We knew he had cancer, but felt sure he’d beat it. If anyone could, Kev could.

When it came to positivity, he was out on his own. He once said: “Everything I turn up to, I think I’m going to enjoy. I don’t have regrets.”

But it was true: the Mighty Mouse had roared his last.

The date only added poignancy. Keegan had a sad history with the World Cup: he’d only ever played in it for 26 minutes as a substitute and missed a sitter.

His prime came when England were at their lowest ebb, failing to qualify for the 1974 and 1978 finals.

But for that fleeting cameo in 1982, he would have joined the stellar names never to grace the competition: among them Alfredo di Stefano, George Best, Laszlo Kubala, Eric Cantona, George Weah.

That was the sort of company he kept.

But if the biggest tournament had all but eluded him, he more than made up for it in club football.

He won almost every honour in the club game, including the Ballon d’Or twice, the only British player to do so. He’s also a member of the Fifa 100, a list of the best players chosen by Pele.

But few of those would have been longer shots for stardom than this slightly-built, pub team player from Doncaster, England.

By his own admission, the “least talented” Ballon d’Or winner, he often called himself “a weasel” or “a mongrel”. His touch was not velvet, his pace not electric, while George Best said he was “not fit to lace my boots.” He didn’t disagree.

He was also just 1.73m short and had been rejected by hometown club Doncaster Rovers. He left school with two O levels and worked as a tea boy at a brass works.

But nearby Scunthorpe took him on, and he built up his stamina running up the stadium steps with dumbbells and did a 50-mile run to prepare himself for training.

Bill Shankly got to hear of him and saw something of himself in the miner’s son. He threw him in at the deep end and lit a fire in his belly.

Shankly told him: “Son, just go out there and drop some hand grenades.”

Twelve minutes into his debut, one exploded. He introduced himself with a goal against Nottingham Forest and never looked back.

It was at Liverpool where he made his name, winning the European Cup and scoring 100 goals in his 323 games.

He always maintained “everything I became in football started with Bill Shankly.” He gave one example: ‘If I was a road-sweeper,’ said the great man, ‘my street would be the cleanest in the borough’. I took that to heart.”

Much later, when Keegan found the Newcastle training ground in a mess on his return, he heeded the advice by paying for it to be cleaned out of his own pocket rather than wait for the club to do it.

But he was also renowned for his generosity. In Malaysia, he is said to have tipped a taxi driver RM500, while the drinks for my “quick chat” with him that lasted two hours on his last visit, were also on him.

Keegan not only endeared himself to the Kop but the country, becoming a celebrity in the still-swinging Seventies. And was one of the first footballers to realise his commercial potential.

In Britain, he went on Top of the Pops, had an infamous bubble perm, and seemed as irrepressible off the field as he was on it. He became what Best might have been: rich and famous without the baggage.

He married the girl he met at a dance when she was 16 and he was 19, and stayed married. He was a more wholesome version of Best and a mother-in-law’s dream, apart, perhaps, from the perm. But his career would not be plain sailing.

He stunned Liverpool by leaving for Hamburg, where he quadrupled his salary, but paid a price when teammates resented his wealth.

Typically, he rose to the challenge, learned German, led them to the title and won them over. And it was they who dubbed him the Mighty Mouse.

But Brian Clough’s Forest denied him another European Cup until the following year, after which he returned to England at Southampton, of all places, before finally going to Newcastle.

He scored on his debut there, too, and jumped into the Gallowgate End. “I just wanted to stay there forever,” he said. He was treated as a messiah when he went back as manager.

From almost dropping to the third tier, he looked set to win the title until pipped by Alex Ferguson’s Manchester United. It was after the celebrated “Love it” meltdown.

In between, there was Fulham, England and Manchester City and another mixed bag. He got both clubs promoted but found the Three Lions tougher to tame.

A low moment was when he resigned in the toilets after defeat by Germany in the last game at the old Wembley.

Loved on Tyneside even more than on Merseyside, and after guest appearances for Malaysia, he’s not forgotten on “Klang-side” either.

A self-made superstar but above all a down-to-earth character.

What makes him special is that there’s agreement on that, too: he was not only a great player but a great human being.

Of a zillion such stories, The Times tells of him meeting a stranger who thanks him for all the enjoyment he brought to the people of Newcastle.

The man gets a quick chat, picture and a thank you. Keegan tells him: “No matter how much you enjoyed it, son, you didn’t enjoy it as much as me.” - FMT

The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of MMKtT.