Miss-Delectable
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http://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/news/features/story.jsp?story=671482
Old Trafford is the Mecca of most young boys' dreams and, when my son was about 12, he and I, along with a group of teenage deaf lads who had been talking about this for months, booked berths on the overnight steamer before catching the train for Manchester to watch United play Liverpool.
In those days - before cheap flights - there was no alternative to the two-day journey and, as Old Trafford had not yet become an all-seater stadium, the cheap tickets we bought got us standing room at one end of the ground near the touchline.
It was drizzling as the match started and I worried about my charges, but suddenly George Best came racing up very near us with the ball and with a piece of incredible trickery swerved round two of the Liverpool backs and passed for a goal. The boys danced with delight and the rain didn't seem to matter any more.
This moment of magic has stayed with David and the deaf boys through all their growing-up years, and at the funeral tomorrow, thousands of others lucky enough to have watched George in his heyday will no doubt also be sharing memories of the wonderful mixture of sublime skill and charisma that created our most famous Ulsterman.
Football is basically a simple game and my wife describes it scathingly as 22 men running after a wee ball! The genius of George Best was in endowing it with film star status.
My school pals and I often played football in the park with nothing but our coats for goal posts and it is the one game that has retained the affection of our young deaf through all the changes of the past 20 years.
But despite the enthusiasm and skill with which our deaf men - and women - play the game, it is always noticeable that in the hearing world we never manage to reach levels above that of church or club.
I discussed this with Eamon McCaffrey, chair of the Ulster Deaf Sports Association, and he lent me a book that tried to throw some light on the situation.
According to the book, deaf men of exceptional ability have been given trials at some of our top clubs and the reason for their leaving early has had nothing to do with being unable to hear the referee's whistle or respond to the coaches instructions or cries from other players. The writer puts it all down to the deaf person's inability to fit into the social life after the games.
The game lasts only 90 minutes, but the banter in the dressing rooms, baths and at after-match dinners become a big strain when communication is a problem and you see your teammates laughing and joking together and seemingly ignoring you.
When this happens every week and you feel more and more isolated, it becomes difficult to retain your fervour and your enthusiasm wanes.
Did something similar happen to George? He had no hearing problem, of course, but it is probably quite true to say that his social life became more important to him than the weekly round of training. As his fame grew and his circle of friends outside the game expanded, did he walk out on the game at the unbelievably early age of 26 because his enthusiasm had simply melted away?
Old Trafford is the Mecca of most young boys' dreams and, when my son was about 12, he and I, along with a group of teenage deaf lads who had been talking about this for months, booked berths on the overnight steamer before catching the train for Manchester to watch United play Liverpool.
In those days - before cheap flights - there was no alternative to the two-day journey and, as Old Trafford had not yet become an all-seater stadium, the cheap tickets we bought got us standing room at one end of the ground near the touchline.
It was drizzling as the match started and I worried about my charges, but suddenly George Best came racing up very near us with the ball and with a piece of incredible trickery swerved round two of the Liverpool backs and passed for a goal. The boys danced with delight and the rain didn't seem to matter any more.
This moment of magic has stayed with David and the deaf boys through all their growing-up years, and at the funeral tomorrow, thousands of others lucky enough to have watched George in his heyday will no doubt also be sharing memories of the wonderful mixture of sublime skill and charisma that created our most famous Ulsterman.
Football is basically a simple game and my wife describes it scathingly as 22 men running after a wee ball! The genius of George Best was in endowing it with film star status.
My school pals and I often played football in the park with nothing but our coats for goal posts and it is the one game that has retained the affection of our young deaf through all the changes of the past 20 years.
But despite the enthusiasm and skill with which our deaf men - and women - play the game, it is always noticeable that in the hearing world we never manage to reach levels above that of church or club.
I discussed this with Eamon McCaffrey, chair of the Ulster Deaf Sports Association, and he lent me a book that tried to throw some light on the situation.
According to the book, deaf men of exceptional ability have been given trials at some of our top clubs and the reason for their leaving early has had nothing to do with being unable to hear the referee's whistle or respond to the coaches instructions or cries from other players. The writer puts it all down to the deaf person's inability to fit into the social life after the games.
The game lasts only 90 minutes, but the banter in the dressing rooms, baths and at after-match dinners become a big strain when communication is a problem and you see your teammates laughing and joking together and seemingly ignoring you.
When this happens every week and you feel more and more isolated, it becomes difficult to retain your fervour and your enthusiasm wanes.
Did something similar happen to George? He had no hearing problem, of course, but it is probably quite true to say that his social life became more important to him than the weekly round of training. As his fame grew and his circle of friends outside the game expanded, did he walk out on the game at the unbelievably early age of 26 because his enthusiasm had simply melted away?