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Date: Tue Jun 02 23:24:13 GMT+00:00 1998
Mail: barry@www.red11.org

Just announced on GMR - the FA have agreed to United's request that the
Charity Shield kick-off time should be brought forward to give United
longer to prepare for the Champions' League qualifier 3 days later.  The
official date and kick-off time is therefore:

Sunday August 9th.  Kick-off 1pm

This Issue:
1. Bolton Deny United Offer (TeamTalk)
2. Duncan Edwards

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Date:         Tue, 2 Jun 1998 19:31:02 +0800
Reply-To: Red Devil Marcus 
Sender: "Manchester United Football Club (soccer)"
              
From: Red Devil Marcus 
Subject:   Bolton Deny United Offer (TeamTalk)


Bolton Deny United Approach

Despite increased speculation that the Reds are poised to seal a deal for
Alan Thompson in the next 48 hours, Wanderers boss Colin Todd is adamant
that as yet, he has had no contact with Alex Ferguson.
Todd admits that other clubs have made firm enquiries, Leeds, Aston Villa
and Spurs the likely candidates.

However Colin Todd refuses to rule out the possibility of United making a
move and the bidding would start at £3.5 million. A move to Old Trafford for
the Bolton hero Thompson, certainly wouldn't go down well with the Bolton
fans!



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Date:         Tue, 2 Jun 1998 22:20:45 +1000
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From: Coppack 
Subject:      Duncan Edwards
To: MUFC@LISTSERV.INDIANA.EDU

Fellow Reds,
        Haven't written much for a while so I thought I would share with you an
article or two which I found whilst reading the magnificent football book
"A Game of 2 Halves". It is truly one of the best compilations of football
writings ever with articles dating back to last century and written by some
greats like Danny Blanchflower, Cliff Bastin, Denis Law and other famous
writers such as Nick Hornby, Hugh McIlvanney, Tony Blair (well, not a
writer) and Hunter Davies among others. If you don't have it I would
strongly recommend it as it contains over 500 pages of football writings. I
apologise for any spelling mistakes as I have to type these out myself from
the book and am doing so at a quick pace.

Here are two atricles focusing on the great Duncan Edwards. May his memory
live forever.


DUNCAN EDWARDS - Geoffrey Green

How can one measure the loss of life of one person as against another? All,
in some degree, should be considered equal. Yet when Duncan Edwards died in
the Munich aircrash of February 1958 at the tender age of twenty-one he
seemed to symbolise the famous word of George Orwell that some people are
more equal than others. Edwards, without question, was the heaviest loss of
all to English football. A restless powerhouse, he was a dynamic player who
ate, slept, dreamed and loved football. A member of the Manchester United
'Busby Babes' of 1955-58 he was one of a team in the process of developnig
into the finest club side that Britain perhaps had ever produced. Cut off
in its prime as it was, no one can ever prove that point. Yet the critics
were unamimous - even Matt Busby himself - that the young United at the
time the fates struck could have gone on to dominate both the English and
European scenes for the next decade or so. And certain it is that Duncan
Edwards, had he survived, would have captained England to the World Cup in
1966.

Height 5 ft 11 in, 13 stone in weight, he was all muscle. INdeed, when I
first saw him at an early age, I felt there was a danger of him becomng
muscle-bound. But sheer drive, hard training and hard work, plus a
limitless enthusiasm kept him within bounds. At heart he was always just a
boy, full of fun, spirit and loyalty and a great favourite wherever he
went. Once when Busby called him to his office to tell him that the local
Manchester schools were playing a five-a-side competition and could Edwards
come to present the cup, Duncan's first remark was: "Sure boss. And can I
play in it too?"  "Certainly not you great bully!" replied Busby, with an
understandable smile. Once, too, in the summer tour of 1955 the England
team had an afternoon off to watch a bullfight in Madrid. Afterwards
Edwards pretended to be the bull: I played the part of the matatdor. As I
was still wafting my handkerchief as if it were the cape, the 'bull' struck
me amidships like some tornado. Sent flying, I broke a finger  and to this
day the swollen joint reminds me of that splendid young-spirited man who
would have so flourished in the Elizabethan age.

Edawards, indeed - the master of the forty or fifty yard pass - played like
a tornado, attacking, defending, always wanting to be at the eye of the
storm. Many were the great goals he scored too, as he pounded forward on a
solo run like a runaway tank to release a shell from the edge of the
penalty-area that would have penetrated a steel wall. Two of these, in
particular, still burn holes in the pocket of memory - in the Olympic
Stadium, Berlin, 1956, against Germany, the reigning World Champions; at
Wembley, 1957, against Scotland. England won 3-1 and 2-1 respectively and
each time it was Edwards, ploughing through the defence like a battleship
in high seas, who rammed home a twenty-yard broadside. Beyond all this
Edwards could play almost anywhere besides his normal position of left
half. For United he appeared also at centre-half, inside-left and
cetre-forward, always with an appetite for goals. In 1955, when Artyeo was
injured at centre-forward in an Under 23 internatinal against Scotland,
Edwards switched forward frm left-half and crashed home four goals.

What more can one say of a young man who played only four full seasons in
first-class football? Even the stars may finally have not been beyond his
reach. By the age of sixteen he had broken into the first-division; by
seventeen he was in the England 'B' and Under 23 teams; at eighteen and a
half he became the youngest player ever to gain a full England cap. At
nineteen he won his first league Championship medal and at twenty he played
in a Cup final. Three months before his death a panel of leading sports
writers in Europe voted him third in their international order of merit -
behind Di Stefano and Billy Wright. His talent, his energy, his
unselfconscious fun and enjoyment of the chase, his ability to amke
everything seem possible, all this added up to a volcano of excitement that
grpped the crowds and the game wherever he played. For three weeks he
fought for his life in a coma. But in the end the gods loved him more.

                                                from SOCCER IN THE FIFTIES 1974




THE FUNERAL OF DUNCAN EDWARDS - Arthur Hopcraft

Edward's funeral took place at St Francis' Church, Dudley, not far from his
home. There were at least 5,000 people outside the curch. The vicar made it
a footballer's service. He said: "He goes to join the memorable company of
Alex James and Steve Bloomer." Had he lived long enough Edwards would
surely have joined the company of England team captains. Instead he left a
memory of brillance and courage and a sense of vast promise he was not
allowed to fulfil.

His grave in Dudley cemetery is elaborate. The headstone has an ingrained
picture of him in football kit holding a ball above his head for a
throw-in. An inscription reads. "A day of Memory, sad to recall, Without
Farewell, He Left Us All." There are three flower stands, and one of them
is in the shape of a football. It suits the nature of his class and
neighbourhood, and is attended by his father, a gardener at the cemetery.

HIs father, Mr Gladstone Edwards, felt he had to explain why he was working
at the cemetery. He said: "People think I came to this job because he's
there. But that wasn't the reason. I had to change my work, and I've always
liked flowers and gardening. I felt I wanted to be out of doors." Duncan
was his only child.

Neither he nor his wife could hide the depth of their loss. Nor was there
any reason why they should try. When I went to see them Duncan Edwards had
been dead for nine years, and Mr Edwards, at least, could talk about his
son straightforwardly, although all the time with a quiet deliberation. He
said that even then there was still a steady trickle of visitors to
Duncan's grave. There were days when twenty people would arrive to look at
it, like pilgrims.  They seldon know that the gardener they stopped to talk
to was the player's father. They nearly always said the same thing: that
there would never be another Duncan. Mr Edwards added that Friday often
brought the most visitors, and they were often lorry drivers with
Manchester accents. They had stopped on their long run home from somewhere
south. The next day, of course, they would be at Old Trafford to watch the
match.

In Mr and Mrs Edwards' small, semi-detached house the front room is shaded
and spotless. It was in
here that Mr Edwards showed me Duncan's photograph album, and also let me
open a glass-fronted display cabinet and examine the memories of Duncan's
life. It contained eighteen of his caps at full international, youth and
schoolboy level, to represent the eighteen times that he played in his
country's senior team. Each was kept brushed and was filled inside with
tissuue paper. On top of the cabinet were three framed photographs of
Duncan: one taken in uniform when he was in the Army, doing his National
Service, another with his finacee and a third in which he wears a
Manchester United shirt. Beside them was a framed five pound note, which
was the last present he gave to his mother. The tiny room was dominated by
a portrait of Edwards in his England shirt, the frame two feet wide by
two-and-a-half long. The room was a shrine.

That showcase also had a copy of the order of service which was used on the
day that the two stained-glass windows were dedicated to Edward's at St
Francis Church. They are close to the front, beside a picture of a gentle
Jesus which was given to the church by a mother, in memory of a baby girl.
One of the windows has Edwards down on one knee and there is a scroll
running across his chest which says" "God is with us for our Captain." All
the survivors of the Munich crash were in the church when the windows were
dedicated by the Bishop of Worcester in August 1961. Busby said at the
service: "These windows should keep the name of Duncan Edwards alive
forever, and shine as a monument and example to the youth of Dudley and
England."


              from THE FOOTBALL MAN 1971




             
 
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