Duncan Edwards - Forever Young

By Gerry Buckley

Occasionally in life, planes (one), tubes (two), trains (three), and buses (two) are worth it to tick off a longstanding bucket list item for a sports fanatic.

As part of two days in England to attend the London v Westmeath clash in the Tailteann Cup on Sunday May 18 in Ruislip – the post-match buzz in the clubhouse among the Lake County diaspora was uplifting – this scribe got the thumbs up from my lady friend of exactly ten years, Emer, to finish off our celebratory (romantic!) break by heading on Monday to the little-known town of Dudley in the English west midlands to pay homage to a footballer whose short – but brilliant – career has always fascinated me.

Some people think I have a decent sporting memory, but 17-months-old Gerry was oblivious to the infamous Munich air disaster of February 6, 1958 which shocked the world. Undoubtedly, the most poignant loss among the 23 players, officials and journalists was the incomparable 21-year-old prodigy Duncan Edwards, who passed away 15 days after the crash, when he was expected to survive if unlikely ever to play again.

Reading his biography, ‘Eternal’, by Wayne Barton, further fuelled my curiosity in recent years. There were three destinations in my mind, but two out of three ain’t bad and we wrote off finding St Francis Church which contains two stained glass windows commemorating the town’s greatest hero. Other churches seemed to be locked, so we gave that a miss. Indeed, the local word was that funds are being sought to cure the rot in the old church. Incidentally, I have since been told that Big Sam (Allardyce), the former player and manager, and comedian Lenny Henry, are also Dudley natives. Even Lenny at his most hilarious wouldn’t dream of putting Sam and Duncan in remotely the same category as footballers!

The statue in the centre of the town was fascinating, with quotes on either side from Jimmy Murphy (the Manchester United assistant manager who didn’t travel to the ill-fated match in Belgrade due to double-jobbing as Welsh manager) and the legendary Sir Bobby Charlton, respectively reading: “The most complete footballer I have ever seen”, and “The only player who ever made me feel inferior”. Incidentally, everybody we spoke to looking for information was pleasantness personified, including a lovely lady called Deborah who saw us at the monument and was only too delighted to tell us she had lived in the original Edwards homestead some years back!

Thankfully, some googling saved a trawl through seemingly endless headstones in the huge graveyard (another bus!) and it felt emotional to be at his grave, now sealed off but still laden with Red Devils’ memorabilia and fresh flowers. His only sibling, Carol Anne, is also in the plot, having died at the age of 14 weeks, while their parents Gladstone (died 1978, aged 70) and Sarah Ann (died 2003, aged 93) are just a few plots away.

Those much older than 17 months on that fateful day who saw Duncan in the flesh tell me he could head the ball, tackle, had two great feet, was equally comfortable in midfield or defence, and occasionally when playing up front, and he could also score. Pretty much the perfect player. Indeed, to tie in my two careers, I have always labelled him, ‘Paul McGrath plus VAT’!

And sure it only took two more buses and a train to get to Birmingham airport to round off our ‘romantic’ weekend!