Had Sir Bobby not survived in Munich, he would still have been remembered in the same breath as his hero, Duncan Edwards, as a majestically talented athlete cut down before his prime. Instead, given a miraculous second chance, he not only fulfilled the footballing destiny for which he had been earmarked, not only while carrying the burden of his fallen friends’ memories, but he also went on to live the fullest of lives away from the spotlight. He became all which was denied his perished friends: marriage, parenthood and grandparenthood; he lived the life they were all so cruelly denied.
We knew that he had lived the professional dream to its fullest, becoming an icon of one of world sport’s greatest institutions long before he passed away, but behind it all was the home life which gave him even greater pleasure. A life well-lived requires hard work, heartache and selflessness, whether as a professional footballer, a father or a grandfather, and at Manchester Cathedral we bade farewell to someone who set the standard on all fronts.
It was only in his absence that we got to see the real Sir Bobby Charlton – a man known for his unquestionable greatness, but defined by his absolute goodness.