Low Life | 2 August 2008

‘Gordon, can I have your autograph?’ I said, offering pen and small notebook folded back at a new page. I’d butted into his conversation, but he swung round in his seat and smiled pleasantly up at me and took the pen and notebook and inscribed his name. ‘You’re a great man, Gordon,’ I said, as I looked over his shoulder to watch him write. ‘I was behind the goal that night you saved the Geoff Hurst penalty.’ ‘You’re West Ham, then?’ he said respectfully. ‘I am,’ I said. Gordon Banks OBE returned my pen and notebook and then opened his right palm and presented it to me.

The economy and intimacy of the gesture took me by surprise. This was no formal invitation to shake hands. The gesture was humble and fraternal, as from one lover of football to another. Instead of grasping the palm of the greatest English goalkeeper of the 20th century, however, I could only gaze open mouthed at it.