Some thoughts and memories of Gary Speed

Like the vast majority of people who love football, I found yesterday’s news of the untimely passing of Gary Speed absolutely incomprehensible.

The phone vibrated with a text from a friend, it read simply “Gary Speed dead”. For a second, literally a second, I thought there must be a punchline….before I headed to the computer, my stomach already somewhere in my throat, to seek the horrible confirmation that I knew I would find.

My first assumption, one I am sure was shared by many, was that a man so young, so clearly in good health judging by recent TV appearances, must have succumbed to some terrible accident…a car crash immediately sprung to mind.

The feelings that came over me when I learned the truth were the ones I am still feeling now as I write this; Numbness, disbelief, incredible sadness. I’m not too masculine to admit that I feel choked. When something like this happens, I am sure it is natural for people who can feel some connection to the person involved, either through sport, admiration, or even personal parallels (age, family etc) to be desperate for some answers; how? when? why? On the face of it, none of this makes any sense, and in life, in order to function and feel comfortable in our skin, it is human nature to want the answers to all of life’s questions, to have all the problems sorted into little boxes, with the solutions or explanations to hand.

On this occasion though, more than asking questions of the circumstances surrounding Gary Speed’s death, I have found me asking questions of myself and of the world we live in, our morality and the way we behave as people…..what could possibly lead to a man as seemingly perfect as Gary Speed deciding that he couldn’t bear to face another day? Maybe we will never know the answer to that question, but until we do, it will continue to trouble me greatly.

When you see the reactions of those who knew him best and read the glowing tributes of all those who came into contact with him, it is impossible not to feel  humbled.

As we are all well aware, the phenomenon of ‘faux-sympathy’ and professional grieving almost certainly exists, but in this case, the obviousness of the class and dignity of the man involved leaves no trace of doubt that every word is genuine, and that the game of football has lost a very special son.

Gary Speed was an Evertonian, of that there is no doubt, but for me, the way I have felt over the past 24 hours has little to do with any affiliation to our club….it is purely down to the respect and admiration I feel for a player and a man who, all too rarely in the age we live, could be considered a real credit to his profession and a role-model in the truest sense. The last time I felt such overwhelming sadness and regret at the passing of  a member of the football family, I wrote about Keith Alexander. Before Keith, Sir Bobby Robson. From a personal point of view, anyone who knows the love and respect I had for Bobby Robson for so many years would tell you that there is no greater compliment I could pay to Gary than to say that I hold him in similar regard.

As a fan, I was privileged enough to have seen almost every game Gary Speed played in an Everton shirt, as the nigh-on two-years he spent with us were amongst some of my most ardent days as a match-going Evertonian.

Following the 1995 FA Cup success and an encouraging 95/96 league campaign thereafter, Speed’s arrival was meant to herald the start of a brave new dawn for Everton Football Club, a move away from ‘the dogs of war’ that had served us so well, and a step in the direction of a more progressive, eye-catching, brand of football. With Gary’s movie-star looks we may well have achieved the first goal, but sadly for Evertonians the dreams of a successful team playing a more expansive brand of football never transpired, and an all too familiar dive back towards serious flirtation with the relegation zone was once again to become our reality.

It was throughout these troubled times though, that I came to see a very different Gary Speed to the one I had only casually watched from afar at Leeds United.

Whilst the same technique, style and elegance was there in abundance, I had my eyes opened to a player who’s heart, bravery and commitment to the cause belied his boyish good-looks.

Along with the great goals, the trademark late-arrivals in the box and bullet-headers that Speedo was scoring when Tim Cahill was knee-high to a grasshopper, here was a man willing to roll his sleeves up, work himself into the floor for 90 minutes, and quite literally give blood for the cause.

It was no surprise when Howard Kendall named him captain for the 1997-98 season, as the professionalism that Gary Speed showed throughout his career, along with his understated ‘lead-by-example’ style, marked him out as an obvious candidate with some of the more senior and established players looking far less certain starters on a weekly basis.

Despite another horrific campaign that would only see the team retain Premier League status on the final day of the season – minus Gary following a well-publicised departure for Newcastle United in the February of ’98 in light of some extraordinarily trying times at the club – it was during this season that a moment occurred that will ensure Gary Speed forever lives on in my memory. Quite simply, my favourite and most satisfying moment as an Evertonian to date.

It was on the 20th of December, 1997, at Filbert Street Leicester. Not having won an away league fixture for a calender year (yes, imagine that now…you can’t!), I somehow managed to ‘keep the faith’ – my regular away-day companion having bailed out in despair for the first time since the start of that winless run – and was rewarded for making the arduous train journey alone as a teenager with joy unconfined as Speedo tucked away an unbelievably pressured 90th minute penalty to send me back home with the rest of the Blues wearing a smile from ear to ear.

Whilst that game will always stay with me as a personal triumph, in standing strong and loyal in adversity, I will never forget the feeling I had when he spotted that ball. I knew he was going to score, I have never been surer of anything in my life. Maybe I was kidding myself, but I remember it vividly. It meant so much, but inside I was calm…I just KNEW that he wouldn’t let me down. I am sure we have all had those ‘gut’ feelings when a player has an important penalty, but believe me, at the time..there had never been one more important than this, it quite literally meant the absolute world to everyone who was there that day.

Having missed his last one, just 2 weeks earlier against his old side at Elland Road, it took some real bottle to take the ball, at that time in a game, with rumours of his future already abound, and show the professionalism and responsibility that many lesser men would have happily passed on at that point.

He didn’t though, he did what Gary Speed always did as a player. He stood up to be counted, he showed the utmost respect and commitment to the shirt, and he gave his all until the very last second.

For all the great goals he scored over his magnificent career, the volleys, the hat-trick against Southampton, the salmon-like back post headers….it will always be that penalty that stays with me above all else. Given what Gary Speed was about, what fans of every club he played for would tell you about him, then I really wouldn’t want it any other way. For me, no goal or moment could better epitomise the characteristics that made him what he was.

It is fitting that the next senior Everton fixture is back at Goodison Park, and despite some of the ‘pleas’ some people have felt the need to post on various parts of the internet for the occasion to be respected…I know for a cast-iron fact that the Evertonians will give one of their own the glorious send-off that he so richly deserves.

Rest in Peace Gary, you’ll never be forgotten.