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‘The great fallacy is that the game is first and foremost about winning. It is nothing of the kind. The game is about glory. It is about doing things in style, with a flourish, about going out and beating the other lot, not waiting for them to die of boredom.’

DANNY BLANCHFLOWER – THESE WORDS SUM UP BILL NICHOLSON’S FOOTBALLING PHILOSOPHY

When Bill Nicholson left Tottenham in 1974 after 33 years on the payroll, he was eventually paid £10,000 in compensation. The highest annual salary, plus bonuses, he had received was £14,000. He had to go on the dole for a while, until his great friend Ron Greenwood took him on as a consultant at West Ham. Bill was never sacked, he never had a contract with the club, never asked for a pay rise and he never took, or paid out, a ‘bung’.

Each year he would meet the chairman and he would offer him a modest increase, which he always accepted. He didn’t have an agent, or a lawyer, to handle his affairs – he did it man to man. Steve Bell, his son-in-law, said: ‘I never knew how much he was paid, but I was under the impression for much of that time he didn’t earn more than a working man’s salary.’ Bill wasn’t concerned about money, only about how his team performed in front of their fans. He wanted the fans to be excited so that Tottenham’s anthem, ‘Glory, glory, hallelujah’, kept ringing out loud and clear.

As today’s moneymen move in from all around the world and take over the clubs, they want victories and profits, not so much style and class – although if their teams all played like today’s Barcelona side, their reputations would be enhanced. But just as Hungary beat England 6-3 at Wembley on 25 November 1953 to change attitudes about the game, another date emerged to open the eyes of the faithful – Wednesday, 27 May 2009, when Barcelona beat Manchester United 2-0 in the Olympic Stadium in Rome in the final of the Champions League. Josep Guardiola, the young Barcelona coach, spoke of ‘the how being important’. Award-winning sports writer Paul Hayward, now with the Observer, wrote: ‘They [Sir Alex Ferguson’s men] collided with a side substantially more literate in the art of moving and retaining the ball at an intoxicatingly high tempo.’

Tottenham’s Arthur Rowe gave push and run to the world, his successor Bill Nicholson refined it to a new level, and now a generation later it is being played by Barcelona. They are the trendsetters, the ones to copy. Bill was the man who urged Keith Burkinshaw, one of his most loyal successors when he was in charge at White Hart Lane between 1976 and 1984, to buy Ossie Ardiles and Ricky Villa in 1978. Tony Galvin, one of the many players Bill discovered, said recently: ‘He loved Ossie. When Ossie managed the side his team talks consisted [of] only a few words – push, push, attack, attack!’ Arsène Wenger believes in beautiful, winning football too and once said: ‘Life is important on a daily basis because you try to transform it into something that is close to art. And football is like that. When I see Barcelona, to me it is art.’

Contrast that with today’s managers in England with their image rights and their insistent quest for trophies. Some spend more time promoting themselves than coaching at the training ground, so much so that they are bigger names than the artists on the field. Bill was reluctant to give too many interviews to the media after being let down by one journalist who quoted his off-the-record views about a certain player and he probably found it hard to understand the phrase ‘image rights’. To many people, his image was that of a dour, uncommunicative man – but that was a totally false impression. He was cautious about the press because he was more interested in the way football was played than in personalities and their public comments about each other.

Those who knew him well recognise that he was a man of principle and a family man, who was deeply loved and revered. His whole life was conducted in the right way, without courting controversy and without trying to outwit the tax authorities. There is a generation of Tottenham fans who idolised him and it is doubtful that there is another manager in the history of English football who equalled, or bettered, his close affinity with the paying customers. As he often said, ‘The fans pay your wages so don’t let them down.’ Unfortunately the fans don’t pay the players’ wages these days, only part of them. The rest comes mainly from television but also sponsorship, corporate entertainment and other sources.

Nearly all of today’s top managers and players use their image rights to reduce their tax bill. If they earn more than £300,000, they can be taxed at 31 per cent, and 20 per cent under that amount. A manager in the top third of the Premiership can make around £1.5m a year from his image rights. It is looked on as a tax-efficient way to conduct their affairs, but recently the Inland Revenue has been investigating the matter. When it was revealed that Joey Barton, a former jailbird, had earned £675,000 in image rights at Newcastle, they stepped up their inquiries. Had Bill Nicholson been offered image rights, he probably would have turned it down because of his innate honesty; he never cheated anyone and deplored cheating on the field. Today’s managers keep talking around the subject, or even lie. They are similar to politicians and they waffle instead of informing the public, the people who help sustain the game with their cash and their vocal support.

There was no press officer when Bill was manager and his telephone number was easily obtained but he rarely granted interviews over the telephone, telling journalists: ‘I might be available after training, or after the match.’ He was the last manager who said, on occasion, ‘no comment’ when asked a question by a journalist. If a transfer deal was finally concluded, he would confirm it, but not before.

These days, there are three press officers at White Hart Lane and like most of their colleagues at the other leading clubs, they organise the manager’s and players’ interviews to suit the club. Brian James, the former Daily Mail football correspondent who went on most of Tottenham’s trips under Bill, recalled: ‘He was wary of us, but the ones he got to know were the “Okay Men” and he’d talk about football with you. He didn’t tolerate sloppiness and he was very emotional about the game. If he saw a player making an obvious mistake, he would be upset about it. He was a hard taskmaster. I think he had a sense of humour because we sometimes heard him guffawing about something. He wasn’t going to be the star, but he wasn’t that sort of person.’

Some of Bill’s successors make money from their image rights, although their image has been trampled on. A number of managers including Harry Redknapp and Sam Allardyce of Blackburn Rovers have had their affairs investigated by the Crown Prosecution Service. Brian Clough, one of the few who shared Bill’s views about fair play on the field, only missed prosecution because he was terminally ill. Don Revie was an outstanding manager, but he was corrupt.

Recently a Premiership higher-up asked me: ‘How many managers today are like Bill Nicholson?’ It was hard to think of any, apart from perhaps Arsenal’s Arsène Wenger. Bill was one of the last Corinthians in modern-day professional football. After his death in 2004, hundreds of messages were sent to the club and one supporter, David Richardson, said: ‘They say the game now lacks honesty and integrity. It’s true, but understandable. Bill Nick so cornered that market in those virtues that there was none left over for anyone else.’ David Pleat, who managed Tottenham between 1986 and 1987, said: ‘Conscientious is the word I would use to describe Bill. He was one of the very few managers who put his club before himself. Many of today’s managers want to make as much as they can from the game. They’re greedy.’

Today’s rich club owners want properly trained and qualified coaches, often from abroad, which is why fewer English managers are being chosen. Towards the end of Bill’s playing career in 1955, he coached Cambridge University to gain experience and earn some extra money. A number of others did the same but today’s top players are millionaires and don’t need to go into coaching to earn extra cash on the way to becoming a manager. The supply of talent is decreasing at a rapid rate.

Bill had two great inspiring educationalists helping his career: the athletic coach Geoff Dyson, with whom he worked in the Army in Udini, Italy in 1945–6 and Sir Walter Winterbottom, founder of the FA Coaching scheme. He learned a lot about fitness from Dyson and from Winterbottom, the thinking way the game should be played. Bill detested the offside game that so many clubs still employ – pressing up to the halfway line to catch out opposing players. He regarded it as tantamount to cheating. Cliff Jones said: ‘I can’t remember seeing us doing that. Bill wanted to play it simple and quick, and get the ball forward.’

Another Spurs manager, Terry Venables (1987–91), took the offside tactic to a new level and at one game, an opposing manager observed: ‘I see you’ve chalked up 18 free kicks from it today and it must be pretty frustrating for the crowd.’ Terry said: ‘Oh no, our crowd were clapping. They love it.’

Keith Burkinshaw believes Spanish football is the world’s best, far superior to England’s £2 billion Premiership, which paid out £1.2 billion in wages (the agents took £66m) in the season 2007–08. ‘You know why?’ he said, ‘Because their players are extremely fit and they use all the pitch. They use space better than we do and they get far more shots in. It’s more entertaining and Barcelona is the best club side in the world. They’ve got fantastic, skilful players. Bill believed in using space. He told his players to keep possession and use the ball simply and quickly.’

In his trainee days, Bill learned a lot from coaching young, aspiring footballers at Cambridge University. Sports writer David Miller, a right winger who was one of his pupils, wrote in the Daily Telegraph: ‘In the old days many men – schoolmasters, bank managers, doctors, soldiers – were cast in the same Victorian mould as Bill Nicholson: strict but fair, dogmatic but logical, austere but open-hearted, wilful but almost perversely modest. Nicholson was all these, yet additionally a crusader, a man with conviction.

‘His anomalous, almost subconscious mission was to take the bricks of the simple game of football and fashion them into jewels for the benefit of public entertainment. In this pursuit, he devoted a literal lifetime to Tottenham. More even than Matt Busby with Manchester United, Bill Shankly with Liverpool or Jock Stein with Celtic, he was the embryo of Spurs’ greatness during a 16-year reign. A man of unlavish lifestyle, living a convenient short walk from the ground in a semi-detached, he spent the club’s money extravagantly, but shrewdly.

‘With his passing, I confess a light has gone out of my life. In his formative coaching years, he spent an afternoon a week with Cambridge University where, besides working us to the point of physical sickness, he chastisingly entrenched the fundamentals of the game: simplicity, to eliminate error, repetition of moves, to breed familiarity, honest sweat, so as to leave the field wholly spent. He would afterwards share toast and honey round the gas fire back in our digs. He spoke quietly of the game being nothing without integrity and discipline. He had several players who became amateur internationals. We loved him like an uncle and when he brought glory to White Hart Lane, it would be for us no surprise.’

When Bill was at his peak as a manager someone asked him: ‘Why do you still live round the corner? You could live in a mansion out on the outskirts.’ Bill’s reply was: ‘Because I want to get to work on time, that’s important.’ John Pratt, who played for him between 1968 and 1979, said: ‘That was a very apt comment. Bill was never late – first in, last out, and he didn’t waste time travelling.’ Bill had almost total control of Tottenham for 16 years basically because the directors, mainly small-time businessmen, recognised they had little expertise about football and left it to the expert.

But his disillusionment set in by the early seventies when the stock of emerging footballers was in decline and he was forced to try and buy second raters for over-inflated prices. The directors, chairman Sidney Wale, vice chairman Charles Cox, Godfrey Groves and Arthur Richardson and his son Geoffrey, all questioned some of his choices and that, together with the stress he felt after working 16 years, was why he offered his resignation. The Board members were well intentioned but they were not really football people. Terry Neill, whose appointment in place of Bill was greeted with derision by most of the players and the fans, recalled: ‘The board meetings were long, drawn-out affairs and it needed considerable stamina to stay awake. Mr Groves senior sometimes nodded off and as the tea lady came in with the tea and biscuits, conversation stopped, as though they were discussing state secrets.’

In 1984, Bill was persuaded to put his name to an autobiography by Irving Scholar, the Tottenham chairman. The book was entitled Glory, Glory – My Life with Spurs and Harry Harris, my friend and former colleague at the Daily Mail, collaborated with me to compile it. Harry’s ambition was to play for Tottenham and his mother wrote to Bill Nicholson to ask if he would give her son a trial. But Harry never went for the trial because he realised he wasn’t good enough. His prowess was aptly summed up by Malcolm Macdonald when a Football Writers’ team played against QPR staff on the Omniturf, the artificial surface pioneered by Terry Venables at Loftus Road in 1981. Said Malcolm: ‘Some people can kick with one foot, or two, but H can’t kick with either!’

Harry wasn’t a star footballer but he was one of the best news gatherers of his era. He had the same persistence as Vic Railton, the late Evening News football writer, who once got hold of the telephone number of a hotel suite where Sir Matt Busby was presiding over a disciplinary hearing. Vic dialled the number and as Sir Matt picked up the phone, he asked: ‘What’s the verdict, Matt? My deadline is only five minutes away!’ Matt told him the verdict. ‘I admired his cheek,’ he said.

Like Railton, Harry Harris was one of the few journalists who could ring Bill Nicholson on his private line when he started his career at the Tottenham Weekly News. Vic would call Bill’s wife Grace, known to everyone as ‘Darkie’, at 8am on some days and ask with a laugh: ‘Where is that old so-and-so?’ ‘You ought to know,’ Darkie would wryly say, ‘He’s at work as usual.’

In Bill’s first chapter of his autobiography he spelt out his concerns about the future of the game. ‘It is a cornerstone of my beliefs as a player, coach and manager that the basics of the game are all important,’ he said. ‘The simple elements that go to make up a football team, such as passing techniques, striking the ball, controlling and trapping it and movement off the ball, are on the wane today and that makes me feel sad. I watch countless junior matches and trials, and I find there is a lack of players who have these skills.

‘The root cause of the problem is the inadequate preparation at the lower level. The emphasis is on stamina, height and power rather than technique and skill. I always thought that the really gifted footballer – a Jimmy Greaves or a Bobby Moore – was born, not manufactured. However, that type of player still needs to practise his skills. Not enough work is done today by young players. Certainly not enough is done at schools, where matches are overly competitive, physical encounters, which discourage the skill factor. If youngsters don’t have the basic skills, there are no foundations on which to build teamwork. Moves will keep breaking down. It is easier for the other team to defend and the game becomes boring and fragmented.

‘When I was with Tottenham, our approach was to concentrate on attacking football. I was striving for perfection, though rarely achieved it. But as I said to one player who complained, “Look, when I have no interest in you as a footballer, that is the time when you start worrying.” Danny Blanchflower had faults but by working on them he became a better player. No sportsman is so good at his sport that he cannot improve some aspects of it.’

Bill also believed the inflated scale of salaries would ruin the game and he was proved right. ‘I believe the players are taking too much out of the game and not putting enough back in,’ he observed twenty-five years ago, when he went into temporary retirement and worked as a scout for West Ham before Spurs recalled him. ‘Wages rose too quickly and the economies of the clubs became unbalanced. Transfer fees were too high. It is a miracle that 92 Football League clubs still survive. Ultimately, some clubs will go bankrupt.

‘It amazes me that there is nearly always an entrepreneur waiting to come to the rescue of an ailing football club at the time when it is about to go out of business. You seriously question the motives of such people while at the same time being grateful to them for saving a club that serves a great many people in its area. Astronomical wages at a time of recession have created a social gap between players and the man on the terrace. ‘There used to be a time when the spectator could identify with the footballer, who was not earning much more than he was. Today’s players stay in their private lounge before driving off to their homes a fair distance from the ground. Players no longer live round the corner, as I did when I was a player and manager.’

He was suspicious of agents and wanted a curb on their activities. ‘There isn’t as much honesty in the game today as there ought to be,’ he said. ‘Admittedly football is all about competition, but cheating has become intense. The more difficult it becomes to succeed and the more pressure on the manager to be winner, the greater the risk of corruption. An aspect which perturbs me is the payment to managers of a percentage of fees. These rogue managers may prefer to deal with agents as that is a good way of obtaining a cut. I question the morality of such payments.

‘Could some players be transferred at much higher rates than they are worth because of the benefit coming to the manager? There is also the danger of a manager dropping the price for a quick sale because he needs money, so the club may suffer. I believe that these payments – and the agents – should be outlawed. The best managers are not necessarily the ones who finished the season with a trophy. They are many around who succeed in keeping clubs alive against the odds and still entertain, but unfortunately they are not given the recognition they deserve.’

In another prophecy that turned out to be true, he said, ‘Some years ago I told another manager: “The players will soon be running the game.” I believe we are close to that now. The players and their agents make the demands and the clubs are forced to comply. In my day, managers told the players what money they were to be offered. Today it is the reverse. The player and his agent come up with a list of demands and the club has to decide whether it can afford them. If it can’t, the player is touted to another club, often abroad where wages are higher because transfer fees are lower.

‘The money paid to players goes out of the game but money paid in transfer fees circulates among the clubs, keeping them alive.’

He was not strictly accurate about players being sold to clubs abroad and the wages offered by most Continental clubs. Hardly any English players go abroad because few speak another language and technically they are inferior in skills. Premiership clubs can afford to buy the world’s best players and when they are no longer wanted, they sell them off abroad.

No one from the FA, the Football League or the major newspapers of the time made proper efforts to clean up these irregularities and restore some credibility to the game. Twenty-seven years later, little has been done. In many instances, managers have a clause in their contract allowing bonuses if players are sold for big profits and the get-out excuse is ‘well, it’s in the rules’. MPs used the same excuse when they were caught overcharging on their expenses and, like politicians, managers know it’s against the spirit of the game. Most earn enormous salaries, so why do they need the money? Richard Scudamore, chief executive of the Premier League, told Neil Ashton of the News of the World in 2010: ‘I’m convinced the game is clean. We scrutinise transfers more than ever after the Lord Stevens inquiry. Sven-Göran Eriksson claimed corruption in the game was rife, but we did a right trawl and we couldn’t find any compelling evidence.’

Portsmouth’s affairs have been scrutinised on a number of occasions and at the start of the 2009/10 season their chief executive Peter Storrie told a fans’ forum at Fratton Park: ‘We all know that all managers tap players up. It is not right, it’s illegal and it is against the Premier League’s rules, but it happens all the way around.’

‘Tapping up’ players can be traced back to the time when the Football League first kicked off in 1888. The trainers or chairmen of clubs were continually trying to recruit the best players from rival clubs and approaches were usually made secretly through friends, relatives or journalists. In Bill Nicholson’s heyday, one of his best contacts was the Scots football writer Jim Rodger, who had a good appreciation of talent north of the border, but Bill was scrupulously honest about his own transfer deals, always going through the right channels.

Shortly after Storrie made his comments about tapping up, FIFA banned Chelsea from buying players until January 2011 after they signed 18-year-old winger Gael Kakuta from Lens. FIFA has a regulation, Article 17, which prohibits poaching players in these circumstances and two other clubs, Roma and Sion, were also found guilty. Progress has been painfully slow but the worldwide clean-up has now started, with UEFA joining the campaign in 2009 by charging Arsenal’s Eduardo with ‘deceiving the referee’ by diving.

Bill was unerringly correct about the lack of skill of many players, the inflated salaries, the growing gap between the overpaid performers and the supporters, plus the unwholesome activities of many agents. The game was losing its appeal and it was only the intervention of BSkyB, buying up the televised rights at a gigantically high price for the new Premiership when it replaced the old First Division in 1992, that prevented a footballing version of a tsunami. Sky devoted large sums to promoting the product – and it worked. The pendulum swung forward to better grounds, pitches like bowling greens, fitter and stronger players, as well as livelier, more informative coverage. But on the downside, some of the new owners were global entrepreneurs who were running up vast borrowings – almost like Robert Maxwell, who wanted to take over Manchester United but had to settle for Oxford United and then Derby County.

Whereas Maxwell was found out and committed suicide in 1991 before he was charged, today’s owners stay on the right side of the law, but they have still created empires which may collapse, like a number of banks in the latest recession. After Norwich City were relegated at the end of the 2008/9 season Delia Smith, their incorruptible director and leading backer, commented: ‘You can’t run a club and succeed if you are a millionaire, or even a multi millionaire, but only a billionaire.’ Norwich are on the way back, which proves that honesty is still the best way forward.

Bill was critical of the work rate of the players when he spoke in 1984 because his generation of players, most of whom served in the Armed Forces, were subject to severe discipline. If they slacked, they were put on jankers (punishment duties). His generation has now passed by. They grew up kicking tennis balls against a wall to master the art of control and played in small-size kickabouts in the streets or on patches of grass. Their successors have less self-discipline and money has tended to corrupt some of them.

‘A footballer is now in a different class from that of the man who pays his wages,’ said Bill. ‘Some people argue that they should be paid a relatively low basic with higher bonuses related to success. In a sense, that already happens. They even get a bonus for staying up. My argument is that the only real incentive for players is to seek to play to the best of their ability in every game because of sheer pride of performance and personal satisfaction.

‘There are times when I see highly paid players taking a breather and that angers me. They have no pride in their performance. Ninety minutes isn’t a long time to be running about, but some want to take it easy. They are cheating themselves, their teammates, their employers and the public. Managers in Italy fine players for not trying and there is no reason why it should not happen here, because the contract of service specifies that a player must play to the best of his ability. There were times when I accused my players of not trying, but I never fined them. I would leave them out of the side, if need be.

‘There is no reason why the gifted players shouldn’t work hard for the whole of the game. That is one of the problems of the game today: they do not work hard enough. Players soon become complacent and many will duck out of work, if given the chance. Often I was accused of not handing out praise, or concentrating more on finding fault. I may not have complimented players after matches, but I did it on the training pitch. That is the place where I experienced my greatest happiness in the game. That is where great football teams are produced and to achieve that goal, much work is needed.’

Bill was one of the first to ask a centre forward to take over as a centre half, reversing roles to understand the other man’s approach; he believed in wide, attacking players to open up defences and he was in favour of flexible formations. He advocated the use of the now outdated WM formation – four rows of men; three defenders at the back, two defensive wing halves, two attacking inside forwards and a centre forward with two wingers. ‘It means a more open game,’ he said. ‘It is very fluid and the man off the ball has to be the playmaker, the man who dictates the next move.’

These days many of the big clubs use only one striker, a sign that the game has retreated because of the fear of defeat. Cliff Jones, the youngest-looking of the 1960/1 Double survivors, said: ‘Bill knew more about the game than anyone in it.’

Some commentators called him grumpy, but his observations have proved spot-on. He forecast a top four or five Super League at the top, including Liverpool, Manchester United, Arsenal and Tottenham, making it extremely hard for the other clubs to survive. He was wrong about Spurs and should have anticipated the arrival of Roman Abramovich at Chelsea. It was more convenient, and often cheaper, for managers to import foreign, ready-made players instead of rearing their own English players, and now less than 40 per cent of the Premiership’s stars are available to be picked by England. These players, particularly those from Africa, work harder because of their poor background and have more skill, and so the overall standard of matches has gone up. Not many of them drink alcohol either. Too many of the young English players still make exhibitions of themselves, in and outside of night clubs and bars, disgracing their profession. Bill insisted that his players showed respect to the referee at all times and if he was alive today he would probably condemn Wayne Rooney’s rushing up to supporters and twice screaming ‘F*** off!’ in a weird ‘celebration’ of a hat-trick in April 2011.

After yet another instance in 2009 – when Tottenham’s Ledley King was charged with assaulting a 22-year-old bouncer – Harry Redknapp said he was in favour of a ban at White Hart Lane. He condemned David Bentley’s latest car crash (luckily, no one was injured) and he told the Mail on Sunday: ‘Just ask anyone who has lost someone in an accident. In 1990, I lost my best mate [Bournemouth’s Brian Tiler] and four people got killed because a young kid was drunk and driving the other car.’

Bill Nicholson drank, but always in moderation. He entertained his many relatives and friends at home, not in pubs or clubs. As an essentially private person, he preferred to spend his time at home rather than being in the limelight. Foreign players are taught at a young age to avoid alcohol and most of them follow this advice but there is still a big drinking culture in English football and the Premiership continues to give out bottles of champagne to their Men of the Match. A better idea would be a cheque, which the Man of the Match would be asked to present to a hospice or school. Not everyone drinks in football, though. One exception is Owen Coyle, the Scots manager of Bolton. ‘I’ve never had a drop,’ he admits.

Many millions watch Premiership matches around the world and it is the most-watched league of any country. Bill would certainly agree with Harry Redknapp about the decline in the number of English footballers available to be selected for their country, which is reflected in the international side’s results. In 2007/8 the top clubs had debts of £3 billion and Michel Platini, the UEFA President, talked sense when he said: ‘There is anarchy and I want to save many clubs from bankruptcy because when the TV rights stop in England, what happens?’

Throughout his life Bill was known as a perfectionist and his daughter Linda confirmed this: ‘Definitely. He never deflected from that. He wanted us to do our very best and when I started to learn to drive a car, I sometimes parked the car six inches or so from the kerb. He told me it should be two inches, not six, and I had to do it.

‘His lawn was immaculate and he put a lot of care and love into it, and it was like a putting green. We had a beautiful garden and it was his pride and joy. He had our putters close to hand so we could practise our putting skills. You couldn’t blame the lawn for a bad shot as Dad spent a lot of time nurturing it to perfection. He had one of those old push lawn mowers that cut the grass beautifully and it was probably his way of relaxing.

‘He was a loving father who brought us up the right way and we were very proud of him. There were things he expected from us, like giving a hand in the house. He was a real Yorkshireman and believed that certain things were the women’s responsibility, although he nearly always did the washing up. He used to whistle or sing when he was washing the dishes and we’d be drying them with the best tea towels. Sometimes we’d all sing along together, which made it a lot of fun.

‘He really was a very happy person at home. I failed my GCE in English one year and that disappointed him, and he said he wouldn’t pay for driving lessons until I did it. When I passed, he always came out with me until I passed the driving test. He gave us a time for coming home at night and he was very fair about it. He expected us to take a Saturday and summer job to teach us the value of money. He didn’t give us pocket money as such – we had to earn it. But if it was a special event and we told him about it, he would give us the money to go. When he came back from his football trips, he would bring back presents and we have lots of them still around. He certainly didn’t spoil us.

‘He took us to matches, particularly the big matches. We preferred sitting high in the back of the stand and we didn’t see him until he got home. Sometimes we went to Cheshunt, the training ground. Afterwards we would be talking about the game and giving our views, and sometimes he’d say, “You’re talking rubbish!” He didn’t take his worries home. If we won, the atmosphere was fantastic. He thought it was important to be playing sport. He didn’t mind what sport it was as long as you played something and he encouraged his grandchildren to play sport.

‘When Spurs lost he wouldn’t dwell on it. He’d get the cards out to play – he loved solo. Very often we would have ten or more people round for dinner and they were happy family occasions. If he was ill, he would go into the ground and I can only remember one occasion when he was really sick and had to stay in bed for a day. Even then, he was on the phone talking about his work. He was a very fit man and he liked walking home to and from the ground, and when people spoke to him, he would always have a chat – he never ignored anyone.’

Andrea Fraser, a fan, recalled: ‘My dad had a sweet shop near White Hart Lane in the late seventies and Bill was a regular customer. He would stand in the shop for ages, chatting to my dad about football. My dad felt his comments were valued by Bill and that gave him the biggest buzz, as you can imagine; he was my dad’s hero. Bill loved the club with all his heart. He is one of the few managers, past and present, who genuinely respected the fans’ views.’

One of the most-quoted of Bill’s remarks was uttered at Linda’s wedding in 1970, when he said: ‘I never saw her growing up.’ It seemed to suggest he was guilty of neglecting Jean and Linda. ‘He did say that and it was true,’ recalls Linda. ‘He had tears in his eyes when he said it to Mum and he was a pretty emotional man. I think we were both a bit anxious but I was so happy to have him beside me on the journey to the church, even though he told me not to fiddle with the flowers as I’d spoil them! His life revolved around football and football was always first. And he missed a number of events at our schools but living nearby, he sometimes popped home more than most football managers, like lunch times. He was a wonderful father.’

So how would Bill Nicholson fare today, managing one of the global clubs owned by corporation tycoons who know little of the game? One of his club’s best-known internationals from a previous generation, said: ‘He would have found it very difficult, basically because players today have great egos. You can’t speak to them the way Bill spoke to his players.’