My memories of Jack Charlton go back as far as I can recall football.
From being simply Bobby’s brother to gangly, dominant centre-half in Don Revie’s ultra-professional but talented Leeds team, to winning Middlesbrough promotion in his first management role and finally as the man who changed the sporting landscape of Ireland for ever.
The Giraffe, my father declared one afternoon, was Jack’s nickname. No explanation needed. A basic label and it fitted perfectly. By then, Leeds had become my most disliked team. I wasn’t the only one. A cynical veneer concealed a really talented side.