Men, women, young and old, just like the assassination of Kennedy, everyone knew where they were when they heard the news: The Manchester United plane has crashed!
I was brought up on stories of the Busby Babes. In adolescence I probably heard more of the tale from my paternal grandmother. Sunday afternoons spent in her little pensioner-home, where clear recollections of someone who wasn’t much of a football fan at all, impressed on me how important this special and brilliant collection of young men must have been.
The lesson would generally start when watching Brian Moore’s The Big Match, particularly if The Red Devils were on the silver screen.