Jack Charlton is the second equal of my favourite football managers of all time: the other being Brian Clough. I picked up Charlton's autobiography at a DIY shop as they were selling second hand books to raise money for red nose day earlier this year.

Jack was born in Ashington, Northumberland into a mining community and even though he spent a few weeks down the pit, he refused to carry on and if football hadn't become his life then an outdoor country life would have. He still shoots and fishes in his spare time and good luck to him.

Life in Ashington was difficult for him and his family and whilst his mother was a football fan his father never was. Even when both Charlton brothers made it in the footballing world, the father wouldn't go running in the way that his mother did. Still, each to his own.

The Charlton story is rich: he made his way into the Leeds United first team, the only club team he played for professionally, relatively early for a lad at that time and didn't break into the England team in a meaningful way until he was around 30 years old.

Charlton was part of the Don Revie Leeds set up and that was the time when Leeds was the force to be reckoned with in English club football. They won or came second in everything for years. They were a big club by all standards.

Be that as it may, Charlton could have retired from football at the end of his playing career and still have been fondly remembered by the likes of me but then his career took an excellent turn: he became a manager.

Charlton joined Middlesbrough as manager as soon as he retired from Leeds and his interview was a fascination. He writes that he was invited for interview and duly attended. After listening to and answering their questions for a few minutes he said, hang on, I came here to see if I wanted the job, not to be grilled like this. I'll go outside and if you want me, let me know otherwise I'm off. As he did so, he handed them a list of things that managers do at a football club that Don Revie had given him and said if they agreed to them as well, then fine!

After 15 minutes they hadn't called him back so he went in again and said he was giving them a further ten minutes ... He got the job!

I was living in Middlesbrough for all of Charlton's first season: he transformed the place and they won the second division championship handsomely. He made the entire community very grateful for the job he did: he laid the foundation for a lot of the good that came afterwards, let alone where they are today. I admired and respected Charlton from that time on. My abiding memory is the day the Boro beat Sheffield Wednesday 8:0 at home ... I was there! Charlton mentions it in the book; but what do doesn't mention is the goal in which John Craggs (I think) took a corner that went straight into the Wednesday keeper's arms, Ron Springett. Thing is, there was so much spin on the ball and Springett was so unready for it that it spun out of his hands and into the net. Priceless!

I'm not sure whether it was that or the previous season when there were two Boro attackers in the opposition's six yard box when one of them hoofed it and it not only went over the bar, it went over the stand and out into the street. Youdon't see that any more do you?! Probably pre Charlton come to think of it!

Charlton stayed at Boro for several seasons and on his way to becoming Saint Jack of Eire he took in and made a success of Sheffield Wednesday and Newcastle United. When he was at Newcastle, my son and I won a ticket each to see the Mags and were right royally feted ... I almost met Jack but he saw me coming and effected an escape. Smart move, probably! Son Daniel took some stick at school for that because he got his picture in the paper but we lived in Sunderland and he faithfully supported the Black Cats then and now! He had a hell of a slice of cake during the interval mind!

I willed Charlton and Ireland on to great things and felt for him when he was knocked out of the various competitions they entered. They were fighters: Charlton, like Clough, knew how to use his players. It was from these two accolites that I learned that the best might not be available so getting the best out of the second tier is often a brilliant solution. Look at England at the moment: individually some of the finest players in Europe but as a team they are a washout. Jack would make them better by far: just as he did with Alan Foggon during Charlton's first season at the Boro. Foggon was a bit overweight and had only one footballing talent: he could run in straight lines with a ball and then unleash a shot with frightening ferocity. Charlton appreciated that talent and worked with it. I imagine lesser managers would have let Foggon go.

I was in New York during the 1990 world cup when the Irish were due to play a game in the city and I found no way at all to watch the game. I didn't have a ticket and couldn't find a television in the hotel, in a restaurant or railway station showing the game. I was in the city where the match was being played but had a better chance of watching the game if I'd been half a world away!!!

Charlton was made an honorary Irish citizen and if only he had been the England manager!

The book finishes with a major revelation that he and brother Bobby don't really get on. He tells a series of stories that made the fact that Bobby was a Manchester United player all the more bitter. Being a non Man Utd fan, I was dismayed to read what Jack had to say about brother Bobby. Still, he had the guts to say it and now we know.

Charlton tells us a lot: he even discusses the little black book story and I have to confess that I knew only a fraction of that until now!

This book was published in 1996 but I thoroughly enjoyed it and highly recommend it to anyone who admires the man Jack Charlton. I wish I'd been able to shake his hand at that Newcastle game.

Duncan Williamson
4th April 2007