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Jack Charlton

https://www.leedsunited.com/news/team-news/26768/rip-jack-charlton

posted on 11/7/20


RIP Jack

comment by Mattyp (U8926)

posted on 11/7/20

To be honest it's hard to say who is more gutted about this;

1) The city of Leeds.
2) The country of Ireland

Cause every Irish person I've seen comment on this has basically said that he is the only Englishman they love, let alone like.

comment by Stoopo (U4707)

posted on 11/7/20

RIP big fella. A true leader on the pitch and a great servant for the club.

Leeds United isn’t his “former club“ as one pundit said earlier today. It’s always Been his club and always will be.

posted on 11/7/20

comment by Mattyp (U8926)
posted 22 minutes ago
To be honest it's hard to say who is more gutted about this;

1) The city of Leeds.
2) The country of Ireland

Cause every Irish person I've seen comment on this has basically said that he is the only Englishman they love, let alone like.
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No comment.....for respect to Jack.

posted on 11/7/20

Comment Deleted by Site Moderator

posted on 11/7/20

comment by Cal Neva (U11544)
posted 1 hour, 8 minutes ago
Quite a few English born players have played for Ireland. Big Mick also managed them.
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Anglo- irish so to speak!

posted on 11/7/20

RIP Big Jack

posted on 12/7/20

I was at the game in Stuttgart and for me, it was the defining moment in Irish football, when we finally became a footballing nation, and left our minnow-hood behind. And all of it engineered by an Englishman who plotted the downfall of his own country. How sweet was that?
It felt like all of Ireland had made their way to Germany that day. The bars were filled with us, pouring pints of Guinness into us, just there for the ride. No-one believed it would be anything more than that. England had been on a sensational run to the tournament, we had scraped in courtesy of a freak Scottish win in Bulgaria. We had it in mind to fail gloriously and to drown our sorrows in the time-honoured way. We would show Europe how to have
a good time.
But Jack didn't think like that.
I had been off cigarettes for three months until the sixth minute of the game when Ray Houghton, a Scotsman with green blood, drove the blade into the heart of England. Luckily, the man next to me had a full pack of Major, which just about lasted us till the end. That feeling of euphoria when it was finally over, swept us away to a place we had never been. None of us could believe it, we were singing and swaying, calling out for Jack and the lads to celebrate with us, to tell us it was true. Finally, they emerged from the tunnel to a deafening, delirious crowd, who sang and wept and never wanted that moment to stop.
Thirty-two years later, I can still see him scratching his head as he saluted us, wondering what all the fuss was about. It was our 1966 in 1988. 'Thank you ' just doesn't do it justice, Jack.

posted on 21/7/20

Comment Deleted by Site Moderator

posted on 21/7/20

Sleep well Big Jack.

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