Frankie goes to Hollywood

THIS reviewer’s introduction to Ol’ Blue Eyes came, strangely, via the pages of a 1970s soccer magazine.

Every week, a footballer would be subjected to a Q&A designed to reveal the man rather than the sportsman – what car did he drive, his food of choice, his greatest moment, that sort of thing. When it came to favourite singer, my footballing heroes invariably chose some guy called Frank Sinatra.

To a kid growing up in a house full of Beatles and Motown records this Sinatra fella was a mystery but if he was good enough for the likes of Billy Bremner, Jack Charlton and Johnny Giles he was definitely worthy of my attention.