Best foot forward in musical on footballer’s life

Dancing Shoes enacts George’s skill but doesn’t shirk from his sadness, says Carl Dixon

DANCING Shoes — The George Best Story, which played to acclaim in Best’s native Belfast, comes to the Grand Canal Theatre on August 29, until September 3. Written by Marie Jones and Martin Lynch and directed by Peter Sheridan, the musical recreates the wild times and sadness of the footballing genius’s turbulent life. The title refers to a quote from flamboyant ballet dancer Rudolf Nureyev, who, when asked to name the greatest dancer in the world, replied “George Best.”

Born in 1946 into a Protestant working-class family, Best honed his football skills amid the terraces of east Belfast. This bright, handsome child was given his first professional trial at Manchester United at age 15, and Bob Bishop, the scout who discovered him, introduced him to manager Matt Busby in a telegram with the words “I think I’ve found you a genius.” Best made his debut for Manchester United age 17 and scored in his second match at Old Trafford in front of 54,000 fans.

Best’s journey from insular Belfast to soccer stardom was not easy. Marie Jones grew up in Belfast too. “He was very shy when he left and at the time moving to the UK was like moving to America,” she says. “With his strong Belfast accent, he might as well have been speaking French. He was away for one day and became so homesick that he came home. Matt Busby had to ring his dad to ask him if he was coming back. But in the end, George knew that to realise his dreams of playing soccer professionally he had to go. It nearly broke his mother’s heart when he left for good.”

Manchester United won the first division the following year and in 1968 he helped United win the European Cup and was named European Footballer of the Year. By the age of 27, his celebrity lifestyle had taken its toll and he drifted down through a succession of smaller clubs, including a three-match stint at Cork City, before retiring. He is considered one of the greatest soccer players ever.

However brightly his talent burned on the field, his off-screen behaviour brought him a wider audience. He was good looking, had an agile intellect and a talent for iconic sayings and anecdotes that summarised his decadent lifestyle and grabbed the popular imagination. “I spent 90% of my money on women and drink. The rest I wasted.”

Jones says there was too much analysis of his personality and that he was shy. She says the conflict between the ordinary and the extraordinary is at the heart of his story and at the heart of the musical. “He was the first superstar and women were falling over him and he didn’t necessarily have the social skills to deal with that; he probably responded in the way most young men would,” she says. “I don’t think he was particularly complex or deep, although drinking made him more profound and depressed than he might otherwise have been. His behaviour was very human. When he stopped playing, there was nowhere for all that drive and determination to go; no way to create the incredible highs he got from playing.”

His battle with alcoholism dominated his later life and following a liver transplant in 2002 he resumed drinking. He died in 2005 aged 59. The most poignant moment of the musical is the scene where Alex Higgins, struggling with the throat cancer that would kill him, visits Best, who is dying in hospital. ‘My liver’s permanently damaged,’ says Best. ‘I haven’t had a liver since 1973,’ says Higgins, not to be outdone, before they both conclude that they didn’t do half bad for two lads from Belfast.

Genius and longevity often make uncomfortable bedfellows; yet in his comparatively short time as a player, Best showed moments of pure, unadulterated skill that lived long in the memories of those lucky enough to have seen him or those few grainy moments of brilliance captured on film. With his superstar status, high-octane lifestyle and attractiveness to women, he began the transformation of English soccer from a male-dominated, predominantly working-class game to the media-driven, all-conquering goliath it has become. Yet throughout his career and amid the Miss World and champagne madness, it is worth remembering that the decisions he made were his own to make. His ghost writer John Roberts once asked him if he had any regrets. “No,” said Best, “because I’ve always made up my own mind. If you make up your own mind, you can only blame yourself.”