There’s a television interview out there from the 1970s, when Middlesbrough manager Jack Charlton is asked about facing his brother in a match, who was manager of Preston. Two brothers, and two great players, the interviewer says. “No,” says Jack, quietly but firmly. “Our Bobby was a great player. Not me.”
You can find many examples of Jack Charlton making the same assessment, swearing it was not from modesty. Other people would say it depends on how you define great. Bobby Charlton was an elegant goalscoring midfielder, an obvious talent among the best in the world. But Jack’s greatness was that there were few better than him at stopping players like his brother.
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