Mourners including Sir Alex Ferguson and legendary player Sir Bobby Charlton gathered for a funeral service for Manchester United star Harry Gregg today.
The former Northern Ireland international goalkeeper was hailed as a hero after the Munich air disaster in February 1958, in which 23 people were killed. He died on Sunday aged 87.
Former Manchester United winger Keith Gillespie and youth player David Jeffrey were also among those to pay tribute. His funeral was held at St Patrick’s Parish Church in Coleraine, Co Londonderry, from midday.
Harry Gregg, who survived the Manchester United Munich air disaster, pictured at his home in Co Londonderry in 2008
Sir Alex Ferguson arrives for the funeral of former Manchester United and Northern Ireland goalkeeper Harry Gregg
Sir Bobby Charlton and his wife Norma arrived at the church in Coleraine today to pay their respects
Mourners looked on as Gregg’s coffin arrived at church today. Gregg became the world’s most expensive goalkeeper when Sir Matt Busby’s United paid Doncaster £23,000 in 1957 and he was voted the best keeper at the World Cup a year later
Left, Former Manchester United winger Keith Gillespie. Right, Former Manchester United youth player David Jeffrey also made his way into St Patrick’s Parish Church today
Denis Law attends the funeral for former Manchester United and Northern Ireland goalkeeper Harry Gregg at St Patrick’s Parish Church, Co Londonderry
Gregg’s grandson Harry Junior is seen carrying a walking stick as he arrives for his funeral in Co Londonderry today
Former Huddersfield and Manchester City star Denis Law walked in with Sir Alex Ferguson
Former Northern Ireland footballer Gerry Armstrong joined hundreds paying their respects
Hundreds of people turned out to pay their respects as the procession made its way through Coleraine
Northern Irish former athlete Dame Mary Peters attended the service to remember the footballing hero
Sir Alex Ferguson and Denis Law chatted as they left with fellow mourners this afternoon
John-Henry Gregg thanks the guard of honour before the start of the funeral of his father
DUP leader Arlene Foster was also among those paying tribute at the touching service today
Gregg survived the Munich crash and twice returned to the burning fuselage to drag United team-mates and strangers to safety.
He rescued United players Sir Bobby and Dennis Viollet from the BEA Flight 609, as well as a 20-month-old baby and her badly injured pregnant mother.
In nine years at United, Gregg played 247 times, including in a 3-0 win over Sheffield Wednesday just 13 days after the Munich tragedy.
Gregg became the world’s most expensive goalkeeper when Sir Matt Busby’s United paid Doncaster £23,000 in 1957 and he was voted the best keeper at the World Cup a year later.
Gregg became a hero on and off the pitch when he survived the Munich crash and twice returned to the burning fuselage to drag United team-mates and strangers to safety
United star, Denis Law. The Reverend Ian Ballentine said the large crowds outside the church were a tribute to Gregg, who he described as an ‘outstanding professional footballer and a man of exceptional courage’
There was a poignant guard of honour outside the church this morning ahead of the service
Former Manchester United youth player David Jeffrey arrives for the funeral of Harry Gregg in Coleraine this morning
Sir Bobby Charlton and his wife Norma held hands as they made their way into church to remember the footballing legend
Mourners arrive this morning for the funeral of Harry Gregg at St Patrick’s Parish Church in Coleraine, Co Londonderry
Sir Alex Ferguson at the funeral today. In nine years at United, Gregg played 247 times, including in a 3-0 win over Sheffield Wednesday just 13 days after the Munich tragedy
Manchester United greats Sir Bobby Charlton, pictured, Sir Alex Ferguson and Denis Law among mourners who arrived for Harry Gregg’s funeral in Coleraine
Manchester United goalkeeper Harry Gregg in action on March 22, 1958
Manchester United goalkeeper Harry Gregg pictured on September 5, 1957
The wreckage of Flight 609 lies in the snow. The aircraft, carrying the Manchester United football team, crashed at the airport during a heavy snowstorm
He won just 25 caps for his country during an international career that was hampered by injury.
Gregg had spells with Windsor Park Swifts, the reserve team of Linfield, and his local club Coleraine before moving to England to sign for Doncaster at the age of 18, and played for Rovers between 1952 and 1957.
When he retired from playing, a managerial career followed, with spells in charge of Shrewsbury, Swansea, Crewe and Carlisle.
IAN LADYMAN: Harry Gregg never wanted his place at the centre of one of football’s greatest tragedies… reuniting with Sir Bobby Charlton at Munich disaster’s 60th anniversary closed a chapter of his life
Harry Gregg’s favourite seat was a big armchair by the picture window at the front of his house on the hill in Castlerock, an hour outside of Belfast.
On his coffee table were his football books, autobiographies mainly, and his newspaper. Close at hand were his cigarettes.
Towards the back end of his life, Gregg would sit and watch the football on the television. Manchester United were still his team.
Former Manchester United goalkeeper Harry Gregg (left) alongside Sir Bobby Charlton
Gregg greets Manchester United players during his testimonial at Windsor Park in 2012
Gregg (circled) stands alongside his team-mates before taking on Partizan Belgrade in 1958
‘Here at home, when United have a new manager or player, I just look at it like any other fan,’ he told me.
‘My simple little head asks itself: ‘Is he a good player or is he a pillock?’.’
Time spent with Harry Gregg was never wasted. It would involve plenty of listening and at times a little patience. But he, of all those who were there that dreadful day in Bavaria, had plenty to say.
Gregg never escaped the shadow of Munich. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. As he was prone to say: ‘I know what happened. I know what I saw. I was there.’ For many years – too many years – those details seeped in to his dreams.
As a goalkeeper, he was imposing and charismatic. In his case, sport mirrored life. Even in his later days, he stood tall. Conversations took place at his pace and followed his path. Often, confrontation would be central and it would not always be in jest.
I was lucky to know him towards the end. An afternoon spent at his house for an interview in autumn 2017 was quite possibly the most treasured of a 20-year career with this newspaper. Much of that time was spent persuading him to let me turn my tape recorder on. Another chunk was spent eating his wife Carolyn’s sandwiches.
Carolyn – graceful, charming Carolyn – was the gatekeeper at Castlerock. Nobody got to Harry without her say so. She was, understandably, ever suspicious of people’s motives.
Time spent with Gregg, who won 25 caps for Northern Ireland, was never wasted
Gregg’s life was pockmarked with great tragedy. He lost his first wife and his daughter to cancer. Without Carolyn, he wondered to me out loud, he may never have recovered.
It is true that Gregg’s relationship with United over the years was not straightforward. Unlike some of the 1958 team, he did not get the chance to square the circle when the European Cup was finally won at Wembley 10 years later. He had been sold to Stoke City in 1966 and never won a medal. This perhaps bothered him more than he would ever concede.
He felt that some of his old team-mates were too quick to tell their stories of Munich, including some who were not there. As for Sir Bobby Charlton, the two men were not close. Given what had passed between them on the runway, it was a remoteness that did not sit easily with Gregg throughout his years of retirement.
But then Harry Gregg did not purport to be everybody’s cup of tea, nor did he wish to be. He liked to say of himself ‘I am not a nice man’. This was not true but it was his own way of acknowledging the sharp edges that could cut when they needed to.
The truth is that his place at the centre of one of football’s most tragic stories was one that he never wanted. He carried it with grace and due responsibility but he suffered with it too.
The Manchester United players and officials who survived Munich pose in March 1958
‘I never wanted to be John Wayne,’ he told me.
Ours was a relationship sustained occasionally by telephone. If he had something he wanted to say, usually about Manchester United, Carolyn would call. Then he would ask me questions about football he knew I would not be able to answer.
‘I think I will tell your editor about this,’ he would rasp.
The last day I saw him, I watched as he walked slowly to his seat at Old Trafford ahead of the 60th anniversary commemorations of the disaster two Februarys ago. He hadn’t been sure that he wanted to come. He almost cancelled. He had not been back for years and was, in all honesty, a little afraid of what he would feel.
On the day, the organisation failed him a little. He was almost the last man to appear and was left to walk – alone and self-conscious – to his seat. It was snowing and he looked hollow and vulnerable.
Several hours later, he asked me to meet him in the bar of the hotel across the road from the stadium. When I got there, the fire had returned to his eyes.
As a goalkeeper, Gregg was imposing and charismatic. In his case, sport mirrored life
‘Where have you been?’ he cracked. ‘Did you have something better to do?’
He was glad the day was almost over, glad he had come. He was among his people now, his family and his friends, and a weight had been lifted. The day before, at United’s training ground, his grandson had met Zlatan Ibrahimovic and he had exchanged a word with manager Jose Mourinho.
‘Do you think he knew who I was?’ he asked. It was not a joke.
Most importantly, though, Gregg and Charlton had spent time together after the ceremony. Charlton’s opening line had disarmed him a little.
‘Hello big man,’ he said simply. ‘How you doing?’
For Harry Gregg that simple exchange – a moment of civility between the two remaining survivors of that abysmal winter’s scene – closed a chapter of his life. It drew a line under something that had troubled him for far too long.
‘Aye I am glad I came,’ he said to me from beneath the peak of his baseball cap.
‘I think I had to come here. Just one last time.’