Obituary for footballer John Robertson: The Picasso from across the street

FFootball fans, sometimes willing to shower their stars with affection, were happy to go the extra mile with this player. Nottingham hero John Robertson was flooded with love and there were reasons for that. You can recognize one immediately when you look at the old winning pictures. 1979, Olympic Stadium Munich. European Champions Cup. Nottingham won 1-0 against Malmo. Robertson served the cross for Trevor Francis’ winning goal and then dragged the trophy across the lawn: a short, not quite fit-looking man with a bucket hat in the club colors on his head. He had just made his underdog club the king of Europe – but he looked like a fan. Like someone who doesn’t get his body into game shape on the pitch, but in the pub. This John Neilson Robertson, born in Lanarkshire/Scotland in 1953, was the idol of his followers. Because he made their dreams come true.

The following year again. Nottingham defended the European Cup in Madrid against Hamburger SV, who were superior and constantly pressing. The big time, still under Branko Zebec. But waiting in Nottingham’s goal – in a breathtakingly daring combination of green shirt and red shorts – was the insurmountable Peter Shilton that day. And the only goal scored: John Robertson, number 11. A sprint from his left wing into the middle, opponent Manfred Kaltz duped, a one-two in the penalty area, then the stab in the heart of the Hamburg favorites. Nottingham Forest, the upstart, was the dominant team in Europe, grippy, compact, driven by coach Brian Clough, strategist and manhunter.

To Clough, his player Robertson seemed like a “little fat lad”. A fat little boy. He had to work on him to bring out the talent that was within him. Clough: “Give him a ball and a meter of turf and he was an artist, the Picasso of our game.” Both the coach and his player were addicted types. As the Times once wrote: “Clough bet Robertson £100 that he could last longer without alcohol than the winger could without a cigarette.”

Of course, what fans never forget is that when someone sacrifices themselves, for the club and therefore also for them. In 1979, Robertson lent his car to his brother Hughie and his wife; they had a fatal accident in it. Nevertheless, a few days later, John Robertson played in the European Cup against Cologne and even scored an important goal with a diving header. That was a tragedy of his life that didn’t stop him from giving everything for his club. The other: A daughter was born with cerebral palsy and died at the age of 13. And Robertson, who had been unable to give up cigarettes as a player, now found an opportunity to continue smoking. He went to the cemetery regularly. Five minute smoke break with his daughter. Only later did he stop smoking.

Almost 400 games for Nottingham, also 28 international games for Scotland, including at the 1982 World Cup in Spain. Later assistant coach and assistant to his former teammate Martin O’Neill at several clubs. He was a legend who seemed like the guy across the street. John McGovern, his colleague from Nottingham’s brief, brilliant era, said: “He may not have looked like George Best, but he was every bit as good as him.”

On Christmas Day, John Robertson, much loved and much tried, died after a long illness. He was 72 years old.