My fondest memory of John Robertson is a mid-80s visit to Highbury for an Arsenal versus Nottingham Forest clash (John Robertson was a ‘scruffy, unfit’ genius who did not get the kudos he deserved, 26 December). Robertson was in possession outside the Arsenal penalty area and faced by a stationary defender. He paused, then, rather than trying to round his opponent, outrageously nutmegged him. A home fan, standing close by, voiced astonishment with “How can that little fat c**t do that? I can’t do that!” Awesome.
Robert Lawrence
Oxford
Brian Clough gave a typically sharp retort to a journalist who, after Nottingham Forest had won the European Cup in 1980, implied that the club had had to pay £1m for Trevor Francis to score the winning goal. Clough agreed, but pointed out that he’d paid nothing for the player who crossed the ball for Francis to score: John Robertson (Obituary, 28 December). Clough’s faith in, and admiration for, the “little fat guy” was rewarded in that beautiful cross to the far post, which I was lucky enough to be standing behind.
David Whitehead
Sheffield
