A lot of their stories are to be taken with a pinch of salt, but this one just - y'know - feels right to me.
>> National treasures <<
They don't make footballers like they used to
In the 1970s the Grand National, as an event, was
dying. We all remember it as halcyon days, with
Red Rum winning three times. But in 1977, when
Rummie won his third race, fewer than 10,000
spectators were there. The race has been
resurrected, in 2007, the crowd was 68,000. Back
then Aintree was owned by an eccentric old lady,
Mirabel Topham, with Ladbrokes having the
thankless task of managing it for her. One
poor chap was sent up to the course and given a
scruffy office with a couple of desks and phones
and told to sort out tickets, sponsors, hospitality
- the lot. The only way he got through it was with
help from a surprising source. Every day, after
football training finished at Liverpool, Emlyn
Hughes and Terry McDermott, big horse racing
fans, came over with a crate of beer and got on
the phones to make the sales calls. Somehow you
can't quite imagine Torres and Kewell doing it.
