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When George Best was playing for Bournemouth during the 1982-83 season, Harry Redknapp was working as a coach at the club and had got to know him quite well. Best was coming towards the end of his career by then, but he was still one of the biggest names in football, and he was living with Mary Stävin, the former Miss World. One day, George turned up to see Harry and asked him a question. “Harry, where’s Salisbury from here?” Harry told him it was about half an hour away. “There’s racing on, do you fancy it?” Harry loved his horse racing, so he agreed to drive them there, although George had one thing he wanted to do on the way. He needed to drop Mary off at the train station. Harry had always found Mary to be “beautiful, friendly and charming,” and when she got into the car that day, she looked like a film star. But as soon as they dropped her at the station and drove away, George turned to Harry. “Thank God she’s gone.” Harry could not understand what the problem was. “Why, what’s the matter?” George had something he wanted to get off his chest. “We went to the pictures last night.” “She drove me mad all the way through it.” “Touching me and kissing me.” Harry could not stop laughing. “Really, George?” “Sounds awful.” There were thousands of men who would have given anything to be in George’s position, and here he was complaining about it. But George was completely serious. “You don’t understand, Harry.” “I was trying to watch the film.” They carried on to Salisbury, where plenty of familiar football faces had turned up for the racing. Mick Channon and Alan Ball were among the old Southampton players enjoying themselves in the champagne bar. But rather than join them, George preferred to sit quietly out of the way with Harry, having a cup of tea. For someone who had spent so much of his life being recognised everywhere he went, he was not particularly interested in being the centre of attention. After the racing finished, Harry and George set off back towards Bournemouth. They were driving along a country lane, when George noticed two men walking along the road. They looked as though they had not had a particularly successful afternoon at the races. George turned to Harry. “Pull over.” “Look at them.” “That could be you and me, Harry, couldn’t it?” “We should give them a lift.” Harry stopped the car and George wound down his window. “You all right, lads?” “Come on, get in.” The two men climbed into the back, looked across at the passenger seat and realised they were sitting in a car with George Best. Both were football supporters who had lost their money at the races, and now one of the most famous footballers in the world was offering them a lift home. By complete coincidence, they both lived in Bournemouth. So instead of dropping them at the nearest town, Harry drove them both all the way home. George spent the journey chatting away to them, and the pair could hardly believe their luck. They listened to everything he said, still struggling to believe who was sitting in front of them. When they finally got home and climbed out of the car, George sat watching them walk away. He turned to Harry. “There but for the grace of God, eh Harry?” #football