Munich

It is of course 50 years this Wednesday since the airplane crash which tore the heart out of the Busby Babes of Manchester United. An anniversary worth marking, you may think. But the way in which it's being done seems a little strange. The date itself as far as I can see is going pretty well unmarked - at least outside Manchester itself. My newspaper chose last week to run a series of articles about it, and the BBC's main tribute is tonight (ITV seem to be doing nothing, unless I've missed it). You can't help but feel that the anniversary has had to play second fiddle to the schedules rather than the other way round. And anyway in this neck of the woods, the date we tend to remember is the 21st of the month, that being when local boy Duncan Edwards finally succumbed to his injuries. When I worked in Dudley, I used to make an annual visit to his grave at the local cemetary, where I would invariably meet up with a few like-minded people. I only saw him play once, but remember how he completely dominated the pitch - there's little doubt that, had he lived, he would have been one of the greats.