When Bobby Robson finished his last chemotherapy session in 2007, Dr Ruth Plummer pulled him to one side at the Freeman Hospital in Newcastle.
Bobby thought it was going to be about his health.
Instead, Ruth wanted to talk to him about something else.
Her department was too old.
There was a new Early Cancer Trials Unit being planned at the Northern Centre for Cancer Care, three times bigger than what they already had, with a proper laboratory, modern equipment and room for clinical trials.
But there was one problem.
They did not have the money to kit it out.
So Ruth asked Bobby if he knew anybody who might help.
Bobby went home and spoke to his wife Elsie.
The next day, they started making calls.
Very quickly, what had started as a quiet conversation with Ruth had turned into a committee.
Then the idea came up.
Use Bobby’s name.
He was not comfortable with that at first.
He did not want a charity built around himself.
But the others told him it would open doors, and once Bobby agreed to it, there was no going halfway.
The Sir Bobby Robson Foundation was born.
At the first meeting with the hospital, Don Robson got straight to the point.
How much money was needed to get started?
£500,000.
And Ruth needed it by the summer of 2008 because she wanted the facility running by October.
That was when Bobby knew what he had walked into.
“There could be no slowing down, no pulling out, no getting halfway down the road and turning back.”
The original plan had been simple enough.
Bobby would lend his name, act as a figurehead, and stay in the background.
It did not work out like that.
He went to the meetings.
He did the interviews.
He kept going even when he was not well.
Sometimes he would pull Ruth to one side and ask her:
“What have you bloody well got me into?”
But he never missed a single meeting.
The launch was held at the Copthorne Hotel.
By then, Bobby was fully in it.
“If I’m committed to something, then I’m committed.”
And then the money started coming in.
Within seven weeks, the first target had already been reached.
£560,000.
Then people started turning up at Bobby and Elsie’s house.
The first donation came from a woman carrying an envelope full of cash.
Her husband had recently died, and his final request had been that people at his funeral gave money to Bobby’s charity instead of buying flowers.
She handed over £271.74.
“What can you say to that?”
Then there was Johnny Bliss, a local singer with pancreatic cancer.
His doctors had told him he had months to live, but he still held a concert, sold CDs and raised around £10,000 for the Foundation.
Bobby met him at the Copthorne.
Johnny brought his family with him, and made the men wear their best suits and ties.
Bobby could see he was not well.
“I could have cried.”
And for all the football he had lived through, all the countries, all the clubs, all the games, this became his last big job.
“It’s not about beating Portsmouth any more.”
“It’s about beating death.”
As of today the Sir Bobby Robson foundation has raised over £27 million.
#football
10 years ago my wife, the mum of our kids & the MP for Batley&Spen was killed by a far right extremist.
At anniversaries I try to be optimistic about the future. But not this time. In the ten years since she was killed we have gone backwards & I fear our democracy is now at risk
Far right racist scum were outnumbered by anti-fascists in towns & cities all over the UK today💪
From Belfast to Brighton, in Newcastle, in Sheffield, in Glasgow🥰
We do outnumber them, everywhere.
Yet Reform, Tories & Labour all compete for the anti-migrant & racist vote🤷♀️
Lee Anderson says he and Robert Kenyon are getting an amazing response on the doors in Makerfield. I wonder if that's because he did his usual trick of getting his mate to pretend he didn't know him.
What an effort from the laddie, Craig Ferguson! He’s just walked from LA to Boston over 3200 miles, raising over £1 million for Mental Health, to finish in time for Scotland’s first game v Haiti. A pleasure to see him complete his walk! 🏴🥾⚽️🇺🇸❤️ #samh
https://t.co/Z3EgdNBlTC
Your car is German. Your pizza is Italian. Your democracy is Greek. Your coffee is Brazilian. Your movies American. Your shirt is Indian. Your electronic Chinese. Your numbers Arabic. Your letters are Latin. And you complain your neighbor is an immigrant! Pull yourself together.
sat down for a McDonald's in my Scotland top in NYC and some lassie has just asked me "what's your number in team", so some woman now thinks she's met Scott McTominay in a maccies tucking into a pre match McMuffin
He got 18 months. Suspended entirely.
If you care about women you’d be rioting over the thousands of stories like this, you absolute scumbags.
It’s a testament to women’s restraint that we don’t.
AJ Lee on her suicide attempt.
“I didn't go through with the attempt however I did book a hotel room to die in because I didn't want my husband to find me.”
“I called the suicide prevention hotline… The man on the other end on of the phone, this man was so patient and so kind. It was the first time in a long time someone had shown me kindness... it was this tiny small act of kindness that literally saved my life.”
(2021)
If football players can play with 60000 people shouting and hurling insults them, I'm sure snooker players can learn to play a shot with someone coughing in the back row.
Why did nobody riot when a guy cut his girlfriend’s head off in East Kilbride…or when a young boy was stabbed to death on Irvine beach? It doesn’t tick the box some need for outrage.