The Munich58 Tribute Book
The Munich58 Tribute Book contains comments and tributes from football fans, both Reds and non-Reds from all over the world. Please feel free to browse the entries in the book and add your own tribute.
2208 entries.
Forever our flowers..You are like a tatoo in our hearts. Tunawapenda sana.
United filmi beni buraya getirmedi. 8 senedir bu olayın yasını tutarım. United her zaman sevdiğim bir kulüp olacaktır. Duncan'ın geleceğini hep merak ederim. Türkiye'den selamlar.
6th February is a special day; my late grandpa's birthday; the person who made me fall in love with this club. As I grew up he always told me stories about these mythical legends who i was never lucky to witness. However they're a huge part of this club's heritage ; the heritage we all love each and every minute of our lives until we die..and possibly after as well. Rest in peace; till we meet and see you play in the afterlife!
Keith Muscat(Birkirkara, Malta)
Keith Muscat(Birkirkara, Malta)
Always remembered RIP 🔴⚪⚫🇾🇪🇾🇪🇾🇪
61 years now since you left us but you will never die and will never be forgotten. They could have conquered Europe all the years of their playing time as they were the greatest team ever.
Let your spirits play with this present and future united teams always. THE FLOWERS OF MANCHESTER WILL NEVER DIE!
Let your spirits play with this present and future united teams always. THE FLOWERS OF MANCHESTER WILL NEVER DIE!
Reading the tributes brings a tear to my eye. The love for the Babes, indeed all who died, will last forever, as will their memory.
RIP
RIP
Remembering the boys, on this 61st anniversary. The years may pass, the memories may fade, but the legend burns bright.
An outstanding team, Roger Byrne the leader, Mark Jones the rock, Eddie Colman the swagger, Geoff Bent the loyalty, David Pegg the wing wizard, Liam Whelan the conjourer, Tommy Taylor the goal machine, and Duncan Edwards the absolute talisman. They were too good for this earth....
Also remembering Mr Crickmer, Mr Whalley and Mr Curry. Also, supporter, Willie Satinoff, friend of Matt Busby, and potential board member. Also, the great sports journalists who were lost, including the great Frank Swift, a legend himself. Not forgetting the crew, and other victims. RIP.
My big hero is Duncan, but Tommy is a favourite too, as is David Pegg, Eddie, Liam...oh lets be honest, they were all great. The lingering hope for Duncan to survive though, added extra heartache. Only 21, just a boy with so much life to live.
Lads, we love you. Even those who were born later...we still love you. You werr so great...you will be forever young.
I am actually going to Belgrade in 3 weeks. I will visit the Hotel Majestic where they stayed in 1958. I will also visit the JNA stadium which hasnt actually changed that much. In my minds eye, I will see you running out for that game....
Always remembered.
An outstanding team, Roger Byrne the leader, Mark Jones the rock, Eddie Colman the swagger, Geoff Bent the loyalty, David Pegg the wing wizard, Liam Whelan the conjourer, Tommy Taylor the goal machine, and Duncan Edwards the absolute talisman. They were too good for this earth....
Also remembering Mr Crickmer, Mr Whalley and Mr Curry. Also, supporter, Willie Satinoff, friend of Matt Busby, and potential board member. Also, the great sports journalists who were lost, including the great Frank Swift, a legend himself. Not forgetting the crew, and other victims. RIP.
My big hero is Duncan, but Tommy is a favourite too, as is David Pegg, Eddie, Liam...oh lets be honest, they were all great. The lingering hope for Duncan to survive though, added extra heartache. Only 21, just a boy with so much life to live.
Lads, we love you. Even those who were born later...we still love you. You werr so great...you will be forever young.
I am actually going to Belgrade in 3 weeks. I will visit the Hotel Majestic where they stayed in 1958. I will also visit the JNA stadium which hasnt actually changed that much. In my minds eye, I will see you running out for that game....
Always remembered.
We'll be singing this song tomorrow under the plaque: "The Pride Of Football, Our Busby Babes" So many years, since you were taken, the pride of football, our Busby Babes.
We’ve shed our tears, and watched the newsreels, whilst you have slumbered, in your graves.
Though life’s moved on, the Reds continue, we’ve plumbed the depths, we’ve touched the sky.
Our mem’ries of, the flowers of Manchester, like Man United, will never die.
Roger Byrne, our worthy captain, Geoff and Eddie, Salford brave,
David Pegg, and Tommy Taylor, Mark and Liam, such pleasure gave.
For all you men, you football stalwarts, death was instant, life was gone.
For fifteen days, of pain and struggle, mighty Duncan, lingered on.
We don’t forget, the other victims, United players who survived.
Some played on, achieving glory, some too injured to make the side
Our thoughts now turn to all non-players, this tragedy, was theirs as well
The wretched grief, for friends and families, so far removed from where they fell.
You are the strength and inspiration, for those who play your roles today.
We look for flair and pace and passion, to play the game United’s way.
Though life’s moved on, the Reds continue, we’ve plumbed the depths, we’ve touched the sky.
Our mem’ries of, the flowers of Manchester, like Man United, will never die.
Will never die, will never die, like Man United, will never die.
Will never die, will never die, like Man United, will never die.
Thank you so much Mike and Elaine for continuously updating this amazing site and for all the work you put in every year to ensure that our tribute under the plaque goes without a hitch.
We’ve shed our tears, and watched the newsreels, whilst you have slumbered, in your graves.
Though life’s moved on, the Reds continue, we’ve plumbed the depths, we’ve touched the sky.
Our mem’ries of, the flowers of Manchester, like Man United, will never die.
Roger Byrne, our worthy captain, Geoff and Eddie, Salford brave,
David Pegg, and Tommy Taylor, Mark and Liam, such pleasure gave.
For all you men, you football stalwarts, death was instant, life was gone.
For fifteen days, of pain and struggle, mighty Duncan, lingered on.
We don’t forget, the other victims, United players who survived.
Some played on, achieving glory, some too injured to make the side
Our thoughts now turn to all non-players, this tragedy, was theirs as well
The wretched grief, for friends and families, so far removed from where they fell.
You are the strength and inspiration, for those who play your roles today.
We look for flair and pace and passion, to play the game United’s way.
Though life’s moved on, the Reds continue, we’ve plumbed the depths, we’ve touched the sky.
Our mem’ries of, the flowers of Manchester, like Man United, will never die.
Will never die, will never die, like Man United, will never die.
Will never die, will never die, like Man United, will never die.
Thank you so much Mike and Elaine for continuously updating this amazing site and for all the work you put in every year to ensure that our tribute under the plaque goes without a hitch.
The Busby Babes RIP
R.I.P The Busby Babes.We will never die.Long live Manchester United FC.
Flowers of Manchester.always in our hearts.never forgotten ❤
Forever in our heart you will always stay.. God bless you x
ON behalf of the Duncan Edwards Foundation (Dudley) we send our deepest condolences and love to the Busby Babes, their families and all those affected by the Munich air crash. You are remembered with love and respect and can never be replaced on the pitch or in our hearts. Duncan we are so proud of you and you continue to inspire us. We hope we are doing you proud. Rest well. United on the pitch. United in life. United in death
ROSE COOK MONK (founder)
ROSE COOK MONK (founder)
I never saw you play but I saw my Grandad cry when he spoke about your greatness and that’s enough for me. Taken too soon.
R.I.P The Busby Babes.
One cold and bitter Thursday in Munich, Germany,
Eight great football stalwarts conceded victory,
Eight men will never play again who met destruction there,
The flowers of English football, the flowers of Manchester
Matt Busby’s boys were flying, returning from Belgrade,
This great United family, all masters of their trade,
The pilot of the aircraft, the skipper Captain Thain,
Three times they tried to take off and twice turned back again.
The third time down the runaway disaster followed close,
There was slush upon that runaway and the aircraft never rose,
It ploughed into the marshy ground, it broke, it overturned.
And eight of the team were killed as the blazing wreckage burned.
Roger Byrne and Tommy Taylor who were capped for England’s side.
And Ireland’s Billy Whelan and England’s Geoff Bent died,
Mark Jones and Eddie Colman, and David Pegg also,
They all lost their lives as it ploughed on through the snow.
Big Duncan he went too, with an injury to his brain,
And Ireland’s brave Jack Blanchflower will never play again,
The great Matt Busby lay there, the father of his team
Three long months passed by before he saw his team again.
The trainer, coach and secretary, and a member of the crew,
Also eight sporting journalists who with United flew,
And one of them Big Swifty, who we will ne’er forget,
The finest English ‘keeper that ever graced the net.
Oh, England’s finest football team its record truly great,
Its proud successes mocked by a cruel turn of fate.
Eight men will never play again, who met destruction there,
The flowers of English football,
the flowers of Manchester
One cold and bitter Thursday in Munich, Germany,
Eight great football stalwarts conceded victory,
Eight men will never play again who met destruction there,
The flowers of English football, the flowers of Manchester
Matt Busby’s boys were flying, returning from Belgrade,
This great United family, all masters of their trade,
The pilot of the aircraft, the skipper Captain Thain,
Three times they tried to take off and twice turned back again.
The third time down the runaway disaster followed close,
There was slush upon that runaway and the aircraft never rose,
It ploughed into the marshy ground, it broke, it overturned.
And eight of the team were killed as the blazing wreckage burned.
Roger Byrne and Tommy Taylor who were capped for England’s side.
And Ireland’s Billy Whelan and England’s Geoff Bent died,
Mark Jones and Eddie Colman, and David Pegg also,
They all lost their lives as it ploughed on through the snow.
Big Duncan he went too, with an injury to his brain,
And Ireland’s brave Jack Blanchflower will never play again,
The great Matt Busby lay there, the father of his team
Three long months passed by before he saw his team again.
The trainer, coach and secretary, and a member of the crew,
Also eight sporting journalists who with United flew,
And one of them Big Swifty, who we will ne’er forget,
The finest English ‘keeper that ever graced the net.
Oh, England’s finest football team its record truly great,
Its proud successes mocked by a cruel turn of fate.
Eight men will never play again, who met destruction there,
The flowers of English football,
the flowers of Manchester
Time will never erode the memory of those we lost that awful day. We will remember them. RIP.
You will never be forgotten and your legacy lives on in the club and the boys who play as you should have done. RIP. Red forever.
On this tragic day
Our Babes were taken away
They left us just to dream
About the greatest ever team
ADE THE RED
Our Babes were taken away
They left us just to dream
About the greatest ever team
ADE THE RED
You will never be forgotten, never grow old, passed from one generation to the next, rest in peace.
Twas the night before Christmas, Old Trafford was bare. The staff all gone home, there was nobody there.. The lights cast a shadow, a soft glimmer which lit up the soft green grass on the pitch.
Just as the clock gave out its twelfth chime An old man appeared, as if frozen in time. He gazed at the tunnel, then broke out in voice “ITS TIME TO BEGIN.. LETS HAVE YOU MY BOYS”
Out from the tunnel appeared a lone figure Same as in life, only infinitely bigger The old man called out as he slowly drew near “good evening Duncan, are the rest of you here”
The figure broke out in wide open smile “Good Evening Sir Matt, it has been a long while The rest are all coming, they’ll be here soon,” As seven more shadows were cast by the moon.
Whelan and Bent, Pegg, Taylor and Byrne, Jones , and Colman, they came out in turn. He greeted each one, just by calling their name then proudly announced “do you fancy a game”
They took to the pitch, and the still night was broken By leather on leather, not one word was spoken They played once again, like they did long before And imagined the sound of the Old Trafford roar
Edwards called out “come on lads lets pretend That we’ve just scored a goal at the old Stretford End” As they ran to the edge of the pitch by the goal There in the stands sat a solitary soul.
His eyes were all puffy, his cheeks wet with tears As his mind wandered back to those wonderful years “come down and join us” they cried all as one “yes come down and join them” said Matt “go on son”
The lonely man stood and with much pain he said “I’m afraid I can’t play with you, you are all dead. You are all ghosts, and I am alive That was the price that I paid to survive”
My role was to go on, inspire the team And finally realise Matt Busbys dream To tell of your greatness, and as I get older To burden the weight of your life on my shoulders.”
The ghost of Sir Matt then raised up his head Giving out a loud groan, he finally said “Bobby, You survived, that much is true But we wouldn’t be here if it were not for you
For you are the one who has kept us alive That was the reason you had to survive If you were with us, all we have would be gone And the game that we play could no longer go on
If you can’t understand why it happened this way Then come here and watch when United play They sing about us, they remember us all We live and we breathe with each kick of the ball
The legends that live here, Robson and Best, Cantona, Law, Giggs, Scholes and the rest They are us, we are them, we are all here as one And that is the reason United goes on
So come down and join us, we’re begging you do You are still one of us, and we’re still one of you” And then Bobbys face rose and he gave them a smile And he said “I would love to come play for a while”
They played and they played, as they did in the past Only not quite as skillful, and not quite as fast And when it was over, and when it was done They’d defeated Benfica by four goals to one.
Then Sir Matt said “lads, its been fun you know But It’s now Christmas day, and we really must go” They walked to the front of the stadium and turned And Sir Bobby said “there is something I’ve learned”
“You did not die, on that February night You’re still here with us, as you’re with me tonight And you’ll live on forever as long as we play As the ghosts disappeared down Sir Matt Busby way….
Just as the clock gave out its twelfth chime An old man appeared, as if frozen in time. He gazed at the tunnel, then broke out in voice “ITS TIME TO BEGIN.. LETS HAVE YOU MY BOYS”
Out from the tunnel appeared a lone figure Same as in life, only infinitely bigger The old man called out as he slowly drew near “good evening Duncan, are the rest of you here”
The figure broke out in wide open smile “Good Evening Sir Matt, it has been a long while The rest are all coming, they’ll be here soon,” As seven more shadows were cast by the moon.
Whelan and Bent, Pegg, Taylor and Byrne, Jones , and Colman, they came out in turn. He greeted each one, just by calling their name then proudly announced “do you fancy a game”
They took to the pitch, and the still night was broken By leather on leather, not one word was spoken They played once again, like they did long before And imagined the sound of the Old Trafford roar
Edwards called out “come on lads lets pretend That we’ve just scored a goal at the old Stretford End” As they ran to the edge of the pitch by the goal There in the stands sat a solitary soul.
His eyes were all puffy, his cheeks wet with tears As his mind wandered back to those wonderful years “come down and join us” they cried all as one “yes come down and join them” said Matt “go on son”
The lonely man stood and with much pain he said “I’m afraid I can’t play with you, you are all dead. You are all ghosts, and I am alive That was the price that I paid to survive”
My role was to go on, inspire the team And finally realise Matt Busbys dream To tell of your greatness, and as I get older To burden the weight of your life on my shoulders.”
The ghost of Sir Matt then raised up his head Giving out a loud groan, he finally said “Bobby, You survived, that much is true But we wouldn’t be here if it were not for you
For you are the one who has kept us alive That was the reason you had to survive If you were with us, all we have would be gone And the game that we play could no longer go on
If you can’t understand why it happened this way Then come here and watch when United play They sing about us, they remember us all We live and we breathe with each kick of the ball
The legends that live here, Robson and Best, Cantona, Law, Giggs, Scholes and the rest They are us, we are them, we are all here as one And that is the reason United goes on
So come down and join us, we’re begging you do You are still one of us, and we’re still one of you” And then Bobbys face rose and he gave them a smile And he said “I would love to come play for a while”
They played and they played, as they did in the past Only not quite as skillful, and not quite as fast And when it was over, and when it was done They’d defeated Benfica by four goals to one.
Then Sir Matt said “lads, its been fun you know But It’s now Christmas day, and we really must go” They walked to the front of the stadium and turned And Sir Bobby said “there is something I’ve learned”
“You did not die, on that February night You’re still here with us, as you’re with me tonight And you’ll live on forever as long as we play As the ghosts disappeared down Sir Matt Busby way….