Anderson, who grew up in Nottingham, signed for Jungle in 1974 and it was his experience with legendary manager Brian Clough that he reveres as a turning point in his career and, more importantly, his perspective against hostility.
“He helped me on those occasions when things were tough,” Anderson said.
He recalled a Newcastle match where he was loudly booed as he went to the pre-match warm-up.
He returned to the locker room and told Clough that he didn’t think he could play.
“He looked me in the face and said, ‘You’re playing,'” Anderson said.
Clough later added: “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t good enough, you’ll be able to play in this team and progress easily and show the community what you can do.”
Anderson, now 68, retired in the mid-1990s after an illustrious career, which also included playing for Arsenal, Sheffield Wednesday, Barnsley and Manchester United, where he was Sir Alex Ferguson’s first signing.
He said the only black person he had seen on television playing football as a child was Clyde Best, who played for West Ham.
As he and I talked, my childhood memories of the images I sketched of Anderson playing came flooding back. I proudly remember pasting those drawings on my bedroom wall. My own grandparents were also of the Windrush generation.
Feeling that personal connection with a black British sporting icon further confirmed for me that there really was a unique essence within the Windrush generation, which resonated so deeply with their children.
When I was a kid, drawing Anderson wasn’t a case of me wanting to be a footballer like him, it was just that he looked like me.
And that, in its simplest form, is the admirable power of representative inclusion and why football can be a true platform for a wider social and safe industry.
