Eric Cantona is unique. Since striding into Old Trafford, collar up, in December 1992, electrifying Manchester United, igniting Sir Alex Ferguson’s unassailable legacy and revolutionising football in Britain, the idea of Cantona as being something other, elevated, an untouchable, has persisted, and grown. This is not just because of football. Unquestionably he was an incredible player – physically imposing, a goalscorer of key goals in key moments, fearless and fearsome, yet possessing rare skill. He remains a folk hero for the United faithful, who still sing his name, though he retired almost 30 years ago.
“United remains full in my heart,” he says.
He is one of the few footballers that supporters of other clubs liked and still like – perhaps Crystal Palace aside. His two-footed kung-fu kick response to abuse from Palace fan Matthew Simmons’ at Selhurst Park in January 1995 resulted in an eight-month ban from football and a prison sentence, commuted to community service.
But more, he is a figure beyond football. Those with only a passing regard for the game know his name. While he has made around 30 films since retirement and moved through art and poetry, always agitating for issues he believes in, particularly for people who are homeless, it is the idea of a life lived intentionally on his own terms that continues to draw focus and sets Cantona apart. The rebel fighting many causes. “I am not a man,” he said, tongue slightly in cheek in Ken Loach’s Looking for Eric, “I am Cantona.”
