Henry Winter: Ray Kennedy helped define the 1970s and will always be revered at Arsenal and Liverpool

Kennedy was called an unsung hero, even underappreciated, but that was because he never chased the headlines. His excellence, turning semi-finals around, winning trophies, came as standard with this fabulous player.

Maybe, too, because Kennedy played in that wonderfully balanced, combative and skilful midfield of Liverpool’s, also graced by Jimmy Case, Graeme Souness and Terry McDermott, his work was occasionally overshadowed. But only to certain, external eyes.

Kennedy was always revered at Arsenal, where he enjoyed such a productive attacking partnership with John Radford, and at Liverpool, where Bob Paisley moved him back into midfield with such success.

Those of us who fell in love with football in the Seventies found our attention magnetically drawn to this strong, clever creator and finisher, who seemed to glide across the rutted fields of the old First Division. His picture, prised tenderly from Shoot!, adorned countless walls. The simple strips he wore, whether red or yellow at Arsenal or the Liverpool classics of all red or white-black-white, with v-necks, enhanced Kennedy’s style.

As did his commitment to the boots with three stripes, footwear for flair.

Kennedy’s talent was always appreciated at Arsenal and Liverpool but rarely by England.

The front page of Shoot! magazine on March 26, 1977 carried the headline “Give Me Another England Chance ... asks Liverpool’s Ray Kennedy”.

It was a big story, a story that ran and ran. He won 17 caps but was never used properly by Don Revie or Ron Greenwood. The failure to harness such accomplished gifts as Kennedy’s was another reason why the 1970s were a lost decade for England, beyond the initial promise of the World Cup in Mexico.

Yet Kennedy, who has passed away at 70 after living half his life with Parkinson’s disease, deserves to be remembered as one of the greats of the English game for his achievements, ability and versatility, whether as a bustling centre forward or elegant midfield player.

For those fortunate to attend games in the Seventies, or who have been scrolling back through the footage of Kennedy in his playing pomp, the memories are legion. He may not have won over England managers but the impact he had on impressionable youngsters was intense.

His greatest hits will always be cherished: the stream of goals for Arsenal, including that title winner, and the fierce shot from a tight angle at Wolverhampton Wanderers to confirm the 1975-76 title for Liverpool, a goal that had those Liverpool fans who were watching from the Molineux floodlights clambering down to invade the pitch at the final whistle. There was the pass to David Fairclough to seal that famous, raucous Anfield night against Saint-Étienne in 1977, and ripping Bayern Munich apart in the 1981 European Cup semi-final.

There was the BBC goal of the season against Derby County in 1979 that showcased Kennedy’s touch and intelligence of movement. Controlling McDermott’s driven ball in from the right with his left foot, he timed his arrival perfectly to glide through Derby’s defence, taking another touch with his left to round David McKellar and calmly stroke the ball into the empty net right-footed, before being embraced and congratulated by an admiring Kenny Dalglish. Praise indeed. Kennedy’s satisfaction will have been even greater because he always described the Derby defender, the outstanding Roy McFarland, as “my most difficult opponent”.

These special moments, and his contribution to so many trophies, made Kennedy one of the greats. But it was so many other moments, other images and memories, that garlanded his reputation. It was Kennedy in his prime, dribbling past West Ham United’s Alan Devonshire and Trevor Brooking, again his balance perfect, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It was Kennedy racing away from the Saint-Étienne defender Gérard Janvion.

Maybe his reputation was not as strong as it should have been nationally as, after his diagnosis with Parkinson’s, Kennedy returned to his North East homeland and retreated from view. It was a stain on the game that Kennedy struggled to make ends meet, that he had to sell his medals and caps for £73,000 simply to keep going. The FA could have done more. The PFA could have done more as Souness argues cogently.

Looking back through a 1973 pen pic interview he gave to Shoot!, amid the Arsenal man’s admiration for Faye Dunaway as his favourite actress, his “wife’s hot pot” as his favourite food and Tom and Jerry vying with Whicker’s World as his favourite TV programme, there is a poignancy to two of Kennedy’s final answers.

To the question about his “personal ambition”, Kennedy replies “to live comfortably” (which may, of course, be simply related to earning a good living but feels heart-rending given his later travails).

As for “what person in the world would you most like to meet”, Kennedy states Cassius Clay. A decade or so later and both were heavily involved in the Parkinson’s Disease Society, their portraits a familiar presence on the Underground, raising awareness of the pernicious neurological illness leading to tremors, slowness of movement and stiffness of limbs. For many, that was the image of Kennedy. For followers of Arsenal and Liverpool, and later Swansea City, Kennedy meant so much more.

The deep respect for Kennedy at Arsenal and Liverpool was why Highbury threw open its doors for his benefit match on April 27, 1991, in which Dalglish turned out for the Liverpool XI two months after his resignation as manager. It was why Pat Rice and George Armstrong, who’d crossed to him at White Hart Lane, came off the bench, wanting to honour their old colleague. Kennedy walked through the guard of honour, looking fit and lean in his grey suit, but Parkinson’s had long taken hold. There were few handshakes. Too difficult.

Arsenal and Liverpool rallied, and fans raised money through the Ray of Hope Appeal and showed their constant love for him, funding a new bathroom, little things that meant a huge deal to Kennedy (and also raised money for the Parkinson’s Society). It was why Liverpool and Arsenal fans formed mosaics displaying his shirt number, 5 and 10 respectively, when the teams played at Anfield in 2009.

Walking on to the pitch at half-time, the man himself managed a salute to the faithful, to those who will never, ever forget Ray Kennedy.