Frank O’Farrell enjoyed a life of football, family, and faith

Born in 1927, he lived on Friars Road in the shadow of Turner’s Cross, and after attending Christ the King school, continued the family tradition by joining Iarnród Éireann. It was while working as a fireman on the engines that he was enticed to Cork United, impressing over a six-month stint to attract an offer from West Ham United in January 1948.

The wing-half made 213 appearances for the Hammers, scoring eight goals and was recognised as the oldest living player in the club’s history up to his passing.

From Upton Park, he joined Preston North End in 1956 – playing alongside the man who would later replace him in the United hotseat, Tommy Docherty – before becoming player-manager with non-League Weymouth five years later. He won nine caps for Ireland.

Torquay United, for the first of three spells, was next up and then an opening at struggling Leicester City arrived. Their lowly position in the First Division midway through the season and ropey pitch at Filbert Street didn’t dissuade him and, by the end of that season, the joy of reaching the 1969 FA Cup final was countered by relegation.

The target set for him of promotion was achieved within two years but United, in particular Busby, felt he fitted their remit for handling their generational shift.

He was just the second boss, after Wilf McGuinness’s short stay, of the post-Matt Busby era and always felt undermined by the Scot’s continuance at the club as a director following his 25-year managerial marathon.

Busby only turned to the Leicester boss after being snubbed by Jock Stein and Don Revie and the chemistry was lacking from the first day of managing the biggest club in England.

O’Farrell wasn’t one for making a fuss but his principled backbone forced him to pull Busby up for assigning him a pokey office in the corner of the corridor. He wouldn’t have minded only for Busby had held on to the larger, luxurious room reserved for the club’s manager.

All appeared to be rosy by Christmas, when the team topped the table for the first time in three years, but the spine of the side that had lifted the European Cup five years earlier were showing their age.

While George Best was the exception, his lifestyle rendered him unreliable. Seven successive defeats early in the new year torpedoed their title challenge and the campaign petered out into an eighth-placed finish.

Although O’Farrell convinced Best to reverse his decision to retire that summer, at just 26, the only thing to catch fire in the new season were the flames engulfing the manager.

He did what others in the club deemed sacrilege by dropping Bobby Charlton – as he’d done to Peter Shilton at Leicester City – and the spectre of Busby’s presence loomed larger. That the legendary gaffer continued to play golf with the players fuelled the sense O’Farrell was being undermined.

With a rump of senior players indifferent and a cohort of recruits off the pace, the slide came to a head in December 1972. On the back of a 5-0 hammering at Crystal Palace that sunk United to second from bottom, O’Farrell was summoned. “A nice day for an execution,” amounted to his dark-humoured comment as the axe was sharpened six days before Christmas.

Just as he did on his way in, O’Farrell showed his determined side during his exit. United chose to play hardball by initially refusing to compensate him for the remainder of his five-year contract, leaving O’Farrell with no choice except to visit the dole office weekly to support his legal case. The action was settled on the eve of the court date.

Understandably soured by the experience at his dream job, the Irishman accepted an offer to prematurely jettison his next post in the UK at Cardiff City for the job of managing Iran. The change of scene, including an Asian Cup triumph, rekindled his attachment to the game but despite a comeback route tabled by Newcastle United he was happy to step away from mainstream management in 1982 to concentrate on the Catholic church and charity work.

Respect was O’Farrell’s calling card throughout a life fully lived, even if that wasn’t always reciprocated.

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.