The good old days

Apocryphal perhaps. But a tale worth retelling, as it concerns one of football's immortals, the late Joe Baker of Hibs, Torino and England. Nicky Campbell in The Guardian recounts:

Baker told the story brilliantly in a Radio Scotland documentary made not long before he died, speaking, of course, in his broad West of Scotland accent.
"At Heathrow I jumped in a taxi and this cockney driver says 'Where are you going' so I told him the Hendon Hotel. The driver said 'That's where the England team stay' and I said 'Aye, I'm playing for them Wednesday night'. And the driver never said another thing for the next quarter of an hour." After the long silence, Baker noticed a police car roaring up behind them, and the next thing he knew the taxi had pulled over and two cops "with braided hats" came up to the window. The driver had been on his radio and called the police. He'd assumed he had a dangerous lunatic in the back of his cab.
"So you are playing for England, are you?" said one of the coppers sarcastically.
Baker recalled: "I said 'Aye' and he didnae understand me. So I said 'Yes' instead. Luckily Desmond Hackett had written in the Daily Express that day 'Why bring a Scotsman to play for England?' and I had the paper. I said 'Look, that's me' and the policeman turned to his mate and said 'God, Fred. Are we that bad?'"

Joe Baker, great man, great footballer.