"His love for football had no off-switch" – Paul Hayward on Brian Glanville

Brian Glanville affected the air of one who had just walked into the press box from the theatre or a literary salon. There was seldom chance to ask because he was soon into one of his orations about the vital football issues of the day.

Glanville, who has died aged 93, was not the only cerebral football writer of his era. But he forged a path beyond the mass market Fleet Street lexicon of his day. A proponent of sharp prose, he nevertheless brought a novelist’s sensibilities to a sport that obsessed him.

In the mid-1960s he wrote that “British sports journalism… is still waiting for the columnist who can be read by intellectuals without shame and by working men without labour.” Developing that “idiom,” as he called it, was the challenge he set himself.

“One-nil, Napoli” he would cry behind you in the press box at Chelsea or Arsenal. Turning round you would see an old wireless radio cord hanging from his ear. He was announcing Serie A updates to colleagues who were far too busy typing to care what was happening in Italy.

His love for football, which was internationalist, had no off-switch. Writing about the game was the outlet for his extravagant confidence and trenchant views, which allowed him to speak to the great names as an equal, and condemn them without fear or favour.

Glanville had his blind spots. In 1990, he wrote: “Women’s football is a game that should only be played by consenting adults in private.” It is remarkable someone so intelligent could think something so ridiculous.

But as a writer who mocked the “happy clappers” who spoke fondly of the former England manager Graham Taylor when he died, Glanville wouldn’t have minded being called to account for his sexism. To him, journalism was adversarial.

In his deportment, Glanville was suitably Bohemian, or dishevelled, with mis-matched clothing and a writer’s slouch. At the 1994 World Cup in the USA, I was sitting with him when an American reporter approached. Bulgaria had put together a good run at that tournament and the American said to Glanville loudly: “Excuse me, are you Bulgarian, can you tell me about your team?” Glanville summoned his best Charterhouse accent and replied: “I’m not. But I can.” And he did.