They say you shouldn’t meet your heroes. Thank goodness I’ve never listened to that advice.
I’m still all of a doo-dah after meeting Eric Cantona a few days ago and a finer gentleman I’ve yet to encounter.
It had nothing to do with being a journalist, it was sheer luck for those of us in the lobby bar of the Hilton after his Aberdeen gig at P&J Live.
He was modest, kind, friendly and generous with his time. He was so different to his proud image, I wondered afterwards if it was really him.
(It was, I have the pictures to prove it.)
Eric Cantona at Aberdeen’s P&J Live
Cantona is utterly fascinating and yet he seemed genuinely interested in the rest of us.
He was smiley and welcoming when my friend James and I went over to say hello.
We talked, we fist-bumped, we took photos, he signed stuff, he mingled, met other people, and came back to talk to us again.
It was like watching a ball of light float around the room, pausing here and there while others bathed in its warmth.
And yet, he wasn’t starry at all. Cantona appeared unaware of his celebrity and was eager to chat to folk, as you do when you visit somewhere new.
He looked surprised and flattered by compliments.
How on Earth do you get to be Eric Cantona and still be taken aback when people tell you you’re great?
Is there a chance he thinks he’s not famous in Scotland?
Le Roi Cantona and the man we met
It was such a precious encounter, I almost didn’t want to share it here. Then I thought I should, for any fans as well as for him.
The experience was discombobulating. I couldn’t reconcile the image of Le Roi, confidence personified, collar turned up, with the gentle soul talking to a lady about his red suede boots.
At one point I found myself giving him career advice, in French. Then I remembered he is Eric Cantona. And I don’t speak French.
I mean, I speak O Level French. So I may have also asked him for directions to the railway station and said I liked to read and to draw.
We told him how much we had enjoyed the gig.
I said, in all sincerity: “You know, I loved you as a football player, but I think maybe music is really where you’re supposed to be.”
“It has to be, because this is what I’m doing now,” he laughed.
Cantona sings about Palestine at Aberdeen concert
We talked briefly, but seriously, about Palestine, a subject close to his heart. He has written a song about it.
An hour later, at the car park ticket machine, James switched on his phone and read that Iran had fired missiles towards Israel.
It was a sobering moment. I had a strong urge to run back to the Hilton and ask Eric Cantona what we should do. Silly really.
Leadership isn’t a job, it’s a quality
I look around at our leaders, all of them, and contrast them with Cantona.
He’s a reminder that leadership isn’t a job, it’s a personal quality. You either have it or you don’t.
We bandy the term hero about but Cantona is a hero to so many and for different reasons.
For football yes, but also for his charisma, his activism, and his creativity in everything he does.
My husband said this week that he couldn’t recall a time when every significant political power in the world was so badly led.
“Where are the Mandelas, the Gorbachevs or FDRs?” he lamented.
Everywhere I turn, there’s someone in charge, doing nothing terribly useful.
On Thursday EU foreign policy chief, Josep Borrell, heralded what we’ve long feared.
“We are on the edge of regional war in the Middle East, which will be sending shock waves to the rest of the world, and in particular to Europe,” he warned. “So stop it.”
We want to. But the Bidens, Sunaks, Camerons, Starmers and Lammys of the world are so busy playing politics they don’t seem to notice the body count.
In 1991, when Cantona received a one-month ban for throwing a ball at a referee, he walked up to each member of the panel and called them an idiot.
I wonder if I could ask him to do that again, just with a different set of people.
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Review: Eric Cantona bares his soul in song at P&J Live in Aberdeen
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