When you think of iconic Premier League players from the ’90s, Eric Cantona has to be up there. The collar, the swagger, the arrogance. A player who knew how good he was and didn’t particularly need you to tell him.
Now, I’m a Leeds fan, so writing nice things about a Manchester United legend doesn’t come naturally. But sometimes you’ve just got to put the rivalry aside and appreciate a footballer. Even if you’re doing it through slightly gritted teeth.
I was only young when Cantona arrived at Leeds, but you could tell there was something different about him. We helped him find his feet in English football, and he helped us win the last First Division title before the Premier League began. What I don’t think we realised was just how much of an impact he was going to have on the game.
We barely had time to enjoy him before he was off to Old Trafford for around a million quid.
One of the biggest mistakes Leeds have ever made? Well, Jesus, we’ve had a few, so there’s some competition. But in terms of selling a player to a rival and then watching what he became, that one takes some beating.
It wasn’t just what Manchester United bought. It was what we’d handed them.
The collar alone had a career
The funny thing about Cantona is that something as simple as sticking his collar up became such a massive part of his identity.
It’s a collar. We’ve all got them. Yet somehow, on him, it became a statement.
Other people started copying it, and once people are copying the way you wear your shirt, you know you’ve made an impression. He had that presence about him. Almost like a don of the game. Chest out, collar up, looking around as though everyone else was playing on his pitch.
You could call it arrogance. I probably did when he was playing against Leeds. But he had the ability to back it up, which makes it considerably harder to argue with.
A bit of a loose cannon
Of course, you can’t talk about Cantona without mentioning his temper.
That flying kick at the supporter at Crystal Palace is one of those moments you still can’t quite believe happened. You’re watching a football match, and suddenly Eric’s launched himself into the crowd.
There’s losing your head, and then there’s that.
You can recognise that players are human and that abuse gets to them without pretending his reaction was acceptable. He crossed the line, massively. But it became part of the Cantona story because that unpredictability was always there. You never quite knew what was coming next.
A moment of genius? An argument? Something nobody in the stadium had even considered a possibility?
With Eric, you kept watching.
That chip. That celebration.
The moment I always come back to, though, is the chip against Sunderland at Old Trafford.
The finish itself was ridiculous. The awareness, the touch, the confidence to even try it. But then came the celebration.
He just turned, stood there and opened his arms, taking it all in.
It was almost like he was saying, “Well? What did you expect? I’m Eric Cantona.”
And the annoying thing is, after scoring a goal like that, what could you say?
Some players would have been halfway round Manchester celebrating. Cantona looked like he was waiting for everyone else to catch up with what he’d just done. That was him all over. Even standing still, he somehow made himself the centre of attention.
It pains me to admit it…
When people talk about Manchester United’s greatest players, he’s got to be in the conversation.
That’s gutting to say as a Leeds fan, but he suited that club. The stage, the expectations, the personality. Looking back, it felt like the right setting for him to become the player we remember.
Would he have become that same figure if he’d stayed at Leeds? We’ll never know. That’s probably another reason the transfer still stings.
I struggle to think of anyone in today’s game who gives me quite the same feeling. There are brilliant players, of course, but Cantona had a way of making you watch him even when he wasn’t doing anything. You wanted to see what he’d do next.
And what Manchester United would give for a player with that presence now. Someone who could walk onto the pitch, demand the ball and make everyone around him believe something was about to happen.
Love him or hate him, you remember him. And for a Leeds fan to spend this much time praising him, he must have been doing something right.
Eric Cantona. Bosh that collar up.