'Life was normal. I grew up around England legends, world superstars and Portsmouth greats': The son of ex-Everton, Arsenal and Southampton hero Alan Ball on a cherished childhood

The 1966 World Cup-winning heroes were his uncles, family friends and, in the case of one of them, a dad.

As the son of the late Alan Ball, it was a cherished childhood growing up around England’s greatest football team and giants of the international game.

Sadly, following last month’s passing of George Cohen, just two living members remain – yet that remarkable band of brothers can never be separated.

‘Jack Charlton was a real character, dad loved him. They had an amazing relationship,’ Jimmy Ball told The News.

‘I last saw him at Gordon Banks’ funeral, when he was very, very poorly with dementia. With Jack being ill, I didn’t want to confuse him, another person saying “Hello”, so instead greeted his wife, Pat.

‘Pat’s lovely and, although I wasn’t keen on bothering him, she insisted on telling Jack I was there. Then she added: “Now, you watch this”.

‘She went up to Jack and said “Do you remember Bally?” and his face suddenly lit up. With a big smile, he replied “Bally? That little so-and-so. Where is he?”. There was a real sparkle in those eyes.

‘His wife explained: “No, no, no, he’s not here. This is his son”. Jack responded with “I love Bally”, shook my hand – and was gone again.

‘I had to walk away, I was absolutely in bits, it was incredible. That got me, I was crying. He remembered dad.

‘These were lovely, lovely men who achieved something special together. That kinship and brotherhood never left them, they all loved each other.’

Aged 21 and the youngest member of an England squad which claimed the World Cup in July 1966, Alan Ball was one of the original footballing superstars.

He spent a decade as an international regular, registering 72 appearances and eight goals, while domestically totalled more than a century of appearances at each of Blackpool, Everton, Arsenal and Southampton.

An infectious passion for football would inevitably usher Ball into coaching and he led Pompey into the top flight in May 1987, an accomplishment ranked as his finest during almost 20 years of football management.

And a mesmerised observer was his son and youngest of three children.

Now aged 47, Jimmy added: ‘My childhood was so normal. George Best in the house, World Cup winners visiting, Peter Shilton sat on the sofa on a Sunday morning after staying the night, answering the phone and it’s Bobby Moore wanting to speak to your dad. Normal.

‘Everyone will go “What?”, they cannot comprehend that, but I have nothing to compare it to. It was my dad and that was our life. We holidayed in Majorca with Johan Cruyff, I didn’t know who he was, but that was normal. They were just dad’s mates.

‘Bobby (Moore) was an immaculate human being, perfect. The way he looked, the way he was, the way he dressed, immaculate. I called him “Uncle Bob”, he was wonderful, giving me as much time as he’d give a King or Queen.

‘Nobby Stiles and dad roomed together with England the whole time. They loved each other, genuinely loved each other. Two northern lads, growing up together, kicking lumps out of each other their whole careers – and loved each other. Nobby spoke at dad’s funeral.

‘When dad was Pompey manager, he’d take me along to training. I nicked off school all the time to go with him and once hid under his scouting coats in the back of his car. When we arrived at Pompey, I jumped up and said “All right dad”. I never did it again, he’d check under his coat from then on!

‘I went to Thornden School in Chandler’s Ford, we had homework diaries and I was forging my mum’s signature from day one. I was absent with the flu, tonsillitis or whatever, I just wanted to be around football, whether playing down the park or at Pompey.

‘I’d watch the players train, collect the balls, make them cups of tea, clean their boots, and, as I got older, tried to get involved with the youth teams.

‘My favourite player was Micky Kennedy. One minute I’d be chatting to him, Noel Blake the next, then Kenny Swain, then Mick Tait. I’d get a clip around the ear every now and again if a bit cheeky or chirpy, but all were great with me.

‘I’d follow Vince Hilaire around like a puppy as he always gave me his used New Balance boots, having the same sized feet as a nine-year-old!

‘Then, when dad went back to his Fratton Park office afterwards, I’d run around the stadium, driving the groundsman and security staff crazy. I know every inch of that fantastic club.

‘They were a group of characters, always up to something. When Mick Quinn came out of Winchester Prison having been convicted of driving while disqualified, the very next training session they had a box of masks with his face on.

‘With Quinny still banned from driving, the police were sat outside the training ground, keeping an eye on him – and that day every one of that team left in their cars wearing these masks.

‘I was laughing, while the old man shook his head. That summed them up.

‘They called themselves the “Gremlins” because they were trouble when they got wet. Dad loved personalities, he didn’t want wall flowers – he wanted men.’

Naturally, Jimmy would be drawn towards following in his father’s footsteps and becoming a professional footballer.

He represented Pompey and Bournemouth at schoolboy level, before earning a two-year scholarship at Exeter City, while later represented Southampton reserves, before retiring at 22.

Instead he embarked on a coaching career which has seen him spend six years with Stoke’s Academy and steer Forest Green Rovers into the League Two play-offs while caretaker boss.

He is presently manager of AFC Totton, placed second in Southern League Division One South.

‘Let’s get it right, dad was a world-class footballer. I would have been happy just to be 20 per cent as good as him – but everyone was expecting me to be at that level,’ added Jimmy.

‘I am not ashamed of it, not many people have achieved that. I was a poor player and, although at Exeter for a bit and then Southampton for a short time, never good enough.

‘I puffed my chest out and had a go, but, with hindsight and these days being more knowledgeable about anxiety, I was actually frightened to death.

‘There was that bravado. I was aged 18, fit, strong, could run all day and fight anyone on the football pitch – but petrified I couldn’t live up to dad. Not that I realised it at the time.

‘Somebody once wrote a letter to the Southern Daily Echo about me. I was playing in a Sunday League team called BRSA, from Eastleigh, and in the side instead of their son.

‘They claimed it was because of my dad. Yet dad had nothing to do with that team, he never even came to watch. It was a regular accusation.

‘As a schoolboy I had three YTS options, including Bournemouth and Pompey, but chose to go on trial at Exeter, where dad was first-team manager.

‘I know my dad, he would have gone to Exeter’s coaches beforehand and said “Do not pick him for me”. My conscience is completely clear, there is no possible way he would have selected me purely because I was his son. He didn’t lie to me and I didn’t lie to him.

‘I later trained at Southampton, on non-contract forms and appearing for the reserves. Dad was manager and one day pulled me into his office to inform me there wouldn’t be anything at the end of the season. I remember the words: “You’re not going to be good enough”.

‘I totally agreed, it was an easy conversation for us. He was right. My immediate response was “I know”.

‘I had already come to that conclusion. In training I was stretched to the max every day, you can’t sustain that. I knew I had to drop down the levels.

‘Dad never said I wasn’t good enough to play football at all, but Southampton was the Premier League. I couldn’t agree more, get me out of here.

‘I moved to non-league, with spells at Petersfield and BAT. It should have suited me, but I hated every minute of it and I was out at the age of 22, retired. It just wasn’t for me.’

In April 2007, Alan Ball tragically became the second member of England’s World Cup-winning side to pass away.

Neighbours had called the fire brigade to deal with a blaze in the back garden of the 61-year-old’s Warsash home, where they subsequently found him dead outside, having suffered a heart attack.

Ball had attempted to put out the fire using a bucket and a jug, with a path of worn grass reflecting his frantic route.

Jimmy said: ‘I watched my mum die from cancer for three years and that was horrific, trust me.

‘Had dad been hospitalised through illness, that would have been worse than death for him. So to be alive one minute and dead the next is not a bad way to go.

‘Nobody knows how the fire happened. There was a compost heap at the bottom of the garden, a fire caught the fence and then spread to his tree. Dad decided to take it on.

‘He had a hosepipe right next to him, he had a phone to call the fire brigade, but chose to fill up a bucket of water and jug and put it out himself.

‘It probably sums him up, that was his competitive nature. I can picture dad running up and down that garden saying “Come on then, let’s have it. Me against you”. I wish he had phoned the fire brigade.

‘Dad was relatively fit, every day he’d walk his dog Louie for three-and-a-half miles, along the beach by Solent Breezes Holiday Park, while played golf two or three times a week. But he enjoyed good food and liked a rum and coke or red wine.

‘I don’t get emotional thinking about it, I’m not still grieving. I realised straight after what a lucky, lucky lad I was to have my best mate as my dad – and we had such fantastic times together.

‘There were holidays, we golfed, we went horse racing, with Ascot our favourite. He loved his cricket too, we travelled to The Ashes in Australia with Mick Channon, although it was a series 5-0 whitewash.

‘We had gone past father and son, we were best mates. We had some brilliant times – no-one can ever take that away.’

George Cohen passed away two days before Christmas at the age of 83, a pacy right-back who featured in every minute of that triumphant 1966 World Cup campaign.

It leaves Geoff Hurst and Bobby Charlton as the last living members of that famous side – and the only ones to have received knighthoods for their achievements.

‘After dad died in 2007, I was around his house when the phone rang,’ added Ball.

‘I answered and it was Hampshire’s Chief Constable, who asked where we planned on having the funeral. Well, it was going to be Southampton Crematorium, where mum’s was held.

‘He replied “You’ve got no chance”. It turned out Hampshire Constabulary had received more than 30,000 enquiries about it. I was told our choices for getting remotely close to coping with such numbers were Winchester Cathedral or Romsey Abbey.

‘The day of the funeral was mind-blowing. We turned into the road approaching Winchester Cathedral and it was packed on both sides. Breathtaking.

‘Inside the cathedral, fans wearing Pompey shirts were sat next to fans wearing Southampton shirts, Sir Alex Ferguson was a few rows behind me, while the service was broadcast live on Sky and BBC, with speakers positioned outside so everyone could hear.

‘Dad wouldn’t have wanted the bother, without a shadow of a doubt, and would never have believed such a reaction to his death.

‘This was just my dad, a little lad from Farnworth, near Bolton. He walked his dogs, loved football, loved racing and loved a pint. Just my dad.’