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Published: 18th March 2010

Peter Jones, a former director at Plymouth Argyle, drove Michael Foot up and down the country for matches – home and away. Here is the tribute he made at his friend’s funeral

• I’M going to talk about the role of Plymouth in Michael’s story and, of course, Plymouth Argyle will get a mention or two.
Michael was born in Plymouth, in Freedom Fields hospital. It was close to, and named after the location of a famous Parliamentarian victory over the Royalists in 1643.
Michael’s father, Isaac, was a real man of Plymouth, devoted to the city. He made a great contribution, both by building a successful law practice, and in public service, becoming Lord Mayor in 1945.
In June of the same year Michael was adopted as Labour candidate for Devonport, just a month before the election. He was not expected to win.
The Western Morning News had him down for a comprehensive defeat at the hands of the Tory. But when the votes were counted Michael had won, with a majority of over 2,000. Michael worked very hard as a constituency MP, and he had to. The place had been badly damaged by the Luftwaffe, with thousands of homes destroyed, as well as the commercial centre. Plymouth ended up doing a pretty good job of recovery; Michael’s advocacy of the city played a major role in that.
Michael lost the seat in 1955. But Plymouth had done its job, in three ways. It gave Michael his roots and his foundations. It launched his parliamentary career. And it provided the stage for the development of his relationship with Jill.
Jill was making her documentary The Way We Live about the planned reconstruction of the city over 1944 and 1945. It was a great film, and a great relationship, one that endured for 55 years.
However, there was just one of Michael’s passions that Jill simply could not get her head around. And that was his passion for Argyle.
Michael went to his first match in 1921, and supported the club loyally, some would say through thin and thin, from then on.
Here’s something written by Sarah Foot [Michael’s niece] in 1980: He enjoyed every minute of those matches, and would shout and cheer louder than anyone else in the entire crowd at Home Park. When Plymouth Argyle was defeated, there was a general air of gloom around the house, and just as much rejoicing when they won.
Actually Sarah didn't write those words about Michael. She wrote them about Isaac. But they applied to Michael every bit as much, and more. Throughout the 1930s, Argyle had a Scottish left-winger called Sammy Black. He became and remained Michael’s footballing hero.
Michael once wrote of Sammy Black: His shot with either foot was a good deal more deadly than one of Sir Francis Drake’s cannonballs. Praise indeed. There were plenty more Argyle heroes over the years. But no one quite like Sammy Black.
After Michael stepped down from frontline politics, he and I travelled up and down the country to support the team. One of the great things for me was witnessing the affection in which he was held – and also the respect that people showed.
Michael could be disarming on those trips. A friend of mine wrote to me, reminding me of a time we’d taken him to a game at Selhurst Park.
We turned up at the away end. Michael was asked if he had an offensive weapon on him. At which point he pulled a battered copy of Milton’s Selected Works out of his coat pocket, and gave the steward a lecture about how the poetry of Milton had been one of the most important weapons in England’s history.
In 2001 I had the chance to put together a small consortium to take over the club. The Pilgrims, as they’re known, were really struggling at the time. I felt I was making progress and I went up to Pilgrims Lane to tell Michael what I was up to. In the kitchen there, I negotiated a path through all the books stacked up, and told him about the plans. Michael’s instant response was: can I be part of this group?
He joined up there and then, becoming a Companies House director for the first time in his life at the age of 88. During his four years on the board Argyle won the championships of both League 2 and League 1. Attendances quadrupled, the ground was three-quarters rebuilt, the club moved into profit.
I reckon that makes Michael about the most successful director in its history. There was a fine dinner to mark the club’s centenary in the summer of 2004. What Michael liked the most was the identity of the guest of honour.  It was Sammy Black’s daughter.
When Michael’s 90th was coming up, we were struggling to come up with an idea for a present. Someone suggested that we should register him as a player.
The Football League was called, they were fine about it, as Michael was a free agent, and he was duly registered, with the squad number 90. Michael didn’t make it onto the pitch. But he did appear in the programme, and he had an official player profile.
It read: Evergreen left winger, who brings plenty of experience. Unlikely to stray out of position and drift towards the right.
Michael drew much from Plymouth and from Plymouth Argyle. But what he gave back to the city and the football club over his long life was immeasurable.
He’ll be sorely missed.