Like a good solid four-four-two, it's all fairly conventional documentary fare - a blend of vibrant colour shots, black and white archive footage, talking heads and flickering super-8 home video - but in oscillating around that now mythical 1966 summer day, to trials and tribulations before and since, Bobby paints a greater picture than mere eulogy. Moving personal testimony comes from Moore's family; his first wife, Tina, recalls their meeting, his diagnosis with testicular cancer in 1964 and the devastating psychological effects it caused, not least crippling insomnia, before dogged determination would see the irrepressible centre back return to form and lead England to World Cup glory on home soil. Scapegoated for failures of the mid-70s and rejected for the calibre of professional post due to him, depression led to marital breakdown and a bitter marginalisation from the limelight his playing days so richly deserved.
There is, however, a fair amount of adulation, and rightly so. Former teammates Geoff Hurst and Gordon Banks, Harry Redknapp, Gazza, and even Russell Brand, among others, all wax lyrical about what a top bloke old "Moore-o" was and it's hard to disagree with them. "The aura of a prince, a proper hero," is not undue praise for a player whose composed presence, on and off the pitch, draw plaudits from none other than Pele in light of that famous game against Brazil at the 1970 tournament - the one with that tackle and that save from Banks. An embrace at the final whistle, forever preserved in the beautiful game's photographic history, marks arguably the best ever post-match exchange of shirts. No matter what anyone says, it's never just a game. And Bobby Moore wasn't just the lucky chap to captain his country to World Cup victory. An officer and a gentleman on and off the pitch, whose like we may never see again, Bobby is indispensable nostalgia for lovers of the beautiful game.
Matthew Anderson | @behind_theseens