Ahead of Reading's first ever league visit to Old Trafford on Saturday, United Review takes a closer look at the career of former Reds' winger Steve Coppell...

In preparing a literary tribute to a winger, a football writer would not normally envisage bending over a thesaurus, looking up synonyms for ‘consistent’. That’s because wingers, by nature, are gamblers and mavericks. Football’s equivalent of the solo violinist, they’re temperamental, indulgent and often out of whack with the rest of the orchestra. They grow their hair long. They bet on the horses and like a lie-in. But if the subject of your story is Steve Coppell, these stereotypes must be revised.

On the face of it Coppell was every inch the traditional winger: a touchline-hugger who terrorised full-backs, scored goals and whipped in crosses from the byline. What separated him from the stereotype was that, unlike other wingers we’d known, he was not prone to lapses in form, concentration or confidence.

In fact, during his eight–year Old Trafford career, Coppell was so utterly dependable, so totally trustworthy and relentlessly reliable, that there were times when the routine excellence of his performances made you wonder if, deploying secret technology from their seats in the dug-out, United’s coaching staff might be directing his movements by remote control.

Tommy Docherty, the manager who brought him to Old Trafford, believes Coppell was the greatest signing of his managerial career – and, 29 years on, retains almost paternal affection for his former player. “Steve was one of the best players I ever had the privilege of working with,” he says. “I loved having him in my team because, as a manager, he gave you peace of mind. I never had to worry about him having a bad game, because he just didn’t have them. He was as reliable as a