We awoke to sad news on November 17, 2006. After a long illness, Ferenc Puskás, the brightest star of Hungarian football, passed away.
Öcsi Puskás's fantastic career began in Nagyvárad on December 5, 1943. He was not yet 17 when he made his debut for Kispest. He had only just turned 18 when he celebrated his first appearance for the national team with a goal. He was only 23 when he could already call himself a Hungarian champion with Budapesti Honvéd. During his career he accumulated success after success: he was a Hungarian and Spanish champion, European Cup winner, Hungarian and Spanish top scorer, Intercontinental Cup winner, Olympic champion and World Cup silver medallist, and represented the Hungarian, Spanish and world select teams alike. His coaching career was also marked by success: he won the league in Greece, while in Australia he won both the league title and the cup with his team, South Melbourne Hellas. His greatest achievement, however, was undoubtedly with Panathinaikos, whom he led all the way to the European Cup final in the 1970-71 season.
His game was characterised by exceptional explosiveness, perfect ball control, unpredictable dribbling, incredibly inventive and imaginative solutions, accurate passing, extraordinary awareness and brilliant shooting technique.
When he died, not only the Hungarian nation but the whole world mourned the legendary footballer. Posterity has not forgotten the legend. In Kispest, which he loved, a street and a school bear his name. Statues commemorate our club's and the national team's legendary number 10 in Óbuda, Szentes, and in front of KÖKI and the Magyar Futball Akadémia, among other places. The Kispesti Futball Ház preserves his memory with an exhibition, the Reménység Catholic Primary School in the district has a memorial corner, while at the entrance to the school on Szegfű Street a plaque shared with József Bozsik recalls the Kispest football genius.
Ferenc Puskás is well described by the timeless thought of the poet Árpád Tóth (although some attribute it to the Belgian Maurice Maeterlinck): only those who are forgotten truly die; those who were deeply loved live forever.
