It will never not jar that the manager who brought the exuberantly gifted Jay-Jay Okocha to English football was a man chiefly known for producing stolid, soul-sapping fare.
So ultra-prudent was Sam Allardyce’s managerial mandate for the bulk of his career it brings to mind that mate we all have, the one who never strays further than chicken and chips when ordering in a restaurant, suddenly from nowhere requesting braised rabbit pappardelle off the menu.
If it still surprises twenty years on that the brilliant Nigerian rocked up in Bolton of all places at the height of his powers, the individual responsible for the move remains a plot-twist too far.
Perhaps though, we are doing Allardyce a major disservice because even if in later years he became associated with rudimentary football - all four-four-two and passion and hold the ingenuity - at the Reebok Stadium around the turn of the century he created a near-masterpiece; a treat for the eyes that routinely subverted the football betting online by finishing inside the top ten for four consecutive seasons.
At the back, Fernando Hierro was class personified, displaying the pedigree that made him a pivotal presence for so long at Real Madrid. Ahead of him, Ivan Campo orchestrated proceedings, one of the best midfielders in Premier League history with a passing range to die for.
Down the flanks Ricardo Gardner scampered, magnificent on his day and usually released by the cultured left foot of Gary Speed.
And then in 2002, disillusioned in Paris, and correctly surmising that Ronaldinho was set to take his place, along came Jay-Jay Okocha on a free. A player so good they named him twice.
𝑺𝒐 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒆 🔥#OnThisDay in 2002, @OfficialBWFC signed the one and only @IAmOkocha 🇳🇬 pic.twitter.com/TkCBOK6fcI
— Premier League (@premierleague) June 18, 2020
For four sublime, surreal years, until normality was restored, the playmaker from Enugu State made the old feel young and turned crowds into audiences courtesy of an array of tricks and flicks that defied logic.
He frolicked and dribbled to the point where defenders were doomed either way. Guess and commit and he could make the very best look very stupid. Wait and see, and he was gone.
In his debut campaign, he fired seven goals to help fend off relegation, one of which remains pristine in the memory, a solo effort that began in the Trotters’ half before being arrowed in from range.
The following year, handed the captaincy, he inspired his team to a Wembley final in the League Cup, scoring two astonishing free-kicks in a semi-final thrashing of Aston Villa. The second of these is YouTube heaven. It makes you question elementary things you learnt in school.
All told there were 124 exhibitions of his majesty and then, with the same fleetness-of-foot that saw him arrive, he was gone.
In 2017, Bolton supporters voted Okocha the greatest player to ever grace their stadium but his impact extends beyond Greater Manchester, to a British public who had never before seen the like.
Which brings us back to the arch-contrarian Allardyce and the most delicious contradiction of them all. Two decades ago, this managerial dinosaur showed us the future. We should always be grateful for that.
*Credit for all of the photos in this article belongs to AP Photo*
