Cheers, Tears and Jeers: A History of England and the World Cup

By Gary Thacker

Winning the World Cup in 1966 was the high watermark in the history of the England national football team. Both before and after The Day, however, the Three Lions have a chequered history in the world’s biggest footballing event. This book seeks to chart a path through that history, stopping for contemplation at various points on the way. It’s a journey full of highs and lows, with memories both golden and tarnished, and an occasional dip into some iconic games and events where England weren’t involved.

Completed ahead of the World Cup Finals of 2018, the book offers an account of the story up until that event. How will England fare in Russia? Only time will tell, but perhaps a review of the history up until that time may give an indication as to why it ended up as it did.

It’s a tale of smiles and frowns, of joys and sorrow, and indeed of Cheers, Tears and Jeers. It’s the history of England and the World Cup.

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Writing any book can be a fearsome venture. This particular tome took almost three years to complete before it even reached the hands of the publishers.

Research into hundreds of games covering many, many decades was a test of commitment and dedication. Sourcing information, searching old newspapers, countless delving into YouTube videos and any number of reference books, writing, rewriting, double-checking, amending, rewrites—and then repeat. Still with the possibility of occasional errors creeping through. With such a plethora of facts and stats, please forgive any that may have stealthily escaped the critical eyes of umpteen checks and reviews ahead of publication.

It’s difficult to look back now and consider the opportunity cost for the time spent in getting to this stage, but that moment of joy when the job was completed, pays for all.

My aim was to write a history as a neutral observer. As a fan, teasing away the partisan emotion wasn’t easy. I hope I’ve broadly achieved that though. I also hope that you find this book both interesting and enjoyable to read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley
• Release date: Apr 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463007525

Gary Thacker

Gary was born in 1956 in a working-class area of the West Midlands. Football has been a continuing background music to his life, as was detailed in his semi-autobiographical book “I Don’t Even Smoke!”, written under his pen name ‘All Blue Daze.’ He has been writing about the ‘beautiful game’ since 2010, with much of his work featuring in magazines and high-profile websites. His collected works can be found on his website www.allbluedaze.com. Gary is married to Sue. They have a daughter, Megan, and a son, Gregory.

Book preview

About the Author

Born in a working-class area of the West Midlands, Gary’s professional career encompassed an eclectic mix of director and managerial roles across a wide spectrum of industries including aggregates and recycling, construction, retail and most latterly in design and marketing within the creative industries.

An enthusiastic, if extremely limited, playing ability was finally abandoned in his sixth decade as realisation inevitably dawned that aching limbs and complaining joints were calling time on such exertions,

Gary holds a number of FA coaching qualifications and was a member of the now-defunct FA Coaches Association for many years, coaching various teams and age groups ranging from children through to adult.

As well as being a long-time member of Mensa, he also holds an Honours degree in Political Science and Economics.

Football has been a continuing background music to Gary’s life, as was detailed in his semi-autobiographical book I Don’t Even Smoke!, written under his pen name ‘All Blue Daze’.

He has been writing about the ‘beautiful game’ since 2010, with much of his work featuring in magazines and high-profile websites. In 2017, he was awarded Senior Writer status for These Football Times and was later shortlisted for the Football Supporters’ Federation ‘Blogger of the Year’ award.

His collected works can be found on his website www.allbluedaze.com.

Gary is married to Sue. They have a daughter, Megan, and a son, Gregory.

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Dedication

This work is dedicated particularly to Sue, Megan and Gregory.

You are my world.

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A History of England and the World Cup

Published by Austin Macauley at Smashwords

Copyright 2018 Gary Thacker

The right of Gary Thacker to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the

Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All Rights Reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with the written permission of the publisher, or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended). Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is

Available from the British Library.

www.austinmacauley.com

A History of England and the World Cup , 2018

ISBN 978-1-78848-755-9 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-78848-756-6 (Hardback)

ISBN 978-1-78848-757-3 (Kindle E-Book)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd.

First Published in 2018

AustinMacauley Publishers.LTD/

CGC-33-01, 25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf, London E14 5LQ

Acknowledgements

I am immensely lucky to have a number of people in my life who always supported, and believed in me during the many and varied phases of my life, especially when times were difficult, and the going was tough. Saying ‘thank you’ hardly seems adequate, as without such people this book would surely not have been possible. Please, know that I love you and owe you so much.

Thanks to those who always supported and believed in me.

You are my strength.

Thanks also to those who only ever doubted me.

You are my inspiration.

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Contents

Introduction: Some People Are on the Pitch…

Part 1: When Football Came Home.

Part 2

Well Before The Day

Brazil 1950 – Hello World!

Switzerland 1954 – Complicated Formats, Unexpected Exits and a ‘Miracle’ in the Final

Sweden 1958 – Tragedy, a Tournament of Neighbors and a ‘Coming-Out’ Party

Chile 1962 – Slide-Rules, Farewell to Walter, Hello to Alf and a Little Bird That Sent England Home.

Part 3

The Days Since The Day – After the Lord Mayor’s Show

Mexico 1970 – Titanic Struggles, Heat and Leads That Just Melted Away

West Germany 1974 – The End of Innocence

Argentina 1978 – Failed Gambles, Desertion and Ally’s Army

Spain 1982 – We’re back. For a While at least

Part 4

The Days Since The Day – A New Beginning?

Mexico 1986 – Things that Change, Things that Don’t and Celestial Interference

Italy 1990 – Hope, Penalties and Having a Word

USA 1994 – Route One and Root Vegetables?

Do I Not Like That!

France 1998 – Saints and Sinners, Michael and David

Part 5

The Days Since The Day – If You Can’t Beat ’em, and Can’t Join ’em, Get Them to Join You.

South Korea/Japan 2002 – Five Joys, Sweet Revenge and Not So Safe Hands

Germany 2006 – The Golden Generation, Metatarsals, 12 Yards and its That Man Again

South Africa 2010 – Rainy Days and Sunny Periods, Don Fabio and ‘Loyal Fans’.

Part 6

The Days Since The Day – 2014 and into Tomorrow.

Brazil 2014 – Back to Basics, Young Hopefuls, but Old Stories.

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Introduction

Some People Are on the Pitch…

If you’re old enough, or quite probably even if you’re not, you’ll know the quote. It’s the final seconds of extra-time in the 1966 World Cup Final, after England had been dragged back from the brink of victory when Wolfgang Weber netted an 89th minute equaliser to take the Wembley final into extra-time. There had been the ‘was it / wasn’t it’ drama of Geoff Hurst’s crossbar strike that cannoned down and, to some, appeared clearly to have crossed the line; to others, much less so. The goal, however, stood, and the game was nearly up. Time was ticking away, and now, some people were on the pitch

Commentating for the BBC, Kenneth Wolstenholme saw the ball cleared from the England box. The camera panned towards the referee, who placed the whistle in his mouth. It’s all over, I think, surmised Wolstenholme, presumptuously. Out on the pitch, Bobby Charlton looked at the man in black, silently echoing the commentator’s assumption as Gottfried Dienst strode past him. Dienst was a native of Switzerland, however, and the Swiss are very particular about timing. The referee dashed the hopes of commentator and player alike—not to mention tens of thousands at the stadium and millions watching on television—waving his arms forward indicating play should keep going. There was time yet.

Out to the left of England’s penalty area, Bobby Moore looked up and rather than smashing the ball anywhere out of harm’s way to eat up the last few seconds, deftly played a clipped ball fifty yards forward to West Ham United club mate, Geoff Hurst. The striker had already scored twice—although some may wish to debate the second—but as the ball landed at his feet, with just a single German defender vaguely in the vicinity, immortality beckoned.

Hurst collected and headed towards goal. Out on the right, the tireless Alan Ball was screaming for a pass. It’s questionable if Hurst even heard him above the clamour of the crowd. If he did, he paid no heed.

Now, whether or not some fans had made the same mistaken assumption as Wolstenholme a few seconds earlier is difficult to say. Perhaps thinking the game was over, they appeared intent on getting onto the pitch to celebrate. And here comes Hurst, chimed in Wolstenholme observantly. He’s got…Some people are on the pitch, he continued, not missing a thing, as the interlopers entered Wembley’s verdant playing area.

Hurst ran forward with the ball to the edge of the West Germany penalty area. They think it’s all over, said Wolstenholme, as if reading their minds. For the fans watching, as Hurst closed on goal, there was no need for mind-reading. Guessing Geoff Hurst’s intentions was pretty straightforward. The striker probably wasn’t even aware of the encroaching supporters, being far less concerned with any events not involving ball and goal as he closed in on Hans Tilkowski. From about ten yards, he lashed an unstoppable shot inside the near post as Tilkowski looked on. It is now, this time correctly surmised the commentator. It’s four! he continued, illustrating that in the Wolstenholme household the study of basic mathematics had not been wantonly ignored.

Ball in the net, crowd in delirium and England as World Champions, Hurst trotted to his right to meet the embrace of Alan Ball who was now probably contented that his team-mate had done the necessary, rather than squaring the ball.

I was nine years old at the time. A few months short of my tenth birthday and it was probably the first World Cup Finals that I can properly remember. I believe that I do recall snippets of the 1962 Finals in Chile, but sometimes it’s difficult to identify where memory ends and research of old games begins. Safe to say though, ‘1966 and all that’ was my first proper World Cup as a football fan.

Sir Alf Ramsey, or just plain Alf as he was in those days, had forecast in flat, unemotional tones that England would win the World Cup in 1966. And we did. To be honest, I think it was the very matter-of-fact approach of Sir Alf that fed into my burgeoning understanding of England’s place in the football world at the time. It was to leave a mark that would stay for a while.

Ramsey had taken over stewardship of a nation’s dreams following the resignation of Walter Winterbottom. It hadn’t exactly been a roaring success early on. A failure to qualify for the 1964 European Championships had been as flat as the clipped tones the manager had acquired. The promise of glory in ’66, however, had sustained things. As hosts, qualification was automatic but whether it was foresight, confidence or a morale-boost for his players, Ramsey made his prediction.

In fairness, the former Ipswich manager wasn’t a tub-thumping, heart-on-the-sleeve braggart, wrapped in the flag of St George offering hope to all and sundry, whilst simultaneously crossing his fingers and praying for the best. Today is Tuesday. Tomorrow will be Wednesday. It’s as simple as that. Night follows day. Of course, it does. England will win the World Cup. Yes, they will. It was Wednesday, darkness did fall, and England were World Champions. It all seemed that inevitable, at least to my naïve thought process anyway. A process that, at this stage, was unsullied with doubt and failure. All of that was yet to come, but to my young eyes, there was not even a dark spot on my horizon. Banks, Cohen, Wilson, Stiles, Charlton (J), Moore, Ball, Hunt, Charlton (R), Hurst, Peters. Eleven heroes who had made England World Champions. Oh yes, and Sir Alf. But he’d seen it coming from a long way off, hadn’t he?

Ever the gentleman, wiping his hands on the velvet draped over the Royal Box to avoid sullying the Queen’s pristine gloves with mud from the pitch, Bobby Moore walked up to collect the trophy. A slight but noticeable bow before taking the Jules Rimet Trophy in hand, Moore turned and showed the small trophy with the big significance to the crowd. 30 July 1966. What a day that was. It was The Day!

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Part 1

When Football Came Home

The Days Before The Day

On 22 August 1960, FIFA met at a congress in Rome to decide where the 1996 World Cup Finals would be held. Originally there were three countries vying for the honour and the automatic qualification place that came with being named as hosts. Along with England were West Germany and Spain. The Spaniards would withdraw before the final vote, however, after being provisionally awarded the finals in 1974 or 1982. Presaging the events of that July afternoon in 1966, it just left England and West Germany as the final two, duking it out. When the votes were counted, England had won by 34 to 27. According to reports, there were no contentious crossbar events to cloud the issue.

Three years later, Alf Ramsey would declare with simple candour that in the competition, his England team would prevail. Three years after that, they delivered on their manager’s assertion. Strangely though, before they won the World Cup, England actually lost it.

Back then, television news was a pretty stodgy affair, with none of those, ‘And finally…’ slots, where a bear has learned to play Waltzing Matilda on a piccolo. Had there been though, to my young eyes that’s where news of the World Cup being snaffled away from a stamp exhibition would have featured. It just didn’t seem that serious. It was going to turn up. No one in their right mind was going to try and sell the World Cup to a ‘fence’ or hide it under their pillow for a prank.

It was in March 1966, just four months before the World Cup was to kick-off. For some reason, the Football Association had agreed to loan out the trophy to the organisers of the ‘Stanley Gibbons Stampex’ event being held at Westminster Central Hall, from where some ‘chummy’ decided to have it away on his toes after lifting the trophy from its glass display case, despite what was described at the time as a heavy security presence.

Despite the loss, the organiser of the event, John Shearer remained adamant that security precautions had been adequate and put the loss down to ‘human error’. Talk at the time was that someone had nodded off to sleep whilst the act was being perpetrated. A week went by, and gradually, the situation began to look serious, before it took on a sort of Ealing Comedy farce appearance.

The FA received what was later described as a hoax ransom note, demanding the princely sum of £15,000 for the trophy’s safe return. Despite the insurance policy on the trophy being worth £30,000, it seemed that its actual value was around £3,000, meaning it would have been far cheaper for the FA to write-off the theft, replace the trophy and be £27,000 up on the deal.

Whether or not the thieves got wind of all this is unknown, but on 28 March, David Corbett was walking his dog Pickles near his south London home. All was normal until Corbett noticed the dog paying more than the usual amount of attention to a particular shrub. Investigating, Corbett found a screwed-up newspaper and wrapped inside was the Jules Rimet Trophy like some discarded haddock and three penneth.

Pickles became an overnight celebrity and whilst being filmed by ITN showing where the trophy had been found, rather than portray the part of a canine sleuth, decided instead to do what dogs do around shrubs and trees. The trophy was returned, and no-one was ever charged with the theft. Corbett reportedly received £6,000 as a reward for Pickles’ inquisitiveness, plus an invite a few months later to the players’ banquet after the trophy had been won. Pickles was launched into a film career starring in ‘The Spy with the Cold Nose’. No, honestly. It’s true. At least now the trophy was back and when the cream of the world’s footballing talent assembled in England a few months later, there would be a pot to play for.

Talking of pots, details of the financial rewards on offer to England’s players were hardly likely to fire dreams of a jet-set lifestyle. Each member of the England World Cup team would receive a minimum of £1,000 if they won the trophy, sharing a bonus of £22,000. If they lost the final, each man would receive a match fee of £60. Prices were certainly a lot different fifty-odd years ago, but even by contemporary standards, it’s safe to say that the players weren’t in it for the money.

Unsurprisingly, the bookmakers at the time were offering less than generous odds on England landing the big prize, and had priced the host nation as favourites. With the Hungarian destruction of English invulnerability becoming a bit of a memory now, there were plenty of punters prepared to take the patriotic plunge. More modern editions of the World Cup Finals have months of hype, building up England’s chances, but this was pretty much the level of things in the sixties. It doesn’t take much to burst a balloon though.

Ahead of the tournament, Ramsey had decided to take his players on a short European tour to hone their fitness, tactics and team play. On 26 June, England beat Finland 3-0 in Helsinki. Three days later, after the manager had made no less than ten changes to the starting eleven, with only Roger Hunt retained, England faced Norway in Oslo. A 6-1 triumph resulted, and reports of the game emphasised the importance of Jimmy Greaves, who netted four goals in the game, to England’s World Cup aspirations. It seemed certain that the Spurs ace marksman would be an integral part in any success England may achieve when the tournament got under way.

There was a sad event following the Oslo game, when Joe Mears, chairman of the Football Association and Chelsea, collapsed and died in an Oslo street. A heart attack was diagnosed. It was his second in a few months. The first came a few months earlier, when the World Cup trophy was stolen, and a ransom demand sent to the FA.

On 3 July, Ramsey declared that the squad of 22 he had taken on his mini tour of Europe would comprise his selected group for the World Cup Finals, unless any injuries occurred. The same day, England beat Denmark 2-0 in Copenhagen. To round off what had appeared to be a highly successful preamble to the main event, England then flew to Poland and won 1-0 in Chorzów. A dozen goals were netted in four games, and a solitary one conceded. It seemed that England were ready. The run of victories certainly built up expectations at home.

These were more innocent times and branding the tournament was very much an amateurish affair, compared to today’s uber-hyped operations. Even so, a mascot was created, called World Cup Willie, together with a song that, sad to say, I can broadly remember to this day. Well, at least snippets of it!

Willie was the creation of a freelance artist called Reg Hoye. He was a small lion with a Union Jack shirt, striding purposely forward with eyes narrowed apparently in determined concentration, but looking strangely myopic. Reports suggest that Hoye had considered a couple of alternatives, the first being a City Gent type, complete with bowler hat and rolled-up brolly. Also, a more ‘Northern’ flat-capped version was considered. Wisely, Hoye ditched both, wishing to avoid any ‘class-conscious’ issues. He then opted for what, looking back with the experience of fifty-odd years, would now be considered as a short-sighted jingoist. Was Hoye making a satirical joke? Probably not. I don’t think the result’s pompous, he insisted, it’s just to show that we’re not as clapped out as some people think we are.1 Well, perhaps he was. After all, this was the era that satire was born, with ground-breaking television shows such as ‘That Was the Week That Was’ and ‘The Frost Report’.

All such ponderings to one side though, looking back, it seems a little strange to be trumpeting a lion wearing a Union Jack, rather than a Cross of St George on his shirt, with Lonnie Donegan’s eponymous ditty trumpeting the ‘red, white and blue’. It was something echoed as the tournament got under way, with so many flags carried by fans being that of the United Kingdom, rather than England; a point that Kenneth Wolstenholme mentions in his commentary during the final. Hoye was paid a flat fee for his ‘Willie’ and when the figure appeared on all sorts of what were termed at the time as memorabilia and souvenirs, the FA banked enough money to replace the Jules Rimet Trophy many times over, if the need occurred. After seeing the success of the marketing, Hoye may well have felt a little unhappy.

And so, the scene was set. There was, however, one more complication to address. As well as the ‘usual suspects’ from Europe and South America, an unexpected name had claimed a place at the tournament. For North Korea, even qualifying was a strange mix of bans and withdrawals that seemed to conspire to open a path to the Finals. Originally part of a surely unnecessarily complex system involving Oceanic and African countries, FIFA’s decision to ban South Africa due to the Apartheid regime there meant there was no automatic qualifying place for an African country, and the continent’s remaining 15 aspirants all withdrew in protest. This left Australia, North Korea and South Korea to battle out qualification in a round-robin tournament in Japan.

For reasons that remain somewhat unclear, however, the venue was then switched to Cambodia and the South Koreans withdrew for political reasons. The game in Australia was still very much a minor sport at this time, and they lost both play-off games, meaning the North Koreans had qualified for the 1966 World Cup Finals by playing a mere two games rather than the elaborate route that would otherwise have been required. Ironically, for this most politically sensitive of countries, politics had leant a guiding hand. Nothing is simple in sport when politics become entwined in events, however, and if the route to qualification had been smoothed out, the journey to England was still to be negotiated.

As a callow youth at the time, I knew little of such political problems. A few years after the Cuban Missile Crisis, however, global politics were still a raw nerve. At news of the Asian country’s qualification, there was great consternation in British government circles about how the North Koreans should be received, even to the extent of whether they should be allowed to enter the country at all. Entertaining Australia would have been much less complicated had they prevailed, but that was not the case. Britain had never formally recognised North Korea or, as it styled itself, the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea and memories of the Korean War of the previous decade were still an open and painful wound for many. Records released only in the last five years or so, and now accessible through the National Archives, reveal that serious consideration was given to refusing visas to North Korean players and officials as a means of solving the problem, with bureaucrats concerned that allowing entry would cause diplomatic ructions with South Korea, not to mention the USA.

The Foreign Office was, however, aware of the potential repercussions that any refusal to grant a visa would invite. An internal FO memo written just months before the tournament took place relates that, If we do this the consequences could be very serious. Apparently FIFA has made it very plain to the FA that if any team has won its way through to the finals is denied visas, then the finals will take place elsewhere. This would be a disaster for the FA. You can imagine what the papers would make of this. We would be accused of dragging politics into sport, sabotaging British interests and so on.2 It’s perhaps interesting to note that the discussion was not overly concerned with whether it was right to grant visas or not, but merely revolved around the political fall-out that the decision could lead to. Seemingly feeling that they were backed into a corner, however, the FO relented and agreed to grant the necessary paperwork. By then, however, a further issue had raised its head.

Having the North Korean flag flying and playing the country’s national anthem would again prove problematic. Another memo written around the same time illustrates that not to do so, however, could be just as incendiary. The North Koreans will probably object very strongly if they are prevented from playing their national anthem, displaying their national flag etc., when the other fifteen countries taking part in the finals are all permitted to do so. 3 It’s a scenario that had an echo in the football tournament at the London Olympics in 2012. The Asian team were to play Colombia, but as the teams were listed on the scoreboard, the flag of South Korea was displayed next to the players’ name instead of the DPRK banner. Not unsurprisingly, the North Koreans were enraged, with their protests causing the game to be delayed by an hour.

The FA were keenly aware of the danger of losing the finals, should politics create an insoluble problem, and wrote to the government warning that, We must not risk the possibility of these Championships being taken away from this country after we have spent some four years in preparation and, of course, involved ourselves in a very considerable financial outlay. Eventually, that most British of things, a compromise, was reached. The North Korean flag could be flown alongside those of the other competing nations, but national anthems would only be played for the countries contesting the first match and the final. As the opening game was scheduled to be between England as hosts and Uruguay, and the chances of North Korea reaching the final were fairly remote, honour seemed to be satisfied.

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Nineteen Days Before The Day

So, with flags flying and anthems of the competing countries playing for the only time until the final, weeks down the round, the 1966 World Cup Finals got underway as England faced Uruguay at Wembley on 11 July in the first game of Group 1. After all of the chutzpah, anthem singing and the goal-glutted tour of Europe, to say the game was anti-climactic is giving it far more praise than it deserved.

England had the imperious Gordon Banks in goal, with a back four of George Cohen, Jackie Charlton, Bobby Moore and Ray Wilson. Alan Ball had one flank whilst John Connelly took the other. Playing in the centre of midfield were Nobby Stiles and Bobby Charlton, just behind a front two of Roger Hunt and Jimmy Greaves.

A surprisingly less-than-capacity crowd of 87,148 watched as England struggled through an uninspiring performance, unable to break down the well-drilled defence of the South Americans who were more than happy to leave the pitch with a draw. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it’s the one game of the tournament that I can hardly recall. Even while looking back to research the game, other than a late Connelly header clipping the top of the bar, it’s difficult to find much that was memorable. One man in particular who was a part of that game was fated to have a key role in deciding the whole tournament’s outcome. Running the line was Tofiq Bahramov. Often described later as the ‘Russian Linesman’, he was in fact Azerbaijani, and would revisit Wembley a few weeks later.

If the Uruguayans were happy with the result, it was much less the case for England. I remember being particularly deflated. How could England win the World Cup if that was the sum of their talents? The press across Europe seemed to concur. Newspapers in Portugal claimed that, England showed little variety of style! In Belgium, they said there was a, Flagrant lack of imagination! Austrian press said: The South Americans sometimes made the technically excellent game of the English look ridiculous! The Dutch were perhaps the most scathing, however, sneering that, All the swaggering of the English that they are the new leaders of world soccer is nonsense! They failed to combine, failed to score, and particularly failed in soccer intellect! Back in England, we didn’t see all that combined criticism; the home reaction was bad enough.

Before England had an opportunity to put things back on track, however, in the other opening game of the group, France and Mexico were to play out a 1-1 draw, meaning all four countries were level on a single point. It was a disappointing result for the French who had expected a comfortable win.

There was a wonderful piece of British ‘rules are rules’ undiplomatic repudiation of the Entente Cordiale ahead of this game. French supporters had planned to release 5,000 balloons into the air to celebrate their country entering the tournament. Po-faced officials at The Ministry of Aviation, however, declared that such an act would ‘interfere with flying’ and banned the release. A compromise was suggested whereby one balloon could be released every 15 seconds. Suffice to say that this was not quite the expression of joie de vivre that the French had wanted, and the whole plan went down like a lead balloon, as it were.

France’s hopes of qualification were to suffer a similar fate a few days later when a 2-1 reverse against Uruguay put them on the very brink of elimination. With a game to come against Mexico, it looked like the Uruguayan’s result against England on the opening day was panning out perfectly for them. The question was who would most likely qualify alongside them?

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Fourteen Days Before The Day

On July 16, England faced Mexico at Wembley. A draw might let the French back into the argument, but a victory for either side would put them in a strong position alongside Uruguay. Ramsey decided to make two changes to his team. Both his flank midfielders were changed as Alan Ball and John Connelly were dropped in favour of West Ham’s Martin Peters and Southampton’s Terry Paine.

Much as with the opening game, England seemed tentative, but at least they pressed much further and with more urgency. For all that, however, as the half-hour mark arrived and passed, England still hadn’t found the breakthrough. Then, Bobby Charlton ploughed forward from midfield, driving into the Mexican half. As the defenders closed on him, he jinked left, and then right, opening up the angle for a right-footed shot. Maybe a shot from Charlton? questioned Kenneth Wolstenholme.

From 25 yards, the Manchester United player unleashed a terrific shot that flew past Mexican ’keeper Ignacio Calderon and into the top left corner of the net. It was a magnificent strike. As Calderon lay on the floor, Charlton jumped into the air, before standing arms aloft, saluting the crowd.

Now, whether it’s true or not, I can’t really say, but even in those days I was an avid reader of all things football-related, and remember seeing a few days later that the goal had actually stopped traffic in Mexico City as the people there saw their World Cup dream dying. It certainly didn’t stop the traffic in England, but I remember feeling that, at last, our World Cup adventure was up and running.

Although it was only a one goal lead, the Mexicans appeared dejected, and it was always likely from that point onwards that England would score again. Perhaps the only surprise was that it took until a dozen minutes from the end for it to happen. Nobby Stiles had crossed for Charlton to head narrowly wide, but a goal was on the way. Jimmy Greaves fired in a shot from the left that Calderon could only parry and Roger Hunt was there to tap the loose ball home. The win was secured, and barring a major upset against France in the last group game, the quarter-finals were beckoning.

It was the sort of result that the country needed to replenish a belief in the team doing well. Elements of the press were less than ecstatic, with many concentrating on the paucity of the opposition, rather than England’s merits. Personally, I wasn’t worried too much about that; Charlton’s goal especially had lit the blue touch paper and now all things were moving in the right direction.

A few days later, things looked even better as Uruguay failed to score against Mexico, the game ending in a stalemate. Mexico had replaced Calderon with the veteran goalkeeper Antonio Carbajal. The 38-year-old became the first player to appear in five World Cup Final tournaments, a feat only matched since by Lothar Matthäus. In his first match, Carbajal had conceded four goals against Brazil in the opening game of the 1950 tournament in the Maracana, with concrete and paint drying around him in the unfinished stadium. In this, his final game for his country, he kept a clean sheet and at the final whistle, kissed both goalposts in celebration.

If Carbajal was happy, so was all of England. The draw meant that Uruguay had four points from their completed programme—a win being worth two points in those days—whilst Mexico had two, also having completed their schedule. England with three points were to play the French in their final qualifying group, who had a solitary point. A win therefore would not only mean England qualified, it would make them group winners, meaning they would face a group runner-up in the quarter finals.

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Ten Days Before The Day

For the game, Ramsey again shuffled his wide midfielders. Terry Paine was discarded, and Liverpool’s Ian Callaghan came in for his first appearance in the tournament. One concern for the home nation would have been that although they scored twice against Mexico, Jimmy Greaves, their most prolific marksman, was yet to find the net. Ramsey persisted with the White Hart Lane striker though. Perhaps the manager considered that a demoralised France may offer the ideal opportunity to get Greaves back on the goal trail.

It may be that Greaves felt the same, and the Spurs front man certainly played with a determination to score. One run in the first half took him from the halfway line to the edge of the French penalty area, but his shot was tame and Marcel Aubour collected easily. France appeared though to have summoned up new found energy and a header from Robert Herbin nearly gave them the lead, but it passed just wide of the upright as Banks looked on.

England pressed and a sharply taken free kick by Moore, charging forward from the back, caught Aubour unawares, but the ball flew narrowly over. Then, Greaves scored. An errant shot from Stiles only squirmed out wide to find Callaghan, who crossed to the far post. Peters arrived to head the ball back across goal and Greaves netted from all of a yard out. The joy was short-lived, however, with Greaves clearly offside. The crowd booed, and Greaves protested; all to no avail. It wasn’t to be for the frustrated striker, but worse was to follow.

Greaves still powered on. Receiving a ball from Charlton on the edge of the French penalty area, he hit a shot just beyond the far post. It was mainly England pressing as the half wore on. Bobby Charlton cut in from the right and tried to reprise his Mexico strike, but Aubour saw it safely over the bar. From the resulting corner, the ball was crossed in to the far post. Jackie Charlton up from the back headed against the near post, but the ball ran out, behind Aubour towards the other post where Hunt was waiting to pounce. This time, Gallic appeals for offside were only met with shrugs from the referee. It was the Liverpool striker’s second goal of the tournament and neither had been from more than a couple of yards out. The goal had come just before the break, but there was still time inside the first 45 minutes for Greaves to again break from the left, drive forward and shoot narrowly beyond the far post.

After the break, France spasmodically threatened, but England still carried more menace. Bobby Charlton had the ball in the net again, but this time the offside claims were validated, and the strike was ruled out. Entering the final 20 minutes, it seemed a single goal may have to suffice. Then, Callaghan crossed in from the left, and Hunt arrived to head into the corner. Aubour clutched at the ball but couldn’t keep it out. It was 2-0 and game over. Banks was forced to dive to his left to keep out a shot late on, but the French were a spent force by then.

All was not quite rosy in England’s garden though. Greaves had a late chance to score, but again failed to beat the ’keeper. It was later revealed that he had suffered a gash to his shin, requiring 14 stitches. He had failed to score in any of the group games and the injury now meant he would miss the quarter-final. Nobby Stiles had also been booked for ‘rough play’ and FIFA’s disciplinary committee quaintly informed the FA that if such occurrences were repeated, sanctions would follow. The FA then asked Ramsey to drop Stiles. Ramsey famously told the FA where they could go, stating he would resign if they forced the issue. With uncommon wisdom, they relented.

With the group won, England would play the runners-up in Group 2. Both West Germany and Argentina had beaten Spain and Switzerland, before drawing 0-0 in their final group game. Courtesy of their 5-0 victory over the Swiss, however, West Germany headed the group, meaning they would face Uruguay, whilst England would be paired with Argentina in the last eight. After being stifled by Uruguay, facing up to more South American opposition was hardly an enticing prospect, and their game against West Germany offered a portent of what was to come.

When the South Americans played West Germany, there was more than a clash of styles. Argentine defender Rafael Albrecht was dismissed for a ‘studs up’ challenge on Wolfgang Weber that struck him in an area north of the thigh, but south of the stomach. Perhaps seeking to influence the referee, Albrecht himself limped away from the challenge, as if he had been the injured party. It cut little ice.

Afterwards, his manager, Juan Lorenzo, sought to minimise any controversy. A really dirty player would have done it with his foot, he pleaded in mitigation. Perhaps something was lost in translation, but it hardly helped matters, especially since Albrecht had already escaped expulsion when he rugby-tackled Helmut Haller.

Robust defending had also been the order of the day in Group 3. Brazil arrived as World Champions and, placed into a group with Portugal, Hungary and Bulgaria, would surely have expected to progress. Perhaps the other three teams had a similar expectation, and at least two of them chose a brutal form of tactics to try to bring the Samba Boys down to a more sedate level of play.

Whilst it’s often fashionable to pine for olden times, at this stage of the game’s development, tackles—or as some would term them ‘assaults’—were deemed to be much more acceptable than would be the case today. Brazil were simply kicked out of the tournament as a series of opposition players almost lined up to take a dig at them, paying particular attention to star player, Pelé.

Despite taking a fearful physical battering from Bulgaria, Brazil scratched out a 2-0 victory. Hungary apparently decided that the heirs of Ferenc Puskás and Hidegkuti could not countenance such candour, at least not to the same extent anyway. Perhaps fortuitously gaining from their Balkan neighbours’ rough-house treatment of Pelé, Hungary did not have to face the greatest player in the world at the time, as he missed the game through injury. Refusing to foreswear their laudable heritage and putting the boot in, instead they matched up skill for skill and in a largely thrilling encounter against the depleted Brazilians, won out 3-1 with goals from Bene, Farkas and Mészöly, against a single reply from Tostao.

Despite having beaten the elegant Hungarians previously, for their final game, Portugal chose to deploy the Bulgarian tactics, taking up the cudgels in Brazil’s next game as Pelé returned to the fray, or perhaps more accurately affray, and secured a 3-1 win. Pelé finally succumbed to the heavy-handed treatment and left the field, sad-faced and wrapped in a blanket. It offered about as much protection as the referee had given him on the pitch. The tournament was the poorer for the loss of Brazil and the success of the hatchet tactics deployed to eliminate them. Pelé, as disgusted as he was physically hurt by the treatment and lack of protection he’d received, vowed never to compete in a World Cup again. He was persuaded to relent for the 1970 event in Mexico, but more of that later.

Group 4 contained Italy, Chile, the Soviet Union and the controversial North Koreans, whose participation had caused such consternation. The Azzurri were fancied to qualify, and there was certainly a run of form to substantiate such a stance. Heading to the finals, 6-1 victories over both Poland and Bulgaria, came along with a 3-0 win against Scotland and Argentina and a 5-0 win over Mexico. When packing their bags to travel to England, however, it appeared someone had forgotten to include the box marked ‘Form’, and the Italians performed poorly. A scrappy 2-0 victory over Chile merely hid the reality. A 1-0 defeat against the Soviet Union should have raised concerns, but with their final game against the group’s perceived makeweights, qualification still looked relatively straightforward. Beat North Korea, and progress was assured.

The Koreans’ opening group game had taken place at Ayresome Park on 12th July against the Soviet Union. The Europeans were much stronger physically and the Asians struggled to compete. They steamrollered the slighter built Koreans, the average height of the squad a mere five-and-a-half feet, to a 3-0 defeat. The Korean adventure seemed destined for an early end.

In the second game, they played Chile and found the South American approach, less muscular and based more on technique, much more to their taste. The Chileans scored first as Marcos netted a penalty halfway through the first period, but with the game drawing to a close, Pak Seung-zin scored an unlikely equaliser. The game ended 1-1. By now, the fans had somewhat reappraised any initial assessment of the Koreans’ ability, as the underdogs took on the role of local favourites.

BBC commentator Frank Bough remarked that the fans don’t even cheer this loud for Middlesbrough! With Italy also losing out to the Soviet Union, but defeating the hapless Chileans, a victory for the North Koreans in their final game against Italy would see them qualify for the quarter-finals, instead of the fancied Azzurri. As they had only netted a single goal, a draw would see the double world champions through, but North Korea amazingly had a chance. All they had to do was defeat the Italians.

This was, however, an Italy squad on a mission. After disgracing themselves in the so-called ‘Battle of Santiago’ in Chile in the tournament four years previously, when a despicable display of brutality shamed the game, there was much rebuilding to do if the nation was to regain pride in its football team. In the previous three years, the Lombardian clubs of AC Milan and Internazionale had begun the process by winning the European Cup on consecutive occasions, and the players that formed the Italian heart of these clubs now infused Edmondo Fabbri’s Azzurri with a belief and passion to succeed at international level. This was the task facing the Chollima-inspired team. It would take a gigantic leap of that fabled winged horse to get North Korea through. Enter Pak Doo-ik.

It’s easy to get lost in a legend that the upstart North Koreans simply outplayed Italy. There is some measure of truth in that, but there are also mitigating circumstances. The first sign that all was not going well for the blue-shirted Italians came early on when captain and Bologna legend, Giacomo Bulgarelli, already struggling with a knee injury, aggravated the problem whilst attempting to tackle Pak Seung-zin. At this time, no substitutes were permitted. For the remainder of the game, the Italians were a man short.

Just before the break, came the fateful moment; a clearance from the Italians was headed back into the box and running onto the ball, Pak Doo-ik let the ball pass in front of him before hitting it low across Enrico Albertosi and into the net. The North Koreans take the lead five minutes before the break, screamed the BBC commentator. What a sensation! You can say that again—and he did. The Fiorentina stopper could perhaps have done better, but it was a moment of fate, and Italy were in trouble. The Chollima had taken flight. Although the game progressed with the Azzurri having a number of half-decent chances to level the scores—two in particular were squandered by Bulgarelli’s Bologna team-mate Marino Perani—the North Koreans stood firm and as the final whistle went, they had qualified, with the Italians facing a return home to shame and ridicule.

Strange rumours began to circulate, suggesting that the decline in Italy’s fortunes may have been related to FIFA’s policy on drug-testing, but that may just have been fanciful theorising as a way to explain away such a disastrous performance. When the team landed back in Italy they were greeted by pelters from the press and a pelting of over-ripe tomatoes by the disgruntled tifosi, who had been led to expect so much more. At least the latter would provide an accompaniment for some pasta!

So, there it was. Alongside the host country, the last eight in the 1966 World Cup Finals comprised the predictable Argentina, West Germany and Uruguay, the likely Hungary, Portugal and Soviet Union, plus the highly improbable North Korea. All of the games would be played on 23 July and were matched up:

West Germany v Uruguay

Portugal v North Korea

Soviet Union v Hungary

England v Argentina

***

Seven Days Before The Day

The injury sustained by the luckless, and goalless, Jimmy Greaves in the game against the French meant that he was a major doubt for the quarter-final clash against the Argentines, and a game that would become infamous for the perceived cynical play of the South Americans. With no room for cover—no substitutes were allowed in those days—Ramsey understandably chose to leave the Spurs striker out. He was to be replaced by Geoff Hurst in a move that would become Ramsey’s established template to the end of the tournament. Given the outcome, many would see it as a serendipitous moment for player, manager and country, but for Greaves it was a devastating blow. There’s a famous picture of the England bench of players and officials celebrating at the end of the final. Standing to one side is a dejected, suited figure. Jimmy Greaves must have been thinking what could have been.

George Cohen was close to Greaves. Jimmy is my oldest friend in professional football, he said in January 2015 to Jeremy Wilson, Deputy Football Correspondent of The Daily Telegraph. I have never ever mentioned it to Jimmy. All these years have gone past. I couldn’t bring myself to ask him about it. He was one of the greatest names in our game at the time. But Geoff’s performances proved that what we needed was what we got. We got a three-goal hero in the World Cup final. I don’t think we have ever stopped talking about it.

Hurst came in to partner Roger Hunt, and Ramsey settled on a team that would see England through to the end of the tournament. Behind them, Banks was in goal, with George Cohen, Jackie Charlton, Bobby Moore and Ray Wilson providing the back line. The energetic Alan Ball patrolled the right flank with Nobby Stiles and Bobby Charlton inside and Martin Peters on the left. Charlton played just behind the front two and Stiles provided the solidity. Significantly, the game was officiated by Europeans—something that the South Americans would complain long and hard about later—as Rudolf Kreitlin of West Germany took charge with Swiss and Hungarian linesmen.

England started the game positively, and Bobby Charlton struck the post after a mere three minutes. Some may say it was perhaps fortuitous, as the ball skidded in low directly from a corner. Had he spotted a gap on the near post with no Argentina defender guarding it? Perhaps he had. It certainly looked like a deliberately low-driven ball.

England’s bright start faded, however, and Argentine captain Antonio Rattin became an increasingly influential element in the game as he took control of the midfield. Whilst Rattin was a skilful and experienced player, he was not averse to using the more agricultural options available when he saw the need.

As the South Americans established control of the game, England fans became restless. Not only were their favourites being bested, the measured and patient build-up that formed Argentina’s play choked off any helter-skelter excitement that had been anticipated. If this had been the away leg of a European club contest, it could almost be an exemplary lesson in how to take the crowd out of the game. Frustration was mixed with slow hand clapping with English players forlornly chasing the ball, as Argentina jealously protected possession. Then the dark side of Rattin’s temperament came to the surface. There had been a fairly constant stream of niggling fouls that was latterly portrayed as being very much part of the Argentine make-up, although statistics of the game revealed that England had in fact conceded more free-kicks than their opponents. Perception often trumps reality though.

Just past the half hour, the South Americans’ captain lunged into an unnecessarily robust challenge on Bobby Charlton and was booked by Kreitlin. Then, three minutes later, he upended Hurst. The referee awarded the free-kick. Rattin snapped, perhaps convincing himself that back home the offence would never have been acknowledged.

Towering over the diminutive Kreitlin, Rattin then delivered a couple of minutes of argument in Spanish that the German referee may not have understood. Later, Rattin would insist that all he was asking for was an interpreter to explain the situation; something the Argentines had apparently been promised would be available for them. Kreitlin certainly gave no indication of being swayed by Rattin’s persuasive manner however. Eventually, he responded in the universally understood manner of pointing the still arguing Rattin to the tunnel. Perhaps feigning that he didn’t understand, the South American stood there, still arguing, now joined by a coterie of his teammates, each remonstrating with the official. Kreitlin was unmoved, maintaining his gesture of pointing off the field, and even waving with his other arm in case there had been any slight doubt. Eventually Rattin was removed, and the game could recommence. It was the second time an Argentine player had been dismissed in the competition. The whole episode would leave a nasty taste in the mouth of the Argentines and would feed a resentment that there had been some kind of European ‘stitch-up’ to see the South American teams out of the competition.

Half-time came and went, and despite now being a man light, Argentina still looked to have some measure of control. Their studied possession was in contrast with England’s thud and blunder rapid, or perhaps more accurately, rabid charge towards goal each time they gained the ball. Both styles were equally ineffective in securing a goal, however, and entering the last fifteen minutes, the scoresheet remained blank. With just a dozen minutes left, Peters had the ball out on the left. Noticing a run from his West Ham United team-mate, Hurst, he floated a cross into the space around the six-yard box. Hurst’s arrival was perfectly timed and, using the pace on Peters’ cross, the forward flicked the ball deftly to his right, deceiving Antonio Roma in goal, and into the net.

Turning to celebrate as Peters ran forward in joy, Hurst held both arms aloft standing in front of a bank of photographers, and was patted on the back in a frightfully English way by one of the snappers. I’m not sure if he said ‘Well done, old chap’, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had. Away from the goalmouth, a young supporter ran onto the pitch to celebrate, only to be cuffed around the head by Oscar Más; the striker perhaps betraying his frustration.

It was the killer moment in the game and as the Argentines appeared to reconcile themselves to defeat, time ran out, and England had reached the final four. Such was the furore after the game that debates between the two camps became quite heated and FIFA had to move in to placate matters.

There was even a spill-over into other sports. Argentine WBA World Champion, Horacio Accavallo, had been in negotiations with Scotland’s Walter McGowan, the WBC champion regarding a unification fight in the Scot’s homeland. Following the game, however, Accavallo called a halt to talks. What England have done to the game of football does not bear a name, he raged. If he wants to fight me, he will have to come here where there are no guarantees! Perhaps it was a show of solidarity with his national football team, but the boxer seemed unaware that McGowan was Scottish, rather than English, and also of the sporting rivalry that defined the two countries either side of Hadrian’s Wall.

In the other quarter-finals, West Germany overwhelmed Uruguay, with Franz Beckenbauer putting on a virtuoso performance in a 4-0 victory. Somewhat less spectacularly, the Soviet Union defeated Hungary 2-1. The most dramatic game, however, came when North Korea faced Portugal at Goodison Park.

Following their exploits against Chile and especially Italy, North Korea had acquired what would probably now be called ‘cult’ status in the north-east where they played their group games. I’ve seen reports that suggest some 5,000 fans from Teeside followed the North Koreans to Liverpool to support their new heroes. David Coleman commentated on the game for the BBC and whilst most people were expecting, perhaps even hoping for, a spirited show from the North Koreans, anything other than a Portuguese victory was surely unthinkable. If the Italians had been taken by surprise and hampered by being a man light, Eusébio et al were unlikely to fall into the same trap.

How many of the crowd were from Middlesbrough, or local Merseysiders is unclear, but Coleman commented that the North Koreans, now wearing all-white, with Portugal in their traditional blood-red shirts, were receiving massive support from the crowd. The game was less than a minute old when Pak Seung-zin hit a shot from outside the area that flew past the Belenenses ‘keeper José Pereira and into the top left-hand corner of the net to give the North Koreans the lead. It was a surprise to all, not least to Coleman. What a shock! he bellowed. The Portuguese quickly responded and in the Korean goal, Lee Chang-Myung was stretched on a couple of occasions to preserve the lead.

As the half wore on, the Koreans seemed to be slipping away as the Portuguese recovered their composure. In the 22nd minute, a cross from the right eluded Pereira, and when Seung-Kook Yang played the ball back to the far post Dong-Woon Lee was there to put it into an empty net and amazingly the North Koreans were two up. The crowd were lapping up the excitement, and began chanting ‘easy, easy.’ Coleman declared that the Portuguese were in the most desperate trouble. It would get worse before it got better.

We want three, shouted the crowd as the eager North Koreans continued to pour forward. Pak Doo-ik hit a shot from outside of the area that was blocked by a defender, but it fell invitingly to Seung-Kook Yang. He must score. He must score, shouted Coleman. He did. Well this is ridiculous, concluded the gobsmacked Coleman. It was. A mere 24 minutes had elapsed, and North Korea led by three goals.

Where Italy had wilted, however, Portugal appeared to be made of sterner stuff. If ever a team had peaked too early, this was probably the occasion. Eusébio took over the game and showed just why he was one of the best players of this era. The Mozambique-born striker dragged Portugal back into the game and then put them into the lead with four goals, including two penalties, in just over a half-hour. José Augusto added a fifth at the end. Portugal went through and North Korea went home. The unfancied team whose participation had caused so much diplomatic unrest had fully justified their inclusion and created a couple of unforgettable moments in the annals of Word Cup history. Summing up the game in typical BBC parlance of the day, Coleman remarked that they had, played their hearts out. In the semi-finals, England would face Eusébio’s Portugal and West Germany would line up against the Soviet Union in an all-European last four. Perhaps there was something in the South American theory of an unscrupulous European plan after all.

***

Four Days Before The Day

On 26 July, England took the field to face Portugal for the right to play in the World Cup Final. After his goal against Argentina, there seemed little prospect of Hurst being dropped for a fit-again Jimmy Greaves. Although probably unthinkable before the tournament had got under way, it seemed a sensible decision in the light of events to date. After all, Greaves had played three games without a goal, whilst Hurst had netted the winner in his only outing. The team that had battled through against Argentina was to begin against Portugal.

After wearing an all-white ensemble against Argentina, apparently to avoid clashes with the South Americans’ black shorts, England reverted to their traditional colours for this game. Another change was the attitude of both teams. Portugal had eschewed the tactics deployed against Pelé and Brazil, and in its stead put on the sort of display that kept the game alive as a spectacle right until the final whistle.

The early parts of the game had seen England looking to exploit space behind Portugal’s back line with a series of long balls for Hurst and Hunt to chase. As the half-hour mark was reached, the tactic had brought no tangible reward. The next one would be more successful. Chasing through as the ball dropped over the head of Alexandre Baptista, Hunt raced through on goalkeeper José Pereira, chased by José Carlos.

The goalkeeper bravely slid out to meet the challenge before the striker could get to the ball. As he did so, the ball cannoned off his legs and out towards the edge of the penalty area. Closing in was Bobby Charlton, and spotting a narrow path between defenders and the goalkeeper decided, as he afterwards put it, to trust the Wembley pitch and stroked the ball along the ground and into the net. England were ahead.

As they had shown against North Korea though, this Portugal team was made of stern stuff and they retained a threat of their own. Eusébio was always a danger, but in the tall José Torres and the elegant Mário Coluna, they also had the strike-power and finesse to open up defences. Before the break, a ball lofted into the England penalty area was nodded down by Torres towards José Augusto on the left. The Benfica midfielder crossed the ball back in to where Jackie Charlton struggled to get good clearance on his header.

The ball dropped invitingly towards Portugal’s ace marksman, and striking it with the outside of his right foot, Eusébio drove it towards the far corner of Banks’ goal. The England ’keeper was able to scoop it away for a corner, but it illustrated that, unlike the game against Argentina, a single strike was unlikely to settle this encounter. Another goal would surely be required if England were to progress. As the fates would have it though, it wouldn’t come until well into the second period.

There were just over ten minutes left when George Cohen launched a searching ball once more behind the