'You did it, Alf!'
The final, then, would be between West Germany and England. The Germans had
never yet beaten an England team and they had been trying one way or another
since 1901, when their rudimentary national team was beaten 12-0 by an
all-England amateur side at Tottenham and 10-0 by the professionals in
Manchester. Under Helmut Schoen, it was a more fluent, technical side than
those which had played under Sepp Herberger. Schoen, who had been his
assistant manager, was at last able to express his own ideas through the
team, though to those who somewhat caustically implied that he was still
under Herberger's spell, he would politely reply that, of course, they were
sometimes in contact.
Schoen, however, was prepared to go so far; and no further. That is to say, he
resisted the ambitions of the young Franz Beckenbauer, a precocious
strategist, who was already playing as an attacking libero, or sweeper, for
his club Bayern Munich, thus initiating the polymath style which would come
to be known as Total Football. Beckenbauer had conceived the idea, he said,
when watching the big Italian international left back Giacinto Fachetti -
who like most of his Italy team had such a disappointing World Cup - surging
into attack from deep positions. If a full back could do it, reasoned
Beckenbauer, then why not a liberor?
Ironically enough, Fabbri had omitted from his Italian squad the doyen of
Italian sweepers, Armando Picchi, who interpreted the role purely in terms
of defence, but practised it resiliently. So Picchi attended the World Cup
only as a spectator which was how, to my astonishment, that I found myself
one Sunday morning playing side by side with him - wearing his underpants! -
in a pick-up game in Battersea Park. One in which, quite typically, he
played with a commitment suggesting we were indeed involved in the World Cup
itself.
As for England, the main question was whether Jimmy Greaves would play.
Certainly he was quite fit again. And if he were to play, presumably he
could scarcely hope to displace Geoff Hurst, whose contribution had been
invaluable in the previous two games. Hurst or Hunt, then, one assumed; but
for Ramsey, if not for the critics and supporters at large, Hunt was
important.
Truth to tell, Hunt in the World Cup final was guilty of two howling mistakes,
which could well have cost England the game. Three minutes from half time,
with the score at 1-1, Ray Wilson, with a typically fast and incisive
overlap, finished with a searching cross. Hurst leaped above the German
defence, flicking the ball accurately to Hunt, on his left. But the best, or
worst, that Hunt could do was to strike an inadequate shot with his weaker
left foot, saved by the German keeper Hans Tilkowski, perhaps more by luck
than judgement, when he threw up his arms in seeming hope.
On eighty-six minutes, with England 2-1 ahead and the Germans desperately in
search of parity, Hunt blundered again. This time, he was favoured by a
glorious defence-shredding pass by an inspired Alan Ball. He had both Hurst
and Bobby Charlton to his right, with only the big German defender Willi
Schulz in his way. All he had to do was to draw Schulz and give the ball
right, to one or other of his team mates. Instead, his pass to Charlton was
too soon and too square. Charlton sliced wildly at the ball in his evident
surprise, and the vital chance had gone. The Germans thus went on to
equalise.
Hard indeed to forget the Friday morning press conference at Roehampton before
that final and Alf's strangulated confirmation that England would win. Jimmy
Greaves had the weight of the world, let alone the World Cup, on his
shoulders, wondering whether he'd be picked. Yet he was still able to say to
me with a smile, 'We must have another game next season, Brian!' Meaning of
all things a game in Essex between his Tennis All Stars of Abridge against
my little Sunday side, Chelsea Casuals, games in which Jimmy played
combatively in goal. But that weekend there would be no game for Jimmy,
though the sad descent into alcoholism was apparently precipitated not by
this massive disappointment, but by his dejection when, transferred from
Spurs to West Ham, he found there a Ron Greenwood disillusioned with
football and no longer the same, innovative figure. This grew all too clear
when Greenwood was elevated to the England role.
It might well be said that Helmut Schoen gave the game away when he detailed
Franz Beckenbauer to man-mark Bobby Charlton. In so doing, he may well have
largely subdued Charlton, but only at the enormous cost of restricting
Beckenbauer to such a negative role, when up till that point he had been the
fluent, adventurous inspiration of the German midfield. It was widely
believed that the two players cancelled each other out, but if they did, it
was at the expense of West Germany's expense, rather than England's.
It was a tribute to England's morale that they should fight back after such a
potentially traumatising opening goal. After thirteen minutes the usually so
reliable Ray Wilson headed Siggi Held's left-wing cross aberrantly straight
to the feet of Helmut Haller, and into the net it went.
Another of those West Ham combinations got England back into the game; a
quickly taken, perfectly judged free kick by Bobby Moore from the left; a
perfectly judged run and header by Geoff Hurst. Tilkowski and his team mates
berated one another.
Ramsey's instructions to Ball had been to draw the German left back Karl-Heinz
Schnellinger constantly into the middle, which for some time he did, with
success; only in the latter stages of the game to overwhelm 'Schnelli', out
on the right flank, with all the pace and elusiveness of the true winger.
Playing their own version of catenaccio which had availed the Italians so
little, with Willi Schulz as the uncompromising sweeper, and Wolfgang Weber,
due to score that breathless equaliser, at centre back, the Germans were by
no means committed merely to defence. They were flexible and menacing, with
Haller supporting the drive of Held on the left, and the irrepressible Uwe
Seeler drifting to the right. Gordon Banks had to make a double save from
Wolfgang Overath, the chief playmaker, and the big left winger, Lothar
Emmerich.
The second half was largely indifferent, though the gap on England's left
flank, save when Wilson advanced to fill it, was notable. After
seventy-eight minutes, however, England went ahead with a somewhat
fortuitous goal, Peters, notionally committed to that wing, popped up in the
box to score after Weber had blocked Hurst's shot. That seemed to be that;
but controversially it wasn't.
With barely a minute left came West Germany's disputable equaliser.
Disputable, because the free kick which produced it was probably a foul by
Held, backing in on Jack Charlton, rather than against him. Emmerich,
hesitant till then, now had the chance to strike the crucial free kick from
the left of the box, into the goalmouth. There, it hit Schnellinger in the
back, was driven across goal again by Held, and struck home on the far post
by Weber.
As his weary, dejected players sprawled on the turf, awaiting extra time,
Ramsey strode magisterially on to the field to tell them they had won the
World Cup once; now they must win it again. With a derisive gesture at the
equally recumbent Germans, he declared, 'Look at them! They're finished.'
It would be the apotheosis now of Alan Ball. Well might Ramsey tell him
afterwards that he would never play a better game for England. Within ninety
seconds, Ball was racing down the wing, giving the lie to any notion of
wingless wonders, ending with a shot which Tilkowski, seemingly troubled
throughout by the shoulder he had hurt playing in the semi-final versus the
Soviet Union, turned over the bar. Shoulder or no shoulder, Tilkowski
proceeded next to turn a searing drive by Bobby Charlton for a corner.
A hundred minutes had been played when a searching pass to the right by Stiles
reached Ball. 'Oh, no!' Ball told himself. 'I can't get that one! I'm
finished.' He had, he later declared, 'already died twice'. Yet somehow he
found the strength, pace and energy to get the ball indeed, and leave
Schnellinger panting in the rear. Geoff Hurst met his cross on the near post
with a searinging right-footed shot. After which - eternal controversy.
That the shot beat Tilkowski all ends up was palpable. That it struck the
underside of the bar was indisputable. Whether or not it then crossed the
goal line has been disputed to this day. Roger Hunt, turning away in triumph
without bothering to make sure of the goal, seemed quite convinced. Herr
Gottfreid Dienst, the Swiss referee, wasn't sure. He turned to his
Azerbaijan linesman Tofik Bakhramov, to his right, a man with the flowing
grey hair of a concert violinist; Bakhramov pointed his flag emphatically
towards the centre. England 3 West Germany 2.
With the Germans desperately in quest of an equaliser, leaving gaps galore, a
West Ham partnership turned the trick again. Moore's long ball out of
defence, capping his immaculate display, and there was Hurst, blowing out
his cheeks, to crash the ball left footed past Tilkowski. Was he trying to
score, or simply blasting the ball away, willy nilly, as the seconds ebbed?
No matter. It was a spectacular goal, England's fourth, and the first hat
trick ever recorded in a World Cup final.
So Ramsey had won the World Cup, as he said he would, England's best coming
last, or in the last two games. Had he and they been lucky? Lucky to play
every game at Wembley? Perhaps, but there was nothing illicit about it. And
unlucky surely to concede that late equaliser, in such dubious and
potentially disheartening circumstances. That the team was able to pick
itself up, dust itself off and start all over again was surely a tribute to
his influence and inspiration.
© Brian Glanville 2007 Extracted from England Managers, the
Toughest Job in Football, by Brian Glanville, published by Headline at
£18.99. It is available for £17.09 including postage from The Times
BooksFirst on 0870 165 8585 or buy the book here.
