Banksy (24 page)

So the FA looked to their second-choice candidate, Alf Ramsey. In his time as a right back for England, Alf had seen at first hand the effects of team selection by committee. He was adamant that no official would wield such influence again and became the first England manager to have sole responsibility for team affairs.

For sixteen years Walter Winterbottom had diplomatically negotiated, rather than argued, with the selection committee over who should be included in the England team. During one such meeting five nominees were put forward for the position of goalkeeper. The list was reduced by the voting process until only two names remained, whereby one goalkeeper would be chosen by means of a simple majority vote. When Walter asked how many of the committee had actually seen the two remaining goalkeepers in action he was astonished to discover that the answer was none.

Prior to Alf Ramsey’s appointment, selection for the England team was not based purely on ability and form. Much to Walter’s frustration, quite often a player was awarded a cap in recognition of his services to the game or, as Walter once said, ‘because
the committee thought him a decent and deserving chap’. For instance, in 1950 Arsenal’s Leslie Compton was selected to play against Wales because, as one of the selection committee said, ‘He’s a decent fellow, so let’s give him a chance.’

Walter was only too aware that the system needed to be changed. He used the Football League representative games as a means of honouring ‘the decent chaps’ so that he could press for the inclusion in the England team of players who deserved a cap on merit and form.

As the World Cup grew in status and importance in the fifties, Walter wanted to introduce a policy of developing a young England team that would play and mature together and peak within a four-year cycle. In 1959 he persuaded the England selection committee to pick a batch of young hopefuls for a game against Sweden at Wembley. Middlesbrough’s Brian Clough and Eddie Holliday, Tony Allen of Stoke City, Trevor Smith of Birmingham City and John Connelly of Burnley were added to a team that also included the youthful Jimmy Greaves and Bobby Charlton. Sweden won 3–2. England had lost only once before on home soil against foreign opposition, the first having been that watershed defeat at the hands of Hungary in 1953. Walter found himself back at square one as the selection committee objected to his policy of introducing youth and reverted to the old regime of panel picking.

When Alf Ramsey succeeded him, all was to change. The Ipswich Town directors had never interfered in the selection of the Ipswich team. Alf had sole control of team affairs at Portman Road, and he knew that if he was to make a success of his new role as manager of the national team, the dinosaur that was the selection committee would have to go. The FA bowed to the inevitable and Alf took the job.

I was happy to be named the reserve goalkeeper when Alf selected the squad for his first game in charge, a European Nations Cup match against France. The Nations Cup was the forerunner of the European Championship and in 1962–63 took the form
of two-legged knock-out ties ratherg than group games. Under Winterbottom England had drawn 1–1 against France at Hills-borough and when the return leg was played in Paris in February 1963, we still had high hopes of progressing past the first round of the tournament.

Alf introduced only one new cap for the game in Paris. Ron Henry of Spurs came in at left back and I once again found myself as second choice to Ron Springett of Sheffield Wednesday. The game turned out to be a nightmare for England, for Alf and for Ron Springett. France won by five goals to two to send England tumbling out of the tournament at the first time of asking and give Alf Ramsey much food for thought. At least he now had some idea of the magnitude of the task ahead of him.

Alf gave debuts to three players in England’s next game, at Wembley against the ‘auld enemy’, Scotland. To my considerable delight I was one of them along with the Liverpool pair Gerry Byrne and Jimmy Melia. It is difficult to imagine the current England manager giving debuts to three players in a game widely considered to be of crucial importance, but Alf did.

The Scotland game was considered the most important match in England’s international calendar, of more significance than the European Nations Cup and even, in some quarters, a World Cup qualifying match.

There was a time when every international match, irrespective of the opposition, had real importance and kudos. Bolton’s Nat Lofthouse achieved legendary status in English football for his sublime performance against Austria in 1952. Nat’s courage in that game earned him the nickname of the ‘Lion of Vienna’. It is difficult to imagine a contemporary England player enjoying the pinnacle of his international career and attaining legendary status by virtue of his performance in a friendly international. It just doesn’t happen these days.

Managers and coaches use friendly internationals purely for experimentation. The plethora of substitutions deny such games fluidity and continuity and consequently they are not the
spectacle they once were. This, and the growing tendency of the media to assign importance only to European Championship and World Cup qualifying games, has served to devalue international friendly matches and I think football is a little poorer for that.

To be picked for England, Scotland, Wales or Northern Ireland was considered the pinnacle of a playing career. Players would give anything to represent their country. Now you have players retiring from international football, often citing ‘the growing demands’ of the club competitions as their reason. While ever mindful that the pace of football today is much quicker than in the seventies, I would point out that, in 1971–72 when I was a Stoke City player, Stoke played a total of 71 matches that season: 42 League matches, 12 League Cup, 9 FA Cup and 4 each in the Anglo-Scottish Cup and the Anglo-Italian Tournament. Though I didn’t play in every game, I played in the vast majority and also managed six games for England. The Stoke City full back, Jackie Marsh, played sixty-nine games for the club that season. As Jackie used to say, ‘I’d rather be playing matches. It’s much more enjoyable than training!’

The England–Scotland game was not a friendly, but a fixture in the now defunct annual Home International Championship, which also involved Northern Ireland and Wales. Football was rarely seen on television in those days, and the Home Internationals afforded people in Cardiff, Belfast and Glasgow a rare opportunity to see the top players in action. These games were fuelled by strong patriotism and tradition as exemplified by the tunes the military bands played before the games: ‘Scotland The Brave’, ‘The British Grenadiers’, ‘Scottish Soldier’, ‘Plymouth Hoe’, ‘Land of My Fathers’ and ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ set the tone for an occasion of national pride and identity.

The match was the first to be played at Wembley since it had been redeveloped, over £500,000 having been spent on a new roof that swept around the stadium. Whether this new roof rebounded the noise of the fans back into the stadium I don’t
know, but as the two teams emerged from the tunnel I was taken aback by a deafening noise which was so intimidating it almost brought on palpitations. Wembley was filled to its capacity, and most of the 100,000 crowd seemed to be roaring for Scotland.

As we walked out Jimmy Greaves turned to me. ‘I knew they’d rebuilt this place,’ said Jimmy, ‘but I didn’t know they’d shifted it up to bloody Glasgow!’

I was still trying to block out the cacophony of noise and forget my early nerves when there was a horrifying collision between Scottish skipper Eric Caldow and Bobby Smith, England’s centre forward. Caldow was carried off with a triple fracture of the leg while Smith hobbled through the rest of the afternoon with what later turned out to be serious ankle and knee ligament damage. In that era before substitutes and the sophisticated medical expertise of today, trainers would gamble with an injured player’s ability to struggle on.

After that I recovered my concentration and all seemed to be going well for me until our right back, Jimmy Armfield, uncharacteristically decided to pass the ball across our back line. Heaven knows what Jimmy thought he was doing. Scotland’s left half, Rangers’ Jim Baxter, thought it was Christmas. Latching on to the gift we had presented him with, he bore down on my goal.

I raced off my line to cut down Baxter’s vision of my goal, but he swayed like a bird on a twig. I put all my weight on my left foot and Jim rolled the ball to my right and into the net. Debutant I may have been, but I let the more experienced Jimmy Armfield know exactly what I thought of his crossfield pass. To his credit, Jimmy held his hand up and took full responsibility for his mistake.

Jim Baxter started to run the game and we gave him all the room he needed to display his considerable skills. The England defence was all at sea and, in a moment of desperation, Ron Flowers of Wolves took the legs from under the Rangers winger Willie Henderson and the referee, Leon Horn from Holland, immediately pointed to the penalty spot.

Facing penalties could be like participating in the Leicester City card school. Sometimes you try and bluff your way through even when you know you haven’t a strong hand. The cool Jim Baxter, however, called my bluff: he approached the ball as if he was on a leisurely stroll in the park and casually placed it into the left hand corner of my goal as I dived the wrong way. Two–nil. Once again a tidal wave of noise swept down from the terraces and assailed my ears as the Tartan army jigged as one in celebration.

At half time Alf told us to sharpen our passing and get tighter on the troublesome Denis Law, Ian St John and Willie Henderson.

We played better in the second half and enjoyed the lion’s share of the play, but could only manage one goal in reply, from Blackburn’s Bryan Douglas. During this second period Jim Baxter gave full vent to his swaggering skills. At one point, he received the ball out on our right and, to the amazement of everyone, progressed down the wing juggling the ball up and down on his left foot. The Scottish supporters were in raptures. In the heat of furious combat there was ‘Slim Jim’ playing ‘keepy-uppy’ as if frolicking in his own back garden. Baxter, however, reserved his party piece for last. Having juggled the ball down our right wing, he then nudged it forward, swung his left foot over the ball and turned around so that he was now facing down the pitch. Baxter then brought his right leg behind his left and chipped the ball across into my penalty area. Ian St John met Baxter’s cheeky centre with his head but I managed to collect the ball underneath my crossbar. The Tartan army went wild and even we England players shook our heads in wonder at Baxter’s artful arrogance.

Following the final whistle, as both teams headed towards the tunnel Jim stuck the ball up his shirt and swaggered off the pitch. For all true lovers of football, Baxter’s artistry that day was a joy to behold. It was just my luck that he had chosen my England debut as the occasion on which to produce the greatest performance of his career!

Back in the dressing room my spirits were lifted somewhat when Alf Ramsey told me that he was very satisfied with my performance. His encouraging words instilled in me the hope that my England career may only just be beginning.

One month later, in May 1963, Alf Ramsey proved that his words of praise for my debut performance were sincerely meant, when he picked me for England’s game against Brazil, despite the finger injury I’d picked up at West Bromwich four days earlier. Having already lost a cup final at Wembley and been on the losing side on my international debut, I was praying for better fortune against the World Cup holders who were, without doubt, the best international team in the world.

Despite being without the world’s best player, Pelé, who was injured, Brazil had enough class and quality in their ranks to offer the severest of tests for England in what was Alf’s third game in charge. The England team was Gordon Banks (Leicester City); Jimmy Armfield (Blackpool), Ray Wilson (Huddersfield Town); Gordon Milne (Liverpool), Maurice Norman (Spurs), Bobby Moore (West Ham); Bryan Douglas (Blackburn Rovers), Jimmy Greaves, Bobby Smith (both Spurs), George Eastham (Arsenal), Bobby Charlton (Manchester United). The Brazilian line-up was Gilmar; Lima, Edoiardo; Zeuinha, Dias, Rildo; Dorval, Mengalvia, Coutinho, Amarildo, Pepe.

Brazil were unbeaten on their tour of Europe. Alf had watched them in action and had really done his homework. He had noticed Brazil liked to play the ball into the feet of their centre forward, Coutinho, so he told Gordon Milne to take up a position in front of Coutinho when Brazil were in possession to stop this happening.

Alf warned me to be on my toes if ever Brazil were awarded a free kick outside our penalty area. ‘They are fantastic strikers of the ball, Gordon,’ he told me, ‘and can bend and swerve it either way.’

Mindful of Alf’s words, I paid particular attention to lining
up the wall of defenders in front of me when Brazil were awarded a first-half free kick some seven yards outside our penalty area. I took up a position just to the right of centre and positioned the wall so that it overlapped my left-hand post. I was alert to the danger – but it was all to no avail. The Brazilian outside left, Pepe, sprinted up to the ball and with tremendous power sliced his left foot across it. I’d never seen a ball cut through the air at such a trajectory. It flew over our defensive wall heading for the left side of the goal. Naturally, I moved to my left, only for the ball to veer to my right and bulge the net. I simply couldn’t believe that anyone could make a ball move so much in the air. It was a terrific goal and I consoled myself with the thought that there wasn’t a goalkeeper in the world who would have got anywhere near it.

At half time, however, Alf was not best pleased. ‘I warned you about their free kicks,’ he said, ‘be on your toes!’ I tried to tell him that I had been on my toes, but that the swerve on the ball had duped me. Alf listened to what I had to say, but I could tell from his stern expression that he thought I should have at least got a hand to it.

I made up for it in the opening stages of the second half, though. First I managed to claw away a fierce downward header from Coutinho, then hold on to a long-range effort from Amarildo that was heading for my goal like a snake. Minutes later I saved from both Dorval and Mengalvia. Not conceding another goal during that spell of pressure from the Brazilians turned the game. As the second half progressed we began to assert ourselves and only some desperate defending on the part of the South Americans kept the score at 1–0. England were not to be denied, however. With minutes remaining our concerted pressure on the Brazilian defence paid off. Blackburn’s Bryan Douglas latched on to a great through-ball from Bobby Charlton and calmly beat Gilmar.