I was there in ’66 – 60th Anniversary edition – episode 8
England: Banks, Cohen, Wilson, Stiles, Charlton J, Moore, Ball, Hurst, Charlton R, Hunt, Peters
Portugal: Periera, Festa, Baptista, Carlos, Conclecao, Graca, Coluna, Augusto, Eusebio, Torres, Simoes
Referee: P.Schwinte (France)
Attendance: 94,493
For the first time in the tournament Alf Ramsey picked an unchanged side. His defence had been together throughout the tournament, but the use of wingers still haunted him as he was keen to play his new system in which the role of the traditional winger was obsolete.
Ramsey had, so far, tried three separate wingers – Terry Paine, Ian Callaghan and John Connelly – in the tournament but none had impressed, and Alf now decided it was time to stick rigidly to his own methods.
The other problem he had to confront was the return to fitness of Jimmy Greaves whose deft touches and prolific goal scoring feats made it very difficult to ignore him.
The manager finally decided not to risk him for this game and stuck with his strike force as Geoff Hurst and Roger Hunt.
There was much concern that the gruelling match against Argentina just three days earlier may have taken its toll on the bruised and tired England players.
Ramsey’s most significant decision was to appoint Nobby Stiles the task of marking the Portuguese danger man, Eusebio, and thus nullifying the biggest threat to England winning a place in the final.
What followed was easily the best ninety minutes of the whole tournament. Both teams displayed a propensity to play football as it should be played.
The much-vaunted hype regarding the potential confrontation between the respective hard men of each team, England’s Nobby Stiles and Portugal’s Joao Morais did not materialise as Morais was left out of their team and the contest was played in a true sporting spirit of mutual respect.
It was Portugal who played the most fluent football throughout the early stages, and this quelled the enthusiasm of a fervent English crowd still smarting after the ugly confrontation against Argentina.
Despite the greater possession by Portugal and the electric skills of Eusebio, who was shadowed everywhere by his ‘minder’, Nobby Stiles, few clear chances were being created. England were now looking very solid in defence, with Jackie Charlton outstanding, and they had yet to concede a single goal in the tournament to date. Gordon Banks was in a class of his own and the expression ‘as safe as the Banks of England’ was the most overused term in the British press.
Suddenly, after half an hour’s play, which had seen England being stretched and having to perform at their best to keep the Portuguese at bay, a through ball to Roger Hunt was blocked by the onrushing goalkeeper only to fall to Bobby Charlton on the edge of the Portuguese penalty area from which he fired a crisp shot past the sprawling Periera.
When the ball nestled in the back of the net, the crowd seemed to pause and collectively hold its breath before unleashing a torrent of delirium which rumbled into the dark night sky.
If anything, the goal seemed to dampen the spirits of the Portuguese team a little, and thoughts of South Korea’s three-goal romp came to mind. England now pushed forward with confidence and threatened to add to their tally on several occasions as the interval approached.
With the band back on the pitch at half-time, the crowd were suddenly in festive mood, and a veritable sing-song ensued with the inevitable choruses of ‘when the whites go marching in,’ joined by ‘Hitler has only got one ball’ to the tune of ‘Colonel Bogey’
From the start of the second half, it was noticeable that Torres, the tall and elegant Portuguese centre-forward, had adopted a much deeper role and this seemed to unsteady Jack Charlton, who wasn’t sure whether to follow him deep or mark the space he was leaving. Eusebio too had changed his role and was now appearing in Torres position as an orthodox centre-forward, which, in turn, gave Nobby Stiles a problem as his man-marker. Suddenly, Portugal were causing problems for us all over the pitch and the confident manner in which England finished the half disappeared as nerves set in and the opposition realised this was their one big chance for World Cup glory.
Twice Eusebio won headers in the penalty area with Banks saving smartly and Stiles managing to head away another effort.
Still, England struggled to impose themselves on the game, which had now developed into an enthralling contest with both teams thoroughly committed to attacking in force and defending with ferocity. The crowd had grown quite silent with the anxiety of the occasion, but as the minutes ticked away they began to find greater and greater voice.
What followed was one of the greatest goals I have ever seen in my life and absolutely befitting the match and the occasion. With just over ten minutes remaining, Geoff Hurst broke free to the by-line and managed to turn the ball back toward the edge of the area where Bobby Charlton was speeding in. Charlton struck the ball with such power and precision that the goalkeeper could hardly move before the net was bulging and the crowd erupted in delight. ‘That was a shot like a bloody cannonball,’ said Dad beaming broadly, as if even he couldn’t believe that Charlton had surpassed his goal against Mexico.
The England team celebrations also seemed to express a huge amount of relief as we now had that vital second goal gap to separate the teams and give us some vital breathing space.
‘England, England, England,’ chanted the crowd in unison as the atmosphere, again, became charged by an emotional outpouring of national fervour. My throat ached as I shouted as loud as I possibly could, as if we all seemed to believe that the volume alone would now carry us through to the final.
Dad still looked concerned. ‘It’s not over yet, son.’ He warned.
We all glanced anxiously at our watches as the match restarted and the anxious countdown began.
After just three minutes of celebratory mood the crowd was stunned as Torres won a powerful header which Jack Charlton handled on the line and the referee, Pierre Schwinte of France, immediately blew loudly and pointed to the penalty spot. ‘No, no,’ shouted the spectators in horror as the referee cautioned Charlton but did not send him off.
‘Don’t worry, Banksy will save it,’ yelled a voice behind me, and suddenly we were all confident again as he had looked unbeatable throughout the tournament, and this must unnerve any potential penalty taker.
Of course, it may have unnerved anybody else in the tournament except the one player who had been outstanding throughout, Eusebio. We all held our breath with fingers crossed tightly and muttered private hopes that he wouldn’t score as Eusebio took a few paces back before starting his run-up and Banks bounced on the balls of his feet on the line ready to spring into action.
The kick was an anticlimax as Eusebio easily buried the perfect penalty into the bottom left-hand corner with Banks hardly moving and Portugal were back in the game with nine minutes now separating England from the World Cup Final.
The noise became deafening as the final few minutes arrived, and this swelled into a crescendo with each passing second. I felt completely wired and my heart was racing as I fought to control my emotions. ‘Come on, England.’ I shouted hoarsely
Despite Portugal now playing with speed and flair, England defended brilliantly, chasing every ball as if their lives depended on it.
At last, the referee blew the final whistle – we had made it…!
The crowd went wild, but I watched quietly as the players hugged each other and the opposition in mutual respect. I knew I had witnessed something truly special and felt a pang of regret at the sight of Eusebio trudging off with his face contorted as he cried like a small child.
Nobody wanted to leave the stadium as we shouted endlessly for our heroes to emerge and receive our plaudits but Ramsey had, wisely, decreed that a lap of honour was premature and instead the players stood and waved at the four sides of the ground from the half-way line and then were gone, leaving us no choice but to wend our way home in joyous mood.
When the Portuguese Manager was asked after the match who he thought would win the World Cup final, he replied, ‘You have just seen the World Cup final, England and Portugal were the best two teams in the competition – and England won.