Now I'm getting the World Cup Willies all over again...
A superb recent article in the Grauniad Sport Blog* prompted me to fondly recall my own politically incorrect World Cup, 1966...
On July 30th, 1966 I was almost 11½ years old, and my memory tells me that in Cambridge the weather was warm and sunny. Met Office records disagree, but I still back my rose-tinted memory.
On that particular Saturday afternoon, I was expected to attend a matinee performance of the hit musical ‘Caribbean Gold’, jointly written by St. John’s College Preparatory School Geography teacher Robin Ivy… and my Mum. It also featured a performance – in the role of a suitably ‘blacked up’ carib – by my little brother. Today, Mr. Ivy’s inspired libretto – like the blacking up - would be considered political suicide, the only lyrics I recall being:
“Carib he lib in de swamp. Swamp is very, very domp.
(Chorus) Wolla, wolla HOO HA, wolla wolla HOO HA!”
Not surprisingly my enthusiasm was muted… to the point of outright rebellion. England were playing West Germany (millennials note the ‘West’) in the World Cup Final at Wemberlee. And although we weren’t remotely a football-loving household, I was besotted by the game. No-one could quite understand why because, in our house, football was still thought to be very much for the working classes!
I was already distraught that I’d just played my last ever season of organised ‘soccer’ (prep school speak) and would be condemned to winters of ‘rugger’ for the rest of my schooldays. Now they expected me to miss the biggest England match EVER – live in black and white in our lounge – for some desperate school musical (sorry Mum).
I had my World Cup Willie (sic), knew Lonnie Donegan’s execrable World Cup song backwards, and was loving every minute of the tournament. After Spillers ‘Dog of the Year 1966’ – Pickles - had miraculously found the stolen World Cup 3 months earlier, the run-up to the Final had been fantastic.
Our 4-4-2 ‘wingless wonders’ were looking only OK in the early stages – a bit like this year. But things really took off with the 1-0 quarter-final victory against Argentina, when their Captain, Rattin, was dramatically sent off and the rest of the team and coaching staff behaved – in the words of England manager Alf Ramsey (and TV commentator Kenneth Wolstenholme) – ‘like animals’.
Then came Portugal, with the fabulous Eusebio vying with Pele to be the world’s greatest footballer (just think Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi 52 years back) in the semi. Amazingly England’s fish and chip heroes managed to overcome these effete, sardines-and-port brigade continentals.
All that was left was to put the Krauts firmly in their place, and hadn’t we done that already as recently as 1918 and 1945? Even if Harold Wilson and Labour were now in charge, there was still a decent amount of red on the world map, and we could surely summon enough John Bull spirit to triumph in this war, too… Having finally won my personal battle to stay at home and miss ‘Caribbean Gold’, the anticipation was unbearable.
The rest, however, is history. From the moment the Germans went 1-0 up, then squeezed a flukey equaliser in the 89th minute to take it to extra time. From Geoff Hurst ‘scoring’ our 3rd thanks to that legendary blind Russian linesman, to Kenneth Wolstenholme uttering the magic lines:
“Some people are on the pitch, they think it's all over. It is now!”
I’m just hoping that the long, long wait is too. Willie's out again - and I’m going nowhere tonight!
* That Guardian article can be found here:
https://www.theguardian.com/football/blog/2016/jul/24/1966-world-cup-final-conspiracy-refereeing-50-years