It was, as Jack’s hangover confirmed, a night of rare and pleasurable tumult – a night when nobody around us seemed to want it to end.
It was on the balcony of the Royal Garden Hotel in Kensington, to where we had been moved from Hendon Hall with our wives, that I first saw that Alf was at last relaxing in the knowledge that he had achieved all that he had desired. As we showed the great trophy to the crowd, and the cheers swept up from the street, his face was covered in a wide and most uncomplicated smile. The stern face of the commander was replaced by that a young boy standing beneath a Christmas tree.
The mood of the night was as perfect as it could possibly have been in those days which in one extraordinary detail will doubtless seem quite bizarre to the generation of today. This was the fact that our wives, from whom we had been separated for so long, were not invited to the official reception and dinner. They were entertained in a room away from the great banqueting hall, a place entitled the Bulldog Bar. When all the FA committee men and Fifa officials, some of whom had been so keen to banish Nobby, had been catered for, there was simply no room for the most important people in the lives of the men who had achieved the victory.
As it happened, my mother – perhaps on the strength of the fact that she had provided not one but two members of the winning team – made it into the great banquet. I was pleased for her, naturally, but it didn’t lessen the irritation I shared with my team-mates that our wives had not been recognised. George Cohen was so indignant he threatened to boycott the official celebrations and go into the London night with his family and friends.
Alf, predictably, argued against such a rebellion. He had shaped the triumph on his own terms and it was one which all those of us involved would have for ever. He could have pointed out that there was no place on the high table for his own wife Vicky but instead he said we should honour those who had given us so much support in our own ways – and for the rest of our lives.
Later he wrote letters to each of us saying how proud he was of our achievement and what we had done for our country. Deep down, I think he feared that there might be any kind of blemish on the greatest day – and night – of our careers.
Of course it was outrageous that our wives were snubbed but then, I suppose, we have to remember they were different days with different values and it was not as though we did not have time to rescue a night that not one of us was likely to forget – and for much more uplifting reasons. This was because at almost every moment of an often chaotic night – Norma was alarmed especially when the overloaded lift in the Royal Garden jammed and seemed to take an age before spilling us back into the noisy crowd – somebody had something to say about an aspect of the game, an emotion that had carried us to the stars or, briefly, cast us back to earth.
None of us could quite believe that London, of all places, could so quickly and so completely shed its inhibitions. From the moment Nobby had performed his joyful jig out on the field, it was though a great and long-established national restraint just melted away.
And no one was more touched than Alf. When we arrived at Hendon Hall, where we changed for our night of celebration, he produced a jeroboam of champagne a well-wisher had thrust into his hands as he left Wembley. Alf recalled, ‘It was really terrific. We had a lot of laughter and fun before we piled into the coach.’ And then as thousands flooded into Trafalgar Square and around our hotel in Kensington, Alf became the most enchanted observer of the homage being paid to his team and, he didn’t need to say it, his work.
He gave a most vivid report on our halting progress into the West End, saying, ‘Everywhere there were people lining the pavements and waving and shouting. There were more and more and more as we neared the centre of London. One man stood in the middle of the road with his arms in the air and then ran towards us until we had to stop. Then he climbed up, put his head through a window and all he could say was, “I love you all, I love you all.”
‘It was fifteen minutes before we could move on. He was quite a chap. Further along our way was barred by a car parked slap across the road like a barricade and a young girl in a bright red mini-skirt danced on top of it. And there was a public house with about forty customers outside, every one of them holding up a pint of beer in a toast. I felt the excitement then and there is nothing quite like it.’
Running through all the night and into the early hours of Sunday morning was this purest of elation. It shaped utterly our mood as we made our different ways from the Royal Garden, where the prime minister Harold Wilson had appeared to join in the euphoria – and perhaps make a little political capital.
One large party including Nobby, Bally and Geoff Hurst and their wives headed for Danny La Rue’s nightclub.
Bobby Moore had been invited to the Playboy Club in Park Lane and Norma and I, the Easthams and the Wilsons joined him. The Playboy Club was maybe not my natural habitat but I enjoyed it well enough even while following my habit, formed after excessive celebrations as one of Manchester United’s youngest first-teamers, of merely sipping an exotic World Cup cocktail. I suppose I didn’t want to blur the edges of my contentment.
That certainly held as Norma and I returned to our hotel room at the first streak of dawn and I tried to explain the depth of my happiness but she said, ‘Bobby, I know. You will always remember these hours – and rightly so.’
In that, as in so many other aspects of our life together, she was right. Over fifty years the glitter has never faded. Whatever has happened to me, good or bad, it has been maybe my safest harbour and I know that it is also true of all my team-mates, including those less fortunate ones like George Cohen and Gordon Banks, who have had to fight serious illness, and Nobby and Ray who have had to deal with the fading of the brightest light of memory.
My greatest wish now is the one that has accompanied the years since we learned all of how it felt to be champions of the world. It is that another generation of English footballers get to know the same feeling. If it should happen, certainly no one will be able to say that the important lesson of how it might do so had not been waiting, decade upon decade, for some serious perusal.
It has all been there, from the moment Bobby Moore walked up to receive the trophy from the Queen. It has lain in the vision and the strength of Alf Ramsey, who was so shabbily treated by the men for whom he so brilliantly accomplished the greatest task they set him.
Today, when the administration of world football has to remake itself from under the shadow of corruption, when the deepest values of the most popular game are under siege, he remains the great hero of the story I have been proud to tell.
He is still the diamond shining in the leaves.
1. Jack and me signing autographs after a training session.
2. Front row (left to right): Jack Charlton, Keith Newton, Alan Ball, Geoff Hurst, Bobby Charlton, Bobby Moore; back row: George Cohen, Nobby Stiles, Joe Baker, Peter Thompson, Gordon Banks, George Eastham, Ron Springett, Gordon Milne, Ron Flowers, Ray Wilson, Paul Reaney, Jimmy Greaves, Gordon Harris, Norman Hunter, Roger Hunt, assistant coach Harold Shepherdson.
The 1966 World Cup squad getting ready for our team photo.
3. Being put through our paces at Lilleshall training camp.
4. We had a few laughs too, here Nobby Stiles and Alan Ball relieve the pressure with some tomfoolery.
5. At last, our (and my) first goal at the World Cup. We went on to beat Mexico 2–0.
6. England v Mexico on 16 July. Mexico’s goalkeeper Ignacio Calderón punches the ball away from Jack.
7. On our way out to face France on 20 July in our final group game.
8. An unforgettably-scarred game against Argentina on 23 July. Captain Antonio Rattín refuses to leave the pitch after his red card.
9. Jubilation as Geoff Hurst’s goal puts us through to the semi-finals after we win 1–0.
10. We faced Portugal on 26 July and here Alan Ball (second left), me (third left) and Roger Hunt (second right) celebrate my opening goal, to the disappointment o
f José Pereira (third right), Mário Coluna (right) and Hilário (left).
11. The great Eusébio and my friend Nobby Stiles duel for the ball.
12. Our second goal, and we’re through to the World Cup final.
13. Eusébio is consoled by his teammates. A wonderful player, a wonderful game.
14. Relief and delight from Gordon Banks and Nobby.
15. We had some time to relax in between games. Here Jack, my mother Cissie, and I celebrate our passage through to the World Cup final.
16. Time for a spot of cricket in a friendly match at Roehampton.
17. A round of golf during a break in training the day before the final.
18. A visit to Pinewood Studios and the set of You Only Live Twice. Jimmy Greaves (left) and Bobby Moore (right) meet Sean Connery and Yul Brynner.
19. We enjoyed a few games of cards, this time I had a full house against (left to right) Peter Bonetti, Martin Peters, Jack and Bobby.
20. Alf Ramsey talking to reporters on the eve of the World Cup final.
21. Cheered on by the crowds as we head to Wembley for the most important match of our lives.
23. Some of the wonderful crowds supporting us at Wembley stadium.
24. Lined up for the national anthem on that historic day, 30 July 1966.
25. And off we go, all of us aware of what we need to do.
26. Celebrations as Martin Peters gives us the lead.
27. And we’re 2–1 up in the World Cup final!
28. Franz Beckenbauer and I were rarely apart from each other.
29. A missed chance to put the trophy beyond West Germany’s reach.
30. And with just a minute to go, West Germany equalise.
31. As we gather ourselves for extra time, we remind ourselves of Alf’s words, all that time ago: ‘Gentlemen, most certainly we will win the World Cup’.
32. And it’s in! At the time, I was sure of it.
33. Geoff Hurst completes his hat-trick and we have won the World Cup!
34. Ray Wilson parades the Jules Rimet trophy around the stadium.
35. Collecting the trophy from Her Majesty the Queen.
36. The final score, England 4, West Germany 2.
37. Winners of the World Cup.
39. While us players were at a banquet, our wives and girlfriends celebrated, along with my father.
40. The wonderful crowds that greeted Our Kid and me on our return home to Ashington.
Acknowledgements
OF ALL THE privileges of a football career that I will always see more than anything as a huge and sometimes unfathomable gift, none was greater than being part of the team of ’66. My strongest wish is that this gratitude is expressed fully in these pages.
I cannot separate one from another any of my dear team-mates. Each one of them was a champion I was proud to play alongside.
Away from the field I have always been wonderfully supported and sustained by the love of my wife Norma, my daughters Suzanne and Andrea and my grandsons Robert and William and granddaughter Emma.
In the producing of this book I join my friend and collaborator James Lawton in appreciation of the skill and encouragement of editors Frances Jessop and Matt Phillips.
James Lawton would also like to thank his agent David Luxton for his unflagging help and advice and, as always, the long-tested patience of his wife Linda.
Index
The page references in this index correspond to the printed edition from which this ebook was created. To find a specific word or phrase from the index, please use the search feature of your ebook reader.
Note: ‘BC’ denotes Bobby Charlton. All references are to BC’s England career unless otherwise stated. References to countries, cities and towns are to teams unless otherwise indicated.
Adamson, Jimmy 28–30
Albert, Flórián 27, 237
Albrecht, Rafael 222
Allchurch, Ivor 23
Allison, Malcolm 26, 36
Amancio, Amaro 94–5
Andrews, Jimmy 36
Arbour, Marcel 201
Argentina:
Taça das Nações (Nations Cup) (‘Little World Cup’), Brazil (1964)
v Brazil 73, 194, 203, 214, 216, 220
v England 88
World Cup (1962) 27–8, 73
World Cup (1966) 14–15, 198, 200, 203, 204, 205, 206–12, 13–25, 226, 227–9, 230, 235, 236, 238, 250, 252
World Cup (1986) 15, 28, 194
Armfield, Jimmy:
BC becomes roommate of 44
BC’s all-time England XI and 66
captaincy of England 44, 55, 63, 156, 257
England friendly/tour matches 15–16, 35, 46, 55
loses England place to Cohen 15–16, 46, 64, 66, 72, 84, 255, 256, 257
Ramsey and 15–16, 35, 44, 55, 63, 64, 257
Armstrong, Joe 108
Arsenal 60, 63, 92, 126, 129, 131, 153, 155–6
Atkinson, Trevor 234–5
Augusto, José 226, 229, 247, 249, 260–1
Austria 38, 88, 118
Baker, Joe 126, 132–3
Bakhramov, Tofik 278, 279, 280
Ball, Alan 41, 58, 72, 135, 142, 158–9, 165, 198
character 132, 143, 212, 228
death 2, 3, 176
England debut 130–1
England friendly/tour matches 119, 123, 126, 130–1, 135
father and 132, 212
MBE 178
Ramsey discipline and 149–50
selection for England squad 43, 72, 128–32, 135, 142, 147, 153
World Cup (1966)
celebrations after winning 286
final 9, 255, 256, 263, 265, 268, 270, 271, 272, 274–5, 276, 278, 279, 280, 282
group stage 160, 186, 190
quarter-final 198, 206–7, 212, 217, 228
semi-final 236, 239, 247, 248
Banks, Gordon 41, 63, 70, 74, 77, 287
Alf Ramsey and selection for England team 57, 67, 68, 70, 74, 78, 84, 85, 87, 153
brilliance and dedication of 49–50, 51
England friendly/tour matches 68, 77, 78, 87
failure of Manchester United to sign 131, 165, 236
Jack Charlton, appreciates physical authority of 118
Nobby Stiles, on the furious game of 103
World Cup (1966) 41, 51, 165, 236, 252, 263, 265
final 9, 263, 265, 267–8, 269, 271, 274
quarter-final 217, 222
semi-final 242, 243, 246, 247, 250
World Cup (1970) 32, 49–50
Banks, Tommy 61
Baptista, Alexandre 248
Bass, Alan 72, 153, 172, 182, 250
Baxter, Jim 15, 55
Beckenbauer, Franz:
BC and 18
Bobby Moore and 53, 54
World Cup (1966) 8, 237, 256–9, 260, 264, 265, 267, 268, 270, 271, 272, 273, 274, 275, 276, 278–9, 280
World Cup (1970) 31
Bell, Colin 31
Bene, Ferenc 119, 237
Benfica 8, 94, 229, 243, 244, 275
Bent, Geoff 92
Best, George 8, 30, 63–4, 146, 168, 229, 231–2
Blackburn 134, 142
Blackpool 5, 15, 37, 66, 87, 128, 131, 153
Blanchflower, Danny 42, 201
Boca Juniors 214
Bolton Wanderers 61, 62, 132
Bonetti, Peter 32–3, 153
Borja, Enrique 188
Bovington, Eddie 142
Brazil 38, 39
England friendly matches 60, 62, 67, 72, 77, 78, 210
Taça das Nações (Nations Cup) (‘Little World Cup’), Brazil (1964)
v Argentina 73, 203, 214, 216, 220
v England 71–3, 134, 210
World Cup (1950) 25, 171, 240
World Cup (1958) 23–4, 195, 220, 240
World Cup (1962) 26, 27, 220
World Cup (1966) 137, 160, 181, 189, 191–4, 217, 220–1
World Cup (1970) 6–7, 52, 267
Bremner, Billy 83, 99, 100
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Brown, Gordon 178
Bulgaria 209–10
v England Under-23 (1957) 209–10
World Cup (1962) 27, 28, 160
World Cup (1966) 181, 191–2, 193, 197, 199, 220
Burnley 29, 135, 179
Busby, Sir Matt 62
BC and 30, 62, 104, 262, 275
Busby Babes and 20, 146, 151
European Cup (1968) and 30, 96, 275
Jimmy Murphy and 6, 93
management style 42, 219, 221–2
Munich air crash (1958) and 8, 93, 163
Nobby Stiles and 97, 99, 100, 104, 146
Busby Babes 20, 146, 151
Byrne, Johnny ‘Budgie’ 74, 103, 134
Byrne, Roger 20, 23, 92
Calderón, Ignacio 185, 187, 188
Callaghan, Ian 43, 133, 134, 137, 153, 157, 190–1, 207
Cambodia 7
Cantona, Eric 148
Cardiff City 36, 165
Catterick, Harry 131
Charles, John 23
Charlton, Andrea (daughter) 230
Charlton, Sir Bobby:
Alf Ramsey and see Ramsey, Alf
all-time England XI 66
1966 Page 26