Talk of technique inevitably leads to Glenn Hoddle. What was he like to play alongside, and to deal with as a person? “I was never particularly close friends with him,” says Galvin, “but I obviously had a lot of respect for him, and to me he was always quite a genuine bloke. He was honest and he’d always talk to you and help you. Even now, people see him as a bit aloof, but I don’t see him as any different to what he was then; it’s just how people perceive him. He’s just a genuine, helpful bloke that you might not get too close to – I’m sure people have got close. But I’ve got to say, with my background, I wasn’t a great respecter of anybody when I went on the training pitch. I was just worried about myself. So if I had to kick him I would kick him. I know he would sometimes have a moan about me being a bit over-keen in training. Ricky did, he used to moan like hell about me kicking him. I was told off once or twice for it, and Paul was the same – we were both combative in training. But it what’s you had to do, and Keith would say, ‘That’s the way it is.’”
The tradition of the tough training games on the old White Hart Lane ball courts, forged in the days of Dave Mackay and the Double team, certainly lived on. “We’d play eight-a-side in the gym on a Friday and we’d kick the hell out of each other. The day before a match! The lads who weren’t playing used to get right in there. I know Paul got banned once for being over-keen, but his argument would be my argument: if you were going to get in the first team you had to train like you were going to play. You wouldn’t see that now. We had pumps on, but you couldn’t half make a mess of someone’s leg. Elbows were up . . . Keith sometimes had to call it a day. There were little battles with people wanting to get in the team; it could get quite nasty.”
It was perhaps inevitable that things would boil over, and Galvin remembers one particular incident when it did. “I saw Neil McNab and Steve Perryman have that big fight at Cheshunt. The story appeared in the Evening Standard. It was a big story, especially as the press weren’t really around that much, and it was a proper fight. We used to have these training games, normally the big one would be on a Thursday afternoon, reserves against first team. And it was full-blooded. It was a time when quite a few players were on the edge of the first team and asking, ‘Why am I not playing?’ Neil was often quite angry because he was getting left out of the first team, because we had Ricky, Glenn . . . I don’t know if there was history with Steve and Neil but they went into a tackle and . . . well, there was blood: it was a proper fight, proper fight. They had to be pulled apart. I can’t remember if Keith called it off but they were a mess, kicking lumps out of each other, and they would’ve just carried on. That was the biggest fight, that really sticks out.”
After those first-team appearances in 1978/79, Galvin was eyeing a regular place, but then a groin injury struck. “I’d finished the season in the first team, but I felt like I had groin strain all the time,” he says. “I got referred to a specialist. It was when people had started to diagnose it as something different, not just a groin strain. It was where your pelvis joined in the middle, a bit like arthritis, chipping away at your bone. Something had eroded and it meant you always felt you had groin strain, aches and pains all round there. Peter Taylor had it; he ended up having the same operation as me, but I had mine first. They fused the bone, took a bit of bone off my hip – I’ve still got the scar. It was a new operation, a bit risky. The specialist said, ‘You’re young enough to recover from this and come back, but there’s no guarantees.’ But I was in permanent pain, I couldn’t sprint properly, I could only do things at 70 per cent – so I thought I might as well go for it.
“It was the summer of 1979, and it was a big operation, I couldn’t move for about a week. The specialist had always said it could be anything from six months to a year to recover. And yet they had me playing a reserve game in December. Mike Varney did a lot of work. I had to take it easy for two months, but by then it had set and Mike said, ‘That’s it, it’ll never break – not unless you take a hammer to it.’ So then I had the confidence to get stuck in. I just had to strengthen my legs. First Saturday in January they had me on the bench.
“They had a problem with the left side of midfield, they didn’t have any left-sided players. Ricky was playing there and he absolutely hated it, but they didn’t know where else to play him. Then he got injured, I came in for him – QPR away in the cup – then played in the replay and scored: I did well, and I played right through to the cup final.”
At last Galvin felt established. “After two or three games I felt like I was part of the team. It was a different team that year anyway because we had Archie and Garth, two quality centre forwards.” How did the two new boys fit in? “Garth would always talk a lot, and Steve’s been described as a bit arrogant . . . selfish, quite selfish. He was friendly with one or two people, but not many.” So who was Galvin close to? “Graham Roberts – we used to room together a bit, I suppose because we had something in common, coming from non-league. I got quite friendly with him but then,” Galvin laughs, “he changed a bit and we started going away from each other. When Gary Mabbutt came I had a room with him. I used to room with Garry Brooke as well.” Galvin pauses at the mention of Brooke. “Garry was very unfortunate, because he was an outstanding player and his car crash did for him. He was always going to struggle after that. But at that stage he was an outstanding prospect. He could play right wing or middle of midfield, and he had a tremendous shot. He nearly died in that crash. One of the other lads at that time who was a really good player, Peter Southey, he died of cancer. He was a good full back. That sort of puts things in perspective.”
As Galvin begins to talk about the bonds between the players, the conversation turns to the team’s legendary social activities. “The time we used to go for a drink would be after the game,” he says. “Occasionally we might do during the week, as lads do, but mostly it’d be after the games. We stayed together. We used to go to this pub when we got off the coach near the training ground and chat about the game, the supporters used to come in, we’d chat to them. You wouldn’t believe that now, would you, playing in Leeds and getting back to Cheshunt about eight, nine o’clock and the supporters who’d been at the game coming in and having a chat about it?
“We were quite approachable. You did get a bit of abuse. If we’d got stuffed somewhere you might be a bit reluctant to go, but you’d just close ranks. Ray Clemence was very good with that, coming from Liverpool, the whole sticking-together bit. I’ve been in the pub when we’ve told people to leave us alone. If they weren’t going to be civil then we wouldn’t talk to them. That togetherness was the time I really used to feel part of the team. Then some people would go on somewhere, out in London. I wouldn’t, unless there was a do on. But that suited me, because I like to do my own thing, get my head down and get on with it. Don’t get me wrong – I did the social bit, but not all the time.
“The other thing was trips away. Trips away were very important. We’d get people together, do a bit of training. It was just the lads having a good chat. Steve was very good like that; Ray, Paul, Ossie, they all used to like to chat about football; Keith and Peter would often be there too. They were really important.
“We’d play, we’d train properly, but afterwards we’d be going out and having a good time. When people ask me about going away, some stories you just couldn’t repeat. But the one that always sticks in my mind is Swaziland. They love Tottenham in South Africa and the only way we could go was to go to Swaziland: we couldn’t go to South Africa because of apartheid. So we went to Swaziland two years running to play these exhibition games. We’d play Man Utd, then we’d play a mixed team against their national team. The first year was great because Man Utd were a bit like us, liked a good time. They were good lads – Bryan Robson, Arthur Albiston, Kevin Moran: we got on really well. The year after we went with Liverpool, and there was never a good feeling between Liverpool and Spurs, maybe because we would’ve liked to have been as successful as them, maybe because we were Londoners and
they thought we were flash. But there was a very bad atmosphere between the two teams; we didn’t mix.
“On this trip, some of their lads were just legless the whole time: they never sobered up. They weren’t bothered about the football. Their manager wasn’t bothered because they’d just won the European Cup. I’ve never seen people drink like it. They were only there because they’d agreed to go, whereas we were under a very strict behaviour code. It was always felt you had to represent Tottenham in a certain way.
“The first game we drew, then we played again a week later. It was boiling hot, and on the Saturday before the Sunday game we had a few drinks in the casino and started to mix a bit. As the night wore on, one by one our players went to bed – one, two, three o’clock and the nucleus of eight, nine, ten of their players were still up. At four o’clock they’re still up, and there was just me and Gary O’Reilly. They were taking the mickey out of our players, calling us lightweights. They were unbelievable. It was six o’clock before they went to bed and we thought, ‘We’re going to stuff them when we play tomorrow.’
“But they absolutely hammered us. Kenny Dalglish played, Ian Rush, Graeme Souness . . . We lost 4-1 or 5-1. They didn’t run: they were just pinging the ball around. It was one of the most embarrassing things I’ve ever seen, because they literally couldn’t run. And that shows what a good team they were.”
It’s the moment to ask one of the key questions about Galvin’s Spurs team – why did they never win the league? “We got close a couple of times,” he says. “We had a thing about going away and trying to entertain. Mind, you’d go to Liverpool and you couldn’t entertain because you couldn’t get the ball. I think we did go there a couple of times and try to shut up shop, but you’ve got to have the right players to play that way. We could’ve had more of a defensive unit, and that was one of the reasons I was in the team, I could get forward or I could drop off, like a modern wing-back. But we had other players who weren’t so good at that. Glenn wasn’t defensive; Ossie could do that job but his skills were elsewhere; Ricky wasn’t defensive-minded at all. And when Chrissie [Hughton] would go bombing up I’d have to sit in for him. So you’ve got to have the players. Liverpool would get 1-0 up and they’d have this mindset; you’ve got to go and break them down. But you have to hold your hands up and say they were a better team. They had better individuals right through. We might’ve played more exciting football on our day, but to win the league you’ve got to do that ugly stuff.”
Of course it all began with that famous 1981 FA Cup win, a significant season for both club and player, with Galvin establishing himself in a Spurs side whose self-belief was fired by the victory. “That was my first full season when I felt part of the team,” he says, and he remembers well the tension during the cup run. “The pressure starts to build once you win a couple of games, especially for Tottenham who were known for winning things and hadn’t done anything for quite a few years – bugger all really. So the pressure started to mount. Everyone was desperate for something to happen.”
The wrong thing almost happened the first time Spurs ventured away from White Hart Lane on the cup run, at the semi-final in Sheffield against Wolves. “The team was dead on its feet, hanging on. In the end, the ploy was just get the ball to me and run it to the corner flag, because we were knackered. It could’ve gone then.
“In the replay, we played some wonderful football. Towards the end it was a bit of showboating, knocking the ball around, Ricky was outstanding. That night we went up to a local hotel, the Enfield Chase, had some beers, a very down-to-earth celebration – although it was mobbed, bloody hell it was mobbed. It sticks in your mind that.”
What also sticks in the mind is the showbiz build-up to the final itself. “Yeah, the Ossie record was the unusual thing. That caught the imagination. We went on Top of the Pops – that was quite an interesting experience. I think Fun Boy Three and Bananarama were there . . . We all had a few beers at the BBC bar in Wood Lane, before, during and after. It was a good laugh. Fun Boy Three were alright, they were down to earth, and the girls were too,” Galvin grins. “I remember some of the lads being quite friendly.”
Three years after being a student playing non-league football, it must have seemed a bit unreal to be mixing with pop stars before the FA Cup Final. “It was a bit weird being on Top of the Pops, because you’d think, ‘What a bunch of wallies’, but it was a good laugh. Chas & Dave were great.”
Mention of the duo reminds Galvin of another musical milestone. “Once they came up to the training ground and they made that LP, the Christmas album. We made that in a mobile recording studio next to Cheshunt and we did it in about two or three hours. It was in an afternoon after training; we had a few beers and we were away. Steve [Perryman] was a driving force, trying to generate a bit of extra money for the players.” He laughs. “That was a classic: making that album; mobile studio; one take a song. And l think it’s quite good fun to listen to. Quite impressive, making an album in three hours!”
But the strongest memories are of the final itself. “When you walk out, that sound, there’s nothing to replicate that, ever. The first time you walk up the incline, the sound hits you. The hairs go up on the back of your neck; you never have a feeling like that again because second time you know what to expect. You go from peace and quiet to that enormous roar and you see all these people. You never ever, ever, replicate that in anything you do in football. Maybe if you play in a World Cup final. I’ve played at Barcelona and Real Madrid, but never ever come across anything like walking up the tunnel at the old Wembley.”
And at the end? “There’s an element of relief. You try and enjoy that moment and it is great, walking up the steps, getting patted on the back, then you get the chance to lift the cup, and that is very special. But there’s also an element of, ‘Thank God it’s over, thank God we’ve won and a bit of the pressure’s off now’. We were under a lot of pressure in those two games. And it was nice for the supporters to have something to shout about.
“We went back to the Chanticleer on the coach. Driving to the ground after the game, all singing on the coach, well, it was just mayhem on the High Road and on the North Circular – complete mayhem all the way to the ground. And the party we had then . . . It was just the players, friends, family, it was just magnificent. Sit-down buffet, plenty to drink; it was a magnificent atmosphere because it was what everybody had dreamt of. It went right through to six in the morning.”
A number of the players have mentioned how important that win was, so it seems the right time to ask what difference it made to the team’s mindset.
“We expected to win more often than lose, that was the difference,” says Galvin. “We realised we had a good group of players, we gelled as a team and there was a real belief that we could win almost any game. So of course it was more enjoyable. We played some magnificent football that season, maybe the best we ever played.”
The football was good, but despite another FA Cup win, that season will always be remembered for the ones that got away. “The Milk Cup final we were flying, really fancied on the day,” says Galvin. “We were outstanding first half, we should’ve gone in two up. I had that awful injury when Micky played a short ball to me in the middle of midfield, and Graeme Souness – he’s admitted it since – saw the opportunity to do me and he did. These days I would never have carried on: there was a great big gash down my shin – I’ve still got the mark. He went down the side of my shinpads. I should’ve come off at half-time but decided to carry on, which I should never have done. I thought we’d hang on, but typical Liverpool got the equaliser, and then we really were on our last legs that day.
“But the one that really killed us was the Barcelona game, where Ray [Clemence] let that one shot slip through his hands. We’d completely and utterly outplayed them and they’d kicked absolute shit out of us. These days they’d have had eight players sent off, they got away with murder because they were the famous club. I remember talking to Brian Glanville once
and he was adamant that it was a set-up because the final was going to be in Barcelona. And the first leg, the referee was so lenient – they’d bodycheck you, kick you . . . But we outplayed them. Then we went over there, played well again, but they went 1-0 up and just shut up shop. But you’ve got to win your home leg. The first leg, though, it was a disgrace. That really annoyed me, it sticks with me from that season. We deserved to be in that final.”
It would be another season before Tottenham tasted European glory, and that campaign holds happy memories for Tony Galvin. “The Feyenoord game was good because I scored a couple of goals. That year we played some wonderful football, especially that game. They were two great games, and going over there and winning after what had happened previously with Spurs fans was a great thing, it meant a lot to the supporters.
“The Anderlecht game away [in the final] was probably one of the best we played. But we couldn’t get a second goal again. But they were a very, very good team. I watched Tottenham play them this year and I thought Anderlecht were awful. When you think when we played them back then, they had Franky Vercauteren; Morten Olsen, one of the great centre halves, they were full of internationals.”
The Boys From White Hart Lane Page 14