‘We can look back at the ref’s decisions, but we had a job to do ourselves’
IT might make me feel old to realise that first FA Cup semi-final against Arsenal was 50 years ago today. It also probably makes me realise just how young we were back then. was 21 playing in what is now the Premier League for a club I loved, a team that I’d watched since I was five or six – alongside some of my heroes. I’d cheered on Harry Burrows then he was my team-mate and he’s a friend I still love to bits.
These are dreams come true. We were playing against great players, the World Cup winners, and we were a strong team in our own right. We were confident going up against anyone – and because we played virtually the same XI most weeks we knew each other inside out.
The club was in such a good position: talented local kids coming through, learning from players with great international experience and players who knew Division One inside out.
We were fit as fleas. Taking us training were Roy Fowler, a 10,000-metre runner, and Derek Ibbotson, who had won bronze over 5,000 metres at the 1956 Olympics. We did running by the canal, we did speed work on the track and stamina work on Trentham Hills.
Behind us every step was Frank Mountford, who wouldn’t let you rest. He’d been in the same shoes as us, a grizzled midfielder for Stoke who’d once bitten into tongue so hard during a game that half of it was hanging out.
We had all the traits that you see Jose Mourinho demanding now: quality, athleticism and hunger.
Training was as intense as a match day and even the day before that semi-final there was a punch-up. Gordon Banks was playing outfield in a five-a-side, there was a clash with Josh Mahoney and crash, bang, wallop, they were at each other.
You can imagine how Tony
Waddington was pulling his hair out on the eve of such a big game… but he probably did that every Tuesday when we had a practice game. He was always pulling his hair out!
Banksy was demanding. You had to hit a level every week with him behind you and he never left us alone. He’d play the ball to you in a tight area and expect you to make the right decision. He made you work, made you play, made you think.
His high standards spread through the team and we used to bite each other. Bluto, Alan Bloor, was a quiet assassin. When he spoke you listened. You followed Smithy, Denis Smith, with his performance. In front of us, TC, Terry Conroy, was always moaning and groaning and Jimmy G, Greenhoff, same as Bluto, would deliver pearls.
Peter Dobing could look after himself and had high expectations and big John Ritchie up front was a fierce competitor who made sure centre-backs knew they were in a game.
And the fans were tremendous, absolutely tremendous. They were hard-working people who made the Victoria Ground a cauldron of hostility for the opposition. It started with Zigger Zagger in the Boothen End and spread around the ground. They knew they were on to a good thing with this side and together we felt like we had the world at our feet.
I can’t tell you how much fun it was to have them on your side. I’d
be in there, we were supporters too. There was a bond and you never wanted to let them down. Then came Arsenal.
We’d beaten Huddersfield after two replays in the fourth round, taken a replay to beat Ipswich and come back from 2-0 down at Hull to win 3-2 in the quarter-finals.
This was the first time Stoke had reached the last four since 1899 and the build-up was strange really, like a dream. It was tense but we were in control. It wasn’t a fear, there was a confidence. We could all look each other in the eye and know what was coming. We were ready.
We started on fire and were 2-0 at half-time with goals from Smith and Ritchie. Smithy’s goal was a tackle and it went in. Brilliant.
Then we had a chance to make it three. Mahoney was through one-on-one and that should have been it. He didn’t get into many chances like that and he drew Bob Wilson off his line… but went for a shot when he could have shifted the ball to the side and sidefooted it in.
There should have been no coming back for Arsenal but then
Peter Storey scored a thunderbolt and it was 2-1.
Still, the ball then found its way to Greenhoff on the halfway line. He controlled it and went past a pair of defenders and got into another one-on-one. I remember thinking at the time that we’d won. Jim was one of the highest technical ability players in the league. He was a banker.
Somehow, I don’t know why, he chose to shoot instead of going around Wilson. He tried to play it over. He is the player you’d want in that position 100 times out of a 100 but after that, well, it was just chaos.
Arsenal threw everything to the wind, threw everyone forward. The ball was being smashed forward and challenges were flying in.
The next thing there was a free-kick given against myself and I still swear five decades on that it was a fair challenge. I think it was on George Armstrong. I was on the correct side and won the ball but maybe the referee Pat Partridge was caught up in the Arsenal momentum.
The free-kick came over and there was a foul on Banksy. John Radford barged into his back as he was gathering the ball. He dropped it and it was obvious. Instead Partridge gave Arsenal a corner. It was shocking and we lost it.
I ran after the ref, we all ran after the ref, Arsenal took a quick corner, we weren’t ready, we weren’t set, there were players unmarked. We all chased the ball and there were 10 players going for it. We were jumping for everything, Mahoney was outstretched on the line to handball it away.
Banksy tried to psych Storey out at the penalty. He stood his ground and forced the striker to make the decision but it was passed down the middle. Banksy was out of balance and it squeezed in .
It’s either your day or it isn’t and having been in control, this one wasn’t. We had two chances to make it and we didn’t take them. We can look back on the referee’s decisions but we had the job to do ourselves.
Arsenal went on to win the replay comfortably a few days later at Villa Park – we were never in it – and ended up with the double. You always say Lucky Arsenal but they had good management. Don Howe was a world-renowned coach. They were well organised and they were well respected. Hopefully so were we.
It changes your life and it still haunts me. I shouldn’t be surprised by that because it still feels like yesterday.
I can still feel the tingle of that whole atmosphere, the expectation that we were going to do it from ourselves and the supporters who believed in us so much. It’s part of history that will never leave you.
At least we got there. We gave the fans a team to believe in and memories, good and bad. It’s all part of the game we love. What a team to play for. Just to be involved was an ambition fulfilled.