How Times Have Changed.

Finney as I remember him.

Today, April 5th, is  89th  birthday of one of the footballing greats. Certainly the greatest player who ever played for his club and many would argue probably the greatest player this country ever produced. Tom Finney of Preston North End.

A quietly spoken man. Slight, almost gaunt - as a player not an obvious athlete. Indeed, at 14 he weighed less than 5 stones and stood only 4ft 9inches tall. He would have never made it in the game today where brute strength and no little ignorance  is the required CV for the bash and crash aggression which today passes for sport of all kinds but especially football.

I saw Finney many times, queued for his autograph regularly, was present at Stamford Bridge when the iconic photograph -  'the Splash' - was taken of him and I was there  at his final game and stood in the throng on the Preston pitch as he said his last farewell in 1960 – a  match against Luton. As he ran onto the pitch at the start of the game the crowd joined together to sing "Auld Lang Syne" and at the end of the game, Finney having given a little speech of thanks (no monosyllabic grunting, no expletives, no drunken revelry or spraying of champagne)  the crowd surrounding him sang 'For he's a jolly good fellow' and clapped and cheered. A huge amount of love and respect from the Preston crowd – his one and only club. My abiding memory of Finney was not goal celebrations in the style of Rooney, not athletic power play but silky skills as he picked up the ball on the half way line and jinxed down the right wing close to where I used to sit as a child on the cinder track at the side of the pitch or later stand behind the metal barrier or stand. He would drift pass one then two players and approach the angle of the box, the full back waiting to pounce. He would hover, ball between his feet waiting, drop his shoulder and go the other way. The full back would lunge but Finney had gone, or if the defender was unlucky, he caught the great man and a penalty was awarded.

Bradman in his prime

Bill Shankly who played with Finney at Preston was one of his greatest admirers. Shankly’s wit is renowned  and he got it just right when he said: "Tom Finney would have been great in any team, in any match and in any age ... even if he had been wearing an overcoat” and later when asked to compare one of his Liverpool stars with Finney he said  "Aye, he's as good as Tommy – but then Tommy's nearly 60 now”

I thought about all this as I read the latest objectionable revelations about Wayne Rooney's behaviour - and thought  how far we have come as a society. Like Rooney, Finney was from a very humble background but not only was he a superior footballer and sportsman he was also a more mature and responsible person. We make so many excuses for players today - young men from humble backgrounds who suddenly find themselves rich beyond their wildest dreams, the pressure of the game, the pressure and intrusion of the media etc. etc. What we also forget is that they are living the dream and they consistently behave like fools and yobs. I am reminded of two comments from real stars of days gone by. Keith Miller, the Australian test cricketer of the  fifties usually regarded as the greatest all rounder Australia ever produced. He once famously said of pressure in sport; 'playing in a test match isn't pressure - pressure is having a messerschmit  up your bum' - Miller had been a bomber pilot in the war. And closer to home, the great Bolton centre forward Nat Lofthouse, one of Finney's peers and a great personal friend. Lofthouse died recently and Finney attended his funeral. Lofthouse had worked in the mines and continued to work there while he played football for Bolton and he often said 'Football's not work it's easy money - I've worked down the mines and I know'. Perhaps Mr Rooney and his ilk need a messerschmitt up their tattood bums and work experience down the mines to assist them in growing up and getting a grasp of reality.

And as I thought about this blog, another name came to mind – not a footballer, but unarguably the world’s greatest cricketer – Bradman. Similar to Finney in so many ways. Not a sensationalist, not a rabble-rouser – quiet, ultra disciplined, focused with consummate skills. He was revered abroad as well. When Nelson Mandella was released after 27 years in prison, one of his first questions  was, "Is Sir Donald Bradman still alive?" A few years ago when in Australia I had a never to be forgotten day at the Adelaide Oval – Bradman’s 'home'. We had a guided tour and the guide proudly told us that a huge percentage of 'the Don’s' runs were from singles – not from whiz bang crash boundaries. 'That’s boring' said one of the young Brits (baseball cap facing backwards!)in the group. 'No it isn’t' said the guide – 'it’s skill'. When Bradman scored his world record score (334)  at Leeds in July 1930 he scored only 46 fours the rest were singles. He scored 300 in one day. His career average records that he scored about three quarters of his runs from singles rather than the big hit – rolling his wrist, guiding and gliding the ball through the gaps. In the whole of his test career he scored only 6 sixes! Twenty Twenty Cricket would never have suited Bradman – nor would the chanting crowd or the Barmy Army who want instant excitement and gratification. Personally I believe it is all to do with brain cells – they have too few and this means they can’t concentrate for long  enough to enjoy the subtle parts of the game! Like a drug taker they need a regular  'fix' - a goal or a violent incident, a boundary or a screamed rant at the ref. Like a drug taker the small skills and nuances of the game are insufficient to register in their addled minds.The tension and the 'excitement', the violence and the aggression has to be constantly hyped up to satisfy the habit - just as the drug taker has to constantly increase his 'fix' to gain any satisfaction, so too with modern crowds the adrenalin has to be fed with glamour, excitement, aggression, power, goals, runs, action, controversy. There is no place for the quiet skills and integrity of the game.

The Splash!

Finney and Bradman were similar and yet very different. Finney from a large, poor family was born within yards of the Preston North End ground and from the earliest days wanted to be a footballer. His father insisted he learned a trade - plumbing - and to this day he is known as the 'Preston Plumber'. His mother died when he was four - he was thus reliant on his father. His father, a keen football supporter gave him one bit of advice "Accept the rules of the game. The referee is always right and nothing you say or do after a decision could or should alter anything". Finney played his whole career without being booked or sent off. Bradman was from a small family and lived in the Australian bush. With no playmates he practised his cricket - hour after hour hitting a ball against a water butt. There was no point hitting the ball hard - he would have to had to run after it so he concentrated on skill and control. It made him the consummate batsman. As a youngster he was taken by his father one day to the Sydney cricket ground - on that day he vowed that he would play there and from that moment on he was a driven man. Both Finney and Bradman were articulate thinking people. This was the age before players had agents to speak for them or to advise them what to say. Finney's hero was the Preston player Alex James and he said of him " he had sublime skills" - I don't somehow see Rooney uttering those words! Finney's comment is perhaps also indicative of the reason for the changing times. Sport today (indeed, perhaps life too) is not based around 'sublime skills' or finesse or subtlety or sporting conduct. It is, like today's modern world, brash and  'in your face' - instantly accessed and instantly forgotten.  Batsmen no longer 'walk' when they know they are out - they await the umpire's decision and often accept it with ill grace. No, it is based around power play, athleticism, strength - and sadly 'gamesmanship' and intimidation. In tennis, long gone are the long rallies - they are replaced by power serves and brute strength - even in women's tennis. And crowds follow the lead - they no longer appreciate sportsmanship or gentlemanly conduct. Winning is all. The famous (or infamous) bodyline test series of the 1930's was a series that questioned the soul of cricket and how it should be played. It would not even get a mention today.

No, sport has changed in so many ways – players, crowds, expectations, rewards and behaviour. I thought about this when reading of Mr Rooney’s latest outburst – his expletives into the camera when he scored his hat trick at the weekend. There are all sorts of views on this – we have to expect it because players are so wound up, cameras shouldn’t be put in the face of sportsmen (somehow this is twisted into blaming the cameraman – the logic of that escapes me), aggression is part of modern sport and sportsmen and women would not be so good without it. Hmm! – I’m  not sure I can accept any of those.

Bradman is welcomed by English supporters
at the Oval - don't see this happening
in today's great arenas

The comment yesterday by Spurs manager Harry Redknapp was exactly right. Redknapp said of Rooney's expletive filled hat trick 'celebration'  "I don't know why he did that. I don't remember Bobby Charlton doing that when he used to smack goals into the top corner from 35 yards. Why do these young players have to be so angry with the world? I don't know why. They are getting hundreds of thousands of pounds a week." 

I recently watched a TV programme about the German keeper Bert Trautmann who famously broke his neck in the 1956 FA Cup Final.  The old black and white films of the huge crowds that flocked to grounds in those days – Main Road packed with 50 and 60 plus thousand week after week – was a nostalgic trip.

I remembered that I had stood there on many occasions in that era and, after the game, climbed into my Uncle Ken’s car for the trip home to Preston. My uncle had a bit of cash – the only member of our family to own a car -  and by the time the late fifties came  he owned a rusting 2.4 Jag.  As I climbed in it outside places like Main Road I felt like a king! As we sat on the car park waiting to get away from the ground – Main Road, Burnden Park, Anfield, Old Trafford, Elland Road, Hillsborough  and the like, wherever Preston were playing – 5 o’clock would approach and my Uncle would turn on the radio. A car with a  radio – boy was I moving in the top circles – and we would listen to the strains of the 'Sports Report' theme music. Even today, over half a century later, at 5 o’clock every Saturday afternoon as I hear the 'Sports Report' tune - whether I am sitting at home, driving  or whatever, I am transported back to those far off days. I can hear the purr of the Jag engine, I can smell the leather upholstery, I can taste the flask of coffee left in the car for after the game. I can see the flat capped supporters pressing against the side of the car as they made their way home – still waving their scarves or spinning their rattles.  These great, good natured crowds were non-threatening, friendly  and mature.

Bradman on his way to his record score

I  remember too, in 1962, going to night school on February 20th.  When I got there  everyone, including the teacher, had gone  to Deepdale to see the FA Cup replay with Shankley’s Liverpool. I ran through the streets and arrived about 10 minutes after the kick off. The gates were closed, I had no ticket  and I stood listening to the roaring 37,825 crowd.  Then, some nearby double gates burst open and stewards good humouredly  escorted fifty or sixty of fans out and shepherded them to another area of the ground where there was more space. I didn’t waste a second. I slipped in, squeezed through the crush and clambered up the floodlight! I've often thought of contacting the club and telling them (and the FA) that they had the attendance wrong - it was 37,826 - I sneaked in without  a ticket! This was Shankley’s first great team and the game ended in a 0-0 draw.  I was at neutral Old Trafford a week later  with 61,539 others to see PNE beat Liverpool and progress into the next round against United. A 0-0 draw against United at Deepdale  was followed by a 2-1 trouncing at Old Trafford in front of another 63,351 fans. I  was disappointed with the result but exhilarated to see the great post-Munich  side of Charlton, Herd, Quixall, Foulkes, Setters Cantwell and Giles.

Finney speaking after his last game -
and I'm on there - standing with my friends in the middle
of the very back row at the top of the picture!

 The crowds stood, squashed together and swayed back and forth as the game ebbed and flowed.  They were good natured and infinitely better behaved and more responsible. Supporters might wear their club scarf – I had a knitted woolly blue and white striped hat made by my mum – but generally wore their everyday working clothes.  So much less intimidating than today’s crowds where segregation, separate turnstiles, armies of 'blokes', who Peter Pan like, refuse to grow up and want to wear their replica shirt embossed with the name of their hero like so many overgrown schoolboys. These are the order of the day.   Today CCTV monitors the crowd’s every movement, everyone is supposed to sit down – partly for safety – but, as the police will tell, you this is more to do with the ease of controlling people.

   

 The aggressive atmosphere that permeates today’s games, when Ferguson rages, Rooney screams expletives and crowds bay for blood, as if they were watching gladiators at some Roman amphitheatre, is a long, long way from the on and off field sportsmanship of years ago.  Rooney’s aggression  is what makes him  a great player we are told – and I think back to those far off days and wonder if that is so?

There have always been hard men –  the late Bill Brindley, always said of his days at Nottingham Forest and Notts County, 'I was never a great player I just stopped great players playing' – Chopper Harris, Nobby Stiles, Norman Hunter – the difference was that they knew what they were doing. It was part of the game plan. Rooney and his ilk are different – it is uncontrolled – they are violent, immature people. And I look back and wonder, does Rooney’s aggression really make him a better player than Giggs, Charlton, Greaves, Pele, Lineker, Eusabio, Best, Duncan Edwards, Law, Beckenbauer, Moore, Finney, Matthews, Cruyff etc.  or is it that, like the playground bully, the aggression and uncontrolled temper is a substitute for his playing, intellectual and personal deficiencies.


I often wonder if we will ever see the likes of players like the great Eusabio again. The greatest Portuguese footballer and a man still today often voted as the 'fairest' player in the world. Humble in the extreme and from very poor origins he stood only 5ft 9 inches tall. At the height of his career playing for Benfica the crowd were chanting his name. After the game he said "When I first heard the whole Stadium chanting my name I honestly felt dizzy" - no expletives there! This was the man who on his second game for his team as an 18 year old  single-handedly almost won the game for them. Four nil down at half time he was brought on as substitute and scored a hat trick - he had scored a hat trick in his first game too! The game ended in a 6-4 defeat for Benfica but then the opposition was the great Brazilian team Santos captained by Pele! It puts Rooney's hat trick 'celebrations' against West Ham, a team who have struggled all season, into perspective! But my favourite story of Eusabio is one I can remember seeing. The 1969 European Cup Final at Wembley between Benfica and Manchester United. With the scores 1–1  he came close to winning the game for Benfica in the dying seconds of the game. He broke through the United defence and unleashed one of his famous drives -  he was noted as one of the hardest hitters of the ball in the world. Amazingly, his shot was foiled by a spectacular  Alex Stepney save. As Stepney lay on the ground clutching the ball, Eusabio stood and applauded and as the keeper stood up shook his hand to acknowledge the great save. That's sportsmanship - and I don't see it being Mr Rooney's reaction - nor sadly do I see it being Mr Ferguson's reaction either. After the game, when United had won, there were no moans and recriminations from Eusabio. No regrets about the save - just a sporting 'well done' to United and 'you were the best team'.  We have lost something in recent years.

Alex Ferguson’s managerial rants, Andy Murray's on and off the court expletives,  Serena Wiiliams’ grunting power play, 'bash it and crash it' cricket, Ashley Cole's increasingly unpredictable behaviour, Rooney’s on the field violence and abuse and his off the field life style choices - and the rest - mean that the sportsmanship,  grace, intelligence, discipline and skill of sport is at a nadir and sadly, the end result is that their  actions provoke and influence. It makes violence, foul language and aggression part of the expectation at big games – it is not only a bad model for youngsters but it also makes crowds the intimidating beasts that they have become. I wonder what fond memories today’s youngsters will have – Rooney’s scowls and four letter words, vicious tackles, abuse of referees, complaining managers, policemen with batons and CCTV to control the crowds.

Finney's 'splash' remembered today
at Deepdale

Such a long way from Main Road all those years ago as I sat looking through the window of the Jag and waved and smiled at the City supporters who waved and smiled back – whatever the result.  And such a long way from the days of Finney and Bradman. And when I think of Harry Redknapp's comment questioning why current stars are 'so angry' - when they 'earn hundreds of thousands of pounds a week' and are idolised by millions I know there is something profoundly wrong with sport, football and indeed society.Our sporting heroes have changed - they are now idols not heroes, mindlessly idolised for the glamour and life style, sensationalism and competitive athleticism not their charm or grace or skill.  The people that I have written about in this blog - Finney, Bradman, Eusabio, Lofthouse, Trautmann etc. all came from very difficult backgrounds - poor in the real sense of the word, humble, an ex-POW in a foreign country, a coal miner and the like - but their background or their fame didn't make them angry or vicious or violent - it helped to make them better players and  mature, thinking people.  What would the great sports writer and journalist Alistair Cooke write today? Over seventy years  ago he wrote of the golfer Bobby Jones: "What we talk about here is not the hero as sportsman, but that something which a civilised community hungered for and found: the best performer in the world who was also hero as human being, the gentle, wholly self-sufficient male". People like Jones, Charlton, Moore, Finney, Eusabio, Trautmann, Bradman, Miller - and today Giggs - were similar, true heroes. They were, first and foremost, men who displayed personal qualities to applaud and to  inspire and for us lesser mortals to emulate. And these qualities were epitomised in their style of play and the way they conducted themselves on the field of play.   They were sportsmen who showed us the best in human nature and endeavour, they were men  to aspire to as people and who inspired us to the best - not the charmless, graceless individuals that day after day make the headlines for the wrong reasons.   

Happy birthday Tom – and thanks for the good memories.