Читать книгу Bill Nicholson - Brian Scovell - Страница 15

Between 1949 and 1955, Arthur Rowe introduced a way of playing the game that transformed Tottenham into a championship side and was also copied by clubs around the world. It was called ‘push and run’. Peter Barnes, secretary of Tottenham between 1982 and 2000, observed: ‘Arsenal play that way today. They are the only club who use it and I still think they are the best footballing side in the Premiership. I love watching them.’

It came from the streets. Rowe learned his football kicking small balls against walls and kerbs and Bill Nicholson did the same, as did Alf Ramsey. Using a wall to collect a ‘pass’ became an essential part of coaching under Walter Winterbottom, although these days the tactic is rarely used, but it is a difficult art to defend against because of the speed with which it is executed. In 1949, when Ramsey was introduced to the players by his new manager Rowe gave him number 12 locker, next to Bill.

The award-winning writer Leo McKinstry, author of Sir Alf, claimed the two men had an awkward relationship and in his autobiography, Bill said: ‘He would have been a fine player in any era. As a person, he was not an outward going type. He had a history in the East End, we were led to believe, and no one asked him about it. He was eager to acquire knowledge and you had the impression he was storing it up for when he became a manager. He wasn’t the type to share it.’

Ramsey’s ‘history’ concerned the rumour – which he always strenuously denied – that he came from gypsy stock and was ashamed of his background, so he took elocution lessons.

One of the last ‘tennis ball players’ famous for his wall passing was Trevor Brooking and in his autobiography, he said: ‘I used to run along the pavement kicking a tennis ball against the garden fences, controlling the rebound. Time and time I would repeat this and I think this early training may account for why I was looked on as a fairly skilful player. I also worked on kicking with both feet.’

No one knows for sure who first used the ‘wall’ pass, which has since gone into football manuals as part of the game, but Arthur Rowe took it to a higher level. He didn’t like the phrase ‘push and run’: ‘That was the label they came to pin on our style although, quite honestly, I was never fond of it. You often saw something like our style happening in a match, a side suddenly stringing together short, quick passes and players moving intelligently to give and take them. It is as if the game suddenly got an electric shock. The thing about the Tottenham side I had was that we tried to make it happen all the time. I never told anybody how to play. I just made suggestions on playing patterns, put up ideas. I’d ask players if they had ever tried a certain move, talk it over with them, get them to talk about it themselves, then we would try it out.’

Ramsey was encouraged not to over-use his longer passes down the right and fit in with the team pattern, with Bill Nicholson covering in front of him. The longer the pass, the more likely the ball would go astray, said Rowe. Short passes tend to be more accurate. Eddie Baily, chief joker of the team, recalled: ‘Arthur had arrived at a club of natural footballers. He didn’t come in with some great system and tell us exactly what to do. He encouraged us in certain directions, got us thinking, trying things and then, when it all came together, he would say, “That’s it, that’s the way to play.” Rowe was always using phrases like “make it simple, make it quick”. He would leave notes in the dressing room about his team and how they should get maximum results from these tactics.’

Later, when Bill became manager, he copied these mini-slogans to show them to his players. ‘You have to keep reminding players what they should be doing because few of them are capable of acting instinctively,’ he said, rather critically. Another weakness of the professional player is that often they will forget their instructions in the tense minutes before kick-off. A short, snappy phrase is much more useful than a speech.

According to Bill, Eddie Baily was Alf Ramsey’s closest friend, despite being opposites. ‘They shared a room on away trips and got on well,’ he recalled. ‘Eddie was the best first-time passer of a ball I ever saw. He was a quick-witted character and I remember one match against Huddersfield in the 1951/2 season, he drove the ball against the referee from a corner, collected the rebound and chipped to the near post, where Len Duquemin headed in a goal which condemned Huddersfield to the Second Division.

‘The referee allowed the goal but Huddersfield claimed, quite rightly, that Law 17 says a player cannot touch the ball after taking a corner kick until another player has touched it. I said to our players: “There’s nothing we can do. It’s the ref’s decision, not ours.” In professional football you don’t own up as a fielder does when he admits that a “catch” hit the ground before it was completed. One day you can be on the receiving end.’

Rowe considered Eddie Baily one of the finest one-touch players he had ever seen. ‘I never saw a man who could play the moving ball either way and with either foot as quickly or as accurately,’ he said. ‘One-touch play is like hitting the highest notes in music: it cuts out the marker and enables the receiver to have extra time for his next move.’

Playing push and run meant that Tottenham nearly always had the ball more than their opponents, and seeing it zipping everywhere in tight triangles tired their opponents more than themselves. ‘It demanded maximum fitness because it was not possible to play that way unless all ten of the outfield players were 100 per cent,’ explained Bill. ‘In the 1949/50 season, when we were promoted with 61 points, we only used 13 players and we were lucky as regards injuries. I believe good players are injured far less than average or poor players. If they are playing in a good side, there is a continuity about the play and they are supported to the hilt by their colleagues – they are not left to struggle on their own. There is always someone to pass to and Liverpool used to play like that in their title championship seasons.’

Ted Ditchburn had to change his way of distributing the ball. Asked why he kept throwing the ball out (which was unusual in that era) instead of kicking it, he admitted: ‘It suits me because I’m such an awful kicker of it.’

Phil Soar, in his admirable history of Tottenham, And The Spurs Go Marching On, wrote: ‘Rowe’s push and run swept Spurs to the top and they stayed there almost the rest of the season. Nobody could have bargained for such a dramatic impact in the new manager’s first season. Ronnie Burgess and his boys powered away on an unstoppable run from the 2-0 defeat at Plymouth on August 31 until Leeds halted them on January 14, an unbeaten sequence of 22 League matches. It meant from the beginning of September until the season closed on May 6, they stood astride the Second Division.’

Indeed, they won 27 games, eight more than any other club and ended with nine points ahead of Sheffield Wednesday.

Ditchburn and centre half Harry Clarke didn’t miss a game and at the end of one victory, Harry complained to Bill: ‘I only touched the ball nine times – I didn’t get a kick or a header. You’re mopping everything up on one side and Ron Burgess on the other.’ When he was manager, Bill always wanted a very tall defender – Clarke was 6ft 3in – and Maurice Norman was his first and later, Mike England. ‘It is imperative to have one like that,’ he observed. ‘Some critics complain when they see the ball chipped into the box and say it is boring, repetitive and unproductive. I think we don’t see enough of it. An accurate chipped pass is the most effective means of finding a way through a crowded area and one of the faults in the game is that there are few wingers. We had Sonny Walters on the right and Les Medley, who only played 150 games in six years before he went to Canada, on the left. He could beat opponents in great style and put over inch-perfect crosses. He was much quicker than he looked and his specialty was to appear suddenly in the inside right position, shout for the ball and thunder it into the back of the net. Few players can do it. In post-war football there was no one capable of surpassing the pinpoint accuracy of John White.’

Born in Edmonton, Medley was the top scorer, converting 18 of the 81 goals Tottenham scored. When he shot, it was with bullet-like ferocity – ‘Cec Poynton, our trainer, used to say, “I never saw him. Where did he come from?”’ The amateur George Robb took over, but he wasn’t as quick and he too had knee trouble. Bill considered his inside forward Les Bennett to be the exception to the rule about push and run: ‘He liked to hold the ball and run with it. He shaped to pass and then dummy his opponent, and he had what all midfield players need: stamina. Though he gave the impression of not tearing about, he was always on the move.’

Unlike some of their successors, few of Burgess’s players were heavy drinkers. ‘They drank a pint or a lager, but weren’t big drinkers,’ said Bill. ‘But some of them were heavy smokers – Les Bennett, Arthur Willis, Ted Ditchburn, Sonny Walters, among others. Later, there was hardly a single smoker left in the squad. They were more health conscious.’ In that period, Bill was earning £8 a week. ‘We didn’t worry about money,’ he continued. ‘You were in the team: that was enough. Like most of groups of young men, we liked a laugh and a joke and practical jokes were common.’ Good-quality winning football attracts spectators and Tottenham averaged 54,405 in the 1949/50 season: 3,024 more than Arsenal. They topped 50,000 in 15 matches and on 25 February, 70,305 watched the match against Southampton, which they won 4-0. The crowd was tightly packed, almost crushed in some parts, with most of them standing. Segregation hadn’t been heard of and boys, accompanied by their fathers, were handed over the heads of men ahead so they could see down at the front. It was rare to see any women.

‘Hooliganism, tribal fights and exchange of insults were practically non-existent. There was no thuggery in our game,’ recalled Rowe. ‘We did it in style, no jealousies, all pals together. The roar of the crowd keyed the players on and it was stimulating, enthralling entertainment.’ Around 1.5 million spectators turned up that season and that record has never been beaten.

The 1950/1 season started with a 1-4 defeat by Blackpool, but six successive wins put them on the way to winning their first championship of the First Division. There was an unusual happening on 9 November when half of the first team beat Cambridge University, coached by Bill Nicholson, 2-1; on the same day the other half drew 0-0 with Oxford University, whose coach was Vic Buckingham. The impression to be drawn was that University football was of a much higher standard then.

Nine days later, a full-strength Tottenham beat Newcastle, that season’s FA Cup winners, 7-0, with Medley and Baily scoring hat tricks. Rowe admitted: ‘When it was flowing like that, I would sit there transfixed. I was jealous for them, anxious that they should do justice to themselves. That was the only pressure, the rest was sheer pleasure.’

Seven of the players came from a short radius to White Hart Lane, a tribute to the excellence of the work of chief scout Ben Ives. The win bonus was just £2 and only two of the players, Ditchburn and Burgess, had cars. Rowe lived in Clapton and he was 34 before he owned a car. Often he caught a bus to Tottenham High Road and most times he had to stand. Fans would ask him about the prospects for another victory; also the likelihood of a Double. But there was no chance of a Double because they lost 2-0 to their bogey side, Huddersfield, in the third round of the FA Cup. Bill Nicholson played 41 out of the 42 matches, scoring one goal.

In those days Christmas was a busy time for footballers. On 23 December Rowe’s side beat Arsenal 1-0, then drew 1-1 at Derby on Christmas Day and on Boxing Day beat Derby 2-1. The championship was won in their 41st League match: a hard-earned 1-0 victory over Sheffield Wednesday who were relegated. Matt Busby’s Manchester side were runners-up, for the fourth time in five seasons.

In those days the players’ gear was much more conservative – no advertising, only a simple, small motif of the cockerel on a plain white shirt, long sleeves (usually rolled up), medium-length black shorts and the distinctive socks, almost half-white and the rest black. The tough leather boots and hard toecaps gave much more protection than modern footwear and all the players used white laces. There were rather small baths to wash in, hardly bigger than today’s Jacuzzis, and up to eight players squeezed into them. Arthur Rowe made some money from designing a new football boot – ‘The Arthur Rowe’ – and everyone was buying them.

Eddie Baily recalled how they trained in those days: ‘We hardly ever saw a football, but plenty of medicine balls to build our stomach muscles. We wore old sweaters to make us sweat and we did 18 or so laps, two laps running and two walking in succession, punched the punch balls and finished up skipping. Often we brought a ball ourselves and played 18-a-side matches by a pub. Bill was the first manager to use the football nearly all the time when he took over.’

Bill missed five League matches in the 1951/2 season and scored his usual one as Tottenham were pipped by Manchester United for the championship. He said it was a wet season and the White Hart Lane pitch resembled a morass for much of the winter. The directors decided to put in a new pitch and 3,500 tons of earth was taken away and dumped on Hackney Marshes. In its place 2,000 tons of new topsoil was put in, with 25,000 turfs laid on top.

But the pitch was never a good one until recent years, mainly because of the lack of circulating air through the absence of gaps in the corners. As the season ended, the club started a series of 12 friendlies, the first one held in Paris on 3 May and the final one on 18 June in Quebec. During the voyage, most of the players were seasick but Denis Uphill, one of the reserve players, recalled: ‘We travelled across the country by train and usually stayed in big log cabins. Canada was terrific, very different to post-war Britain, much more open.’

Despite the amount of travel, Bill thought the series was well worth it, but Rowe’s artists were losing their bloom: Bill made just 31 League appearances and failed to score his usual goal in the following season when the club finished tenth. At 33, he was thinking about a career as a manager.

In 1953/4, Tottenham ended sixteenth and Rowe brought in new players, some of them unable to play the type of football he required. He was harshly criticised for being too loyal to his older players, the strain was affecting his health and his doctor advised rest: he was heading for a breakdown. Jimmy Anderson, a former groundstaff boy who joined the club in 1908, but never made a senior appearance, became stand-in manager. He had filled most jobs, including secretary. Now 65, he celebrated 50 years with Tottenham. Bill explained: ‘I was asked to take over the coaching because Jimmy was more of a desk manager.’

Earlier in the season, Bill had told Rowe: ‘I’m not as fit as I used to be. Perhaps it is time you put someone else in my place.’ It was a remarkable thing to say. Hardly any player would volunteer to drop out – they all want to play as long as they can. ‘I felt it was an honest way of going about it,’ he revealed. ‘By speaking up, I was making it easier for him. As a manager later on, I had to leave many players out and it was not a pleasant task.’

In fact, Rowe was such a nervous man by this time that he didn’t like confronting players with bad news. Nicholson had helped him out and he was grateful.

At the end of the season Bill saw the club doctor about a sore knee and was referred to a specialist, who recommended ‘to remove some floating bodies’, as the dreaded phrase goes. Today’s specialists still say the same thing, except they have the equipment to do the work without cutting open the skin and leaving a scar.

Often the operations of 50 years ago went wrong, but Bill was lucky – although he had a scare in the close season while walking in Bridlington during his two-week summer holiday in North Yorkshire. ‘The knee suddenly seized up and I couldn’t move,’ he recalled. ‘I was taken to Scarborough Hospital, but the tests could find nothing wrong and I spent a month in hospital before discharging myself. Back at White Hart Lane, I walked on sticks for a while before full movement was restored.’

In all, he missed more than half the season and made just 10 appearances. Tottenham were still struggling, finishing in sixteenth place again. Burgess departed to Swansea, leaving a gap which couldn’t be filled.

Rowe once said that outstanding teams only stay on top for three years before they decline. That might well be true about Nicholson’s Double side too, which followed the same pattern. But with Rupert Murdoch’s billions poured into the bigger clubs since 1992, Manchester United, Liverpool and Chelsea are all set to stay ahead unless the banks foreclose on them.

With coaching taking up so much time, Bill retired as a player in the 1954/5 season: he had a record of 306 Football League appearances and just six goals. He would have passed 550 appearances and maybe he might have reached double figures with goals, but for six years serving his country. Eddie Baily said: ‘He was a very reliable player and when he started putting his boots on, we didn’t have any worries about him. We knew he wouldn’t let us down. I asked him, “Who was the player who gave you most trouble?” and he said, “Jimmy Logie of Arsenal. He used to turn me inside and out.”’

After months of recuperation, Rowe declared himself fit and resumed his managerial duties. He consulted Bill about buying a creative midfield player and was keen to sign Danny Blanchflower as his replacement. ‘Get him,’ advised Bill. ‘He’s a highly intelligent and skilful footballer.’

Though he had played his last senior game, Bill volunteered to play in the reserves and ‘A’ team to help the younger players – another unselfish act – and missed the FA Cup defeat at York at Bootham Crescent on 19 February when Spurs were humiliated 3-1 on a pitch covered in snow and ice. Blanchflower described it as the worst atmosphere he had experienced at a football club. The defeat affected Arthur Rowe so badly that he was sent home, suffering another breakdown. Jimmy Anderson, who always wore plus-fours (a way of tucking the trouser into the sock), was appointed manager.

I became a good contact of Arthur Rowe in his later life with Crystal Palace and he was a very kindly, cheery but sensitive man who loved talking about the game, encouraging young players and infusing them with his passion. He recovered and went on to become coach at West Bromwich Albion, and between 1958 and 1971 he took a number of posts at Crystal Palace, from manager to secretary. He had yet another breakdown in the 1962/3 season and briefly returned as manager in 1966. Well into his seventies, he was still acting as a consultant with Millwall.

During his last years he was showing signs of Alzheimer’s, the disease that seems to particularly affect ex-footballers after years of heading the heavy leather balls used in previous decades. Olaf Dixon, assistant chief executive of the League Managers’ Association, told a very sad story about him: ‘Chris Hassall, who was Crystal Palace’s secretary for many years, told me once that a police officer was crossing one of the bridges over the Thames in the middle of winter and saw an old man in a short-sleeved shirt and no jacket, and he asked, “Are you all right, sir? Can I help?” The old man said, “My old club is in trouble and I’ve got to see them and sort them out.” He was Arthur Roswe and he was talking about Tottenham.

‘The policeman made the arrangements to take him back to his residential home. Arthur’s wife couldn’t look after him and she lived some miles away and found it difficult to visit him by bus. The League Managers’ Association don’t have large reserves, but they have a fund to help out in these circumstances and we paid for her taxi visits until Arthur died at the age of 87.’