Football Crazy!

 

The Sunday Times Magazine included an extract from David Kynaston's book Deep into the Sixties: Britain 1965-66. I believe this is the seventh in his series of books (Tales of New Jerusalem) that chronicles life in Britain from the end of the Second World War. He raids memoirs, newspapers, and diaries to recall key moments in British life. These four pages concentrate on one day, Saturday, 30th July 1966, when England won the World Cup. 

He starts with some predictions from various newspapers and then the coverage of the game on TV. There is a selection of what people were doing on the day. "At 2.48pm a sharp burst of rain at Hampstead Cricket Club has the players gratefully racing for the pavilion and the TV there." He includes who is not watching: "Dennis Law (Scottish football legend) opts to play golf. "And Max Wall is starting his matinee performance of Ubu Roi." While "Sir Stanley Mathews in hospital recovering from an operation falls asleep." 

As for the match, Kenneth Wolstenholme for the BBC describes the "torrential rain as England start the second half." (I was undercover in the top tier behind that controversial goal). I was amazed that only fifteen minutes after the final whistle, the next programme on the BBC starts: Juke Box Jury. Then all the regular Saturday evening programmes. 

"On a busy evening, the police find time to arrest the gangster Charlie Richardson and his accomplices some four months after the murder of their associate George Cornell by Ronnie Kray at the Blind Beggar pub in Whitechapell". But people found it difficult to get inside any pub for a celebration drink. (I went down to the Royal Garden Hotel, but the team had already been out on the balcony). We hear lots about what was happening in London, Union Jacks everywhere on the streets. 

There were highlights of the match on BBC at 10.20pm. There is so much more about what people were doing on the day, but I must include the final paragraph. The Kinks were due to be playing at an outdoor event at Pinhoe in Devon. "But having delayed leaving London until after the afternoon's drama is over, they fail to arrive until 11.45pm, two hours late. The show has to end at midnight, so they play for just ten minutes to a visibly angry crowd of some 6000, booing them loudly."  

The author was fifteen. I was twenty-one.

Dear David (if I may). Many apologies for such a delayed response, but I did want to drop a line to say that I much enjoyed reading ‘The Lost Tickets.'

And of course, I envy you being there!

Best wishes,

David (Kynaston)