My football

The secret history
William Hill prizewinner Gary Imlach tells of the curiosity, indignation and family reticence that led him to discover the truth about his footballing father Sunday January 8, 2006Observer Sport Monthly
'I think I'm finished, don't tell Mum.'
Shortly after he was admitted to hospital with cancer I had what passed, by our standards, as a conversation with my father, Stuart, about his mortality. That's it, reproduced in full above; my contribution was a nod at the end of his seven words.
It was only after he died that all the other conversations I'd never really had with him began to ring in my head like unshakeable tinnitus. Nothing special about that. I think it's a fairly common symptom of grief after the loss of a parent.
The secret history
William Hill prizewinner Gary Imlach tells of the curiosity, indignation and family reticence that led him to discover the truth about his footballing father Sunday January 8, 2006Observer Sport Monthly
'I think I'm finished, don't tell Mum.'
Shortly after he was admitted to hospital with cancer I had what passed, by our standards, as a conversation with my father, Stuart, about his mortality. That's it, reproduced in full above; my contribution was a nod at the end of his seven words.
It was only after he died that all the other conversations I'd never really had with him began to ring in my head like unshakeable tinnitus. Nothing special about that. I think it's a fairly common symptom of grief after the loss of a parent.


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But the answers to the unasked questions, I realised, would be special. My father had been man of the match for Nottingham Forest in the 1959 FA Cup final. He'd represented Scotland at the 1958 World Cup. My brothers and I had grown up with these facts and their supporting evidence: his winner's medal, the scrapbooks in the attic. Blinded by the highlights, we had let them stand in for his whole career.
The truth was much more interesting. The bulk of my father's 423 league and cup games had been played in the final decade of the maximum wage, under the feudal yoke of the old retain-and-transfer system. He had been bought and sold against his will and without his knowledge - once by two club chairmen in a hotel bar as he slept upstairs after an away game.
Camped at the British Newspaper Library reading through his life as it was reported, or sitting with old team-mates filling in the details the match accounts didn't cover, I saw that there were two stories to tell. My penitential journey to reconstruct my dad's career was a personal one. But because players then were all in the same slave boat his story was also that of his whole generation.
Viewed from the summit of today's cash mountain it seems as remote as life during wartime: tied housing; second jobs after training and in the off-season when wages withered to a summer retainer; players traded like livestock. My father's World Cup ID card gave him free entrance to other group games in Sweden - on the terraces, with the rest of the working class. The pre-game dilemma for Forest's '59 Cup final team was where to leave their false teeth so that they could be quickly retrieved at the final whistle for the walk up to the royal box to meet the Queen.
I was indignant on his behalf to discover just how bad the good old days had been in many respects. But it struck me, too, that his era was the last time footballers and fans were truly the same people, leading fundamentally the same lives in the same communities. Murdoch's millions might not have arrived until the Nineties, but the initial fork in the road for the players and the people who watched them came in 1961, when the threatened strike by the Professional Footballers' Association led to the abolition of the maximum wage.
That prompted me to explore my own loss of the passion for football that I'd inherited from him. When I started work on the idea for this book, in 2003, the Premiership universe still seemed to be growing exponentially and I felt alone with the guilty secret that I couldn't care less about it. It was as though I'd mislaid a family heirloom. By the time the book came out in September last year it was riding a wave of generalised disaffection with top-flight football; most of the letters I've had are from fans whose faith is lapsing. I'm gratified - on my dad's behalf as much as my own - that the story seems to have resonated so widely.
Still, it's a personal book not a polemic; I'm not trying to cast myself as the Robert Kilroy-Silk of the Football Backlash Party. For one thing, I couldn't afford the suits. What I hope is that the publicity surrounding my book might still persuade the Scottish FA that my father deserves an international cap. The insular arrogance of the people who ran the game back then meant they were handed out only for Home Internationals, not World Cups. The evidence so far is that not much has changed at the SFA in half a century, but I'm still trying.
· My Father and Other Working-Class Football Heroes by Gary Imlach is published by Yellow Jersey at £15.99
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Drogba delights dashing Mourinho
Amy Lawrence at WembleySunday May 20, 2007The Observer

The Premiership's two most accomplished teams have already slugged it out for the best part of nine months for one piece of silver. This final quest was like a microcosm of the title race: long, exhausting and with very little in it.
Wembley yearned for a romantic homecoming, but the cast list promised more than it could deliver. The star names from England's most recent champions turned out to be a bit of a tease.
FA Cup final
Drogba delights dashing Mourinho
Amy Lawrence at WembleySunday May 20, 2007The Observer Didier Drogba scores for Chelsea. Photo:Tom Jenkins
The Premiership's two most accomplished teams have already slugged it out for the best part of nine months for one piece of silver. This final quest was like a microcosm of the title race: long, exhausting and with very little in it.
Wembley yearned for a romantic homecoming, but the cast list promised more than it could deliver. The star names from England's most recent champions turned out to be a bit of a tease.



After 116 minutes of uptight football, Chelsea delivered the FA Cup from the probability of being decided by its third consecutive penalty shootout. Didier Drogba, having lost out to Cristiano Ronaldo in the season's personal awards, despite an exceptional personal campaign, stole the glory with a typically brave example of the predator's arts. A shrewd one-two with Frank Lampard gave him a precious moment ahead of his marker Rio Ferdinand, and Drogba seized it to flick home his thirty-third successful strike of the season.
On the touchline Jose Mourinho re-enacted the manic dash he first showed Sir Alex Ferguson when the pair crossed swords in a Champions League match at Old Trafford in 2004. How he needed this victory. In fact, how Chelsea needed this. This club obsessed with winning by any means possible has a domestic Cup double to compensate, in some way, for the loss of the two prizes they value the most.
Mourinho's philosophy is for the means to justify the ends. 'As I said to the players at the beginning of the week, "Do you want to enjoy the game or do you want to enjoy after the game?'" That explains everything.
Evidently, the Chelsea players' response was pretty unanimous, and, after Mourinho had disappeared to make a quick celebratory call to his family (and, presumably, dog) in Portugal, the boss joined his boys on the pitch with a symbolic gesture for all to see. He held aloft five fingers and a thumb, one digit for each of the trophies he has won since he arrived in England (including the Charity Shield).
Amid the pomp and circumstance that accompanied this special occasion, a Wembley winner from each of the past finals dating back to 1957, represented by Peter McParland, paraded in the pre-match sunshine. It was a reflection of the contrasting FA Cup collections of yesterday's finalists that the United fans had many more heroes to cheer than their Chelsea counterparts. The Roman Abramovich era may have had a shuddering impact on English football in the last three years, but Chelsea have been forced to endure a reality check in recent weeks.
It encapsulated Chelsea's season that the two major signings from last summer designed to take the club to a higher plane, Andriy Shevchenko and Michael Ballack, were not involved. All has not gone to plan. It was something Mourinho was at pains to point out again afterwards as he recounted the injury list that has afflicted Chelsea's troubled campaign.
'Bring on the Champions,' chanted the contingent from Manchester as the teams emerged into an atmosphere brimming with all the fervour that was lacking when these two clubs met at Stamford Bridge for a dull dress rehearsal 10 days previously. This, both managers had promised, would be different.
As it turned out, it was so cagey there was the distinct possibility of a Mexican Wave breaking out to give the fans something to watch. Was the pitch too heavy? Was the occasion a little overwhelming? Ferguson was not impressed with the slow surface but admitted that the season's exertions had caught up with his team. 'We had two or three players who looked jaded, which was understandable considering it has been a tiring season with a lot of matches.' Cristiano Ronaldo, notably, was one of those he singled out as weary. The player of the year was conspicuously peripheral.
And so 20 minutes elapsed and neither of the best two teams in England had fashioned anything resembling a chance. Midway through the first half Drogba endeavoured to inject some sparkle into the affair when he picked up the ball just outside the centre circle, cantered forward and lashed a shot wide. The oohs from the crowd reflected the energy rather than the closeness of the move.
The Ivorian hitman generally struggled for support as his attacking accomplices, Shaun Wright-Phillips and Joe Cole, who lasted only a half, strained to get far enough up the field to link with him. It was only when Lampard ghosted up in support that Edwin van der Sar had cause for any concern.
As for United, whom Ferguson had warned of complacency following their lacklustre showing last weekend, spaces beyond Chelsea's rearguard action proved difficult to detect. In the first half Wayne Rooney was three times reeled in by the blue offside trap. Paul Scholes caught the eye with his imaginative passing, but United remained frustrated. Mourinho later sneered that they could have played for three hours and he had no fear that United would spear his defence.
Fortunately, a contest broke out after the break, largely inspired by the bulldozing presence of Rooney. He provoked a decent save from Petr Cech and threatened to lift events out of the ordinary with a barnstorming run the length of the pitch. Ryan Giggs picked up the baton to swing in a delicious shot from the left.
At last the final was alive and, in Paul Scholes's case, kicking, as he took a lump out of Lampard in a dangerous position on the corner of the penalty area. Drogba's free-kick clipped the outside edge of the post.
The first-half dirge was transformed into something resembling a spectacle, as Rooney, in particular, looked like a man on a mission. Not many are powerful enough to shrug off Michael Essien, but the 21-year-old did en route to an ambitious penalty claim when he was halted fairly by Cech inside the box.
Chelsea came on strong as normal time ebbed away, and United survived a couple of hairy moments thanks to Ferdinand's calm interceptions.
Extra time was predictably tense, yet not without chances. United looked odds on to score in the opening period of extra time when Rooney centred for the on-rushing Giggs.
The Welshman's sidefoot was saved by Cech, who was then bundled over the line, with the ball, by Giggs's momentum. United appealed in vain for everything - from a goal to a penalty - with Ferguson adamant that Essien had fouled Giggs in the build-up. The referee Steve Bennett was moved by neither call despite United's protest.
Drogba was even more irritated to squander a chance when he headed into the side netting. Nobody does a hard-done-by look quite like he does. Then again, nobody else has had the scoring habit quite like he has this season.
'Didier is fantastic and a top character and he works for the team all the time,' said Mourinho.
But the match-winner and top scorer's performance was not enough to earn top marks from his manager. Mourinho described the performance of John Obi Mikel as 'like a king'.
'You can't do much about it when it comes so late,' lamented Ferguson, who was denied a fourth domestic double with a late kick in the teeth.
'The players are too tired. I have seen it time and time again in football. The important thing is to accept it and get on with it. I'll wake up in the morning and get on with life.'

The two best teams in England but not much for the faithful to shout about
Paul WilsonSunday May 20, 2007The Observer
'The City of London is safe,' said Jose Mourinho, meaning the dog the police were so worried about last week is now back in Portugal. The Venue of Legends still needs updating, though. The furniture and fittings are all in place, but Cup finals like this one will not live long in the memory.
'I felt we could be here for three hours and they wouldn't score,' Mourinho said. 'Two or three of our players looked tired in the first half,' Sir Alex Ferguson offered in mitigation. 'It was a stalemate, but I had a feeling it might be. Chelsea never go gung-ho at anyone.'
FA Cup final
The two best teams in England but not much for the faithful to shout about
Paul WilsonSunday May 20, 2007The Observer
'The City of London is safe,' said Jose Mourinho, meaning the dog the police were so worried about last week is now back in Portugal. The Venue of Legends still needs updating, though. The furniture and fittings are all in place, but Cup finals like this one will not live long in the memory.
'I felt we could be here for three hours and they wouldn't score,' Mourinho said. 'Two or three of our players looked tired in the first half,' Sir Alex Ferguson offered in mitigation. 'It was a stalemate, but I had a feeling it might be. Chelsea never go gung-ho at anyone.'


In other words it was the biggest anticlimax since the last dream final. 'Can you hear Chelsea sing?' the Manchester United end enquired after 20 minutes. The answer was no, and, in point of fact, the United fans were not making much of a din either. The first quarter of the first FA Cup final at the new Wembley was eerily quiet, with a slow pitch contributing to some turgid football and big- match atmosphere conspicuous by its absence.
Say what you like about Cardiff, and plenty people have been, but Cup finals there generated plenty of noise. The new Wembley somehow managed to muffle the contribution of 90,000 spectators, either because fans were treating the state-of-the-art facility with too much respect or because until Didier Drogba sent a looping shot narrowly wide after 22 minutes, there was absolutely nothing to get excited about. This was odd, considering the two best teams in England were playing and the final not only featured the two main contenders for footballer of the year in Drogba and Cristiano Ronaldo, but other worthy candidates in Paul Scholes, Ryan Giggs and Michael Essien.
If Scholes was the busiest in the early stages, spraying passes around the pitch like a quarterback in his new role at the rear of midfield and frequently helping his defence, Drogba was the most visible, staying on his feet most of the time, but occasionally sailing through the air when fouled by Gabriel Heinze.
Drogba will always be visible - that's the nature of his game. He's big and available, carries the attack on his own and provides an invaluable outlet when Chelsea want to move the ball up the pitch. He had a chance as early as the third minute, but was unable to make the desired contact with Wayne Bridge's inviting cross due to Heinze backing into him.
Referee Steve Bennett let that go, and, rather more surprisingly, let off Joe Cole with just a verbal warning when he took Wes Brown's legs from under him with a reckless two-footed tackle. People have been sent off for less and by any criterion Cole's foul warranted a caution, yet a referee with a reputation for going by the book seemed reluctant to spoil such a momentous occasion with any actual bookings. Heinze got away with fouls on Shaun Wright-Phillips and another one on Drogba and the cards stayed in the Bennett pocket even when Scholes clattered Wright-Phillips just before the interval with his usual mistimed apology for a tackle.
'Steve Bennett is a manufactured referee, he's black and white. He knows all the rules, but doesn't know the game.' That was what Neil Warnock had to say about the Cup final referee in February after he awarded two soft penalties to Liverpool in a 4-0 defeat at Anfield. Steven Gerrard won them, Robbie Fowler converted them, and no one paid much attention to Warnock's gripe at the time because the outcome of the game was never in doubt.
Now the Blades have been relegated by the margin of a single goal, however, it could be argued Bennett's generosity cost them dear.
Then again, when Manchester United won 2-1 at Bramall Lane in November, Ronaldo was guilty of one of the misses of the season so perhaps generosity works both ways.
Bennett's own generosity ran out just before the hour, when Scholes was, quite rightly, booked for kicking Frank Lampard. Bennett's ambition to show leniency and keep everyone on the pitch was a laudable one, though United's red menace would test anyone's patience.
Ronaldo was the Cup final's big let down. He didn't play badly, he just failed to seize the stage or give the sort of bravura performance expected of someone who has just swept up the season's individual awards. He was so far from his usual self in the first half as to be almost anonymous. No runs, no tricks, no dives and a bare minimum of stepovers. It was as if, like Bennett, he didn't want to be the centre of attention. He clearly had the beating of Paulo Ferreira but rarely took him on. He whistled past him once in the first half, only to show too much of the ball to Essien when shaping for a shot. He went past his man again in the second half, after Wayne Rooney had brought United to life with a 50-yard run, and ended up crossing to no one in particular.
When he won a free-kick for handball from Claude Makelele in the 65th minute, he shot tamely into the wall even as the United fans were singing his ability to bend it both ways. The stepovers that bamboozled Bridge two minutes from time were followed by an almost apologetic shot into the side-netting, when Wembley immortality was in reach.
Extra time brought a controversy that wasn't when Giggs bundled Petr Cech, and the ball, over the line after the goalkeeper had made a save. Things have changed since Nat Lofthouse and, as Cech was lying on the floor, it was never going to be given as a goal. United might have been better objecting to Essien's foul on Giggs. Their protests only reflected the frustration they felt at not scoring cleanly in the first place once Arjen Robben had exposed his defence by giving the ball away.
They paid the penalty four minutes from the end, sparing the magnificent new Wembley the indignity of more penalties, though Drogba's winner was nothing special by his standards, let alone the stadium's. His one-two with Lampard was sharp enough, which is more than can be said for Edwin van der Sar's reactions in leaving his line. But even if the ball only crept into the net Drogba, like Chelsea, deserved something at the end of this season.
It was no real surprise that two strong teams effectively cancelled each other out - Cup finals sometimes go like that - though it was a pity none of the individuals on the pitch managed to stamp their personality on the occasion. Not even the managers. Ferguson accused Mourinho of successfully getting to Bennett with his pre-match comments - 'His tactics might have worked. I was very disappointed in the referee today' - before exasperation set in with a question about his floral buttonhole. 'I'm talking about the referee and you want to know about my carnation [in fact, a rose]?' he replied. 'Can I escape now?'
There were some famous names presented to the crowd before the game, but this new venue still awaits new legends to call its own.