The BIG Match

I’d been seething with excitement all week, well who wouldn’t be? If your Dad had promised to take you to “The Big Match” on Saturday wouldn’t you be excited? Of course you would! Just like me. That week I even felt different, important somehow. I told all my friends at school, some of them were going too and felt just the same as I did. We formed a sort of group to discuss the game every playtime and felt rather sorry for those who were not going. They felt very left out. There were some that said they had no interest in the game and so were considered by the rest of us as unimportant. We assumed they simply didn’t understand the game, would probably grow up to be Chelsea supporters or something equally dreadful. School itself that week was a complete irrelevance and I suspect even our teachers knew it.

It was early in nineteen forty three, Arsenal looked like winning everything there was to win that year and I was ten years old. War had been raging for four years and our part of London had been devastated. We had been “Bombed out” six times and life was very difficult. Nobody had much money so to be taken to see a real, professional football match was something very special. To be taken to see “The Big Match” was the ultimate treat. You never knew just who would be playing.

Many of Arsenal’s star players were of course, away in the army so most teams had long lists of “Guest Players”. They were players who just happened to be in London for that particular weekend and were available to play for any team that needed them. It often provided the opportunity to see a famous player in a team other than the one he usually played for. This weekend, it was rumoured, we would probably have our full team out, so would the opposition. Even the army wouldn’t dare to spoil this game.

The stadium at Highbury had been bombed, not badly, but enough to make the authorities consider it unsafe to take the vast crowds that went there every time there was a home match. It was used for most of the war as an A.R.P. centre and the manager George Allison is said to have had the referee’s room converted into a flat there. It didn’t seem to occur to the supporters that the huge crowd itself made it a potential target, the possibility of many casualties must have been obvious.

The supporters of course hardly gave the air raids a second thought on Saturdays. If the buses were running at all they would be running late....so we walked. The trains wouldn’t be running at all.......so we’d go to another stadium and watch another match. No question of not going to watch some form of football on Saturday afternoons. That would have meant that they had won and we weren’t having any of that! There would not be an air raid this particular Saturday afternoon though, everyone was confident of that. Even Hitler wasn’t stupid enough to disrupt this match!

In order that the league could carry on it was not unusual for teams to share their grounds with other clubs as well as their players. Surely the most extraordinary gesture was made by Tottenham Hotspur, who wonder of wonders, offered the use of their ground to Arsenal on alternate Saturdays. We always said they did it so that they could watch our team practice and so learn how to play the game. “The Big Match” was when they played each other. On those occasions White Hart Lane was no place for faint hearts, the noise would be deafening, the crush of people frightening. Air Raids? who cared about them? This was a real war

My Father was a keen player and a good one too, played inside right for a local team. He turned out every Saturday morning or, just as often, on Sunday morning. He flatly refused to play on Saturday afternoons because it would mean missing Arsenal play and if he could afford to go that week nothing on earth would stop him. I don’t know why he suddenly decided to take me with him to the “Big One” I didn’t ask in case he changed his mind. I just gratefully grabbed the opportunity and bubbling with excitement discussed it all week long with everyone I met. Arsenal would win, of course, I had no doubt about that.

That Saturday in mid-February will remain in my memory forever. It was as cold as it usually is at that time and the buses weren’t running (as expected) for some reason no one knew so we decided to walk the four and a half miles to White Hart Lane. We would all cheerfully have walked to China to see this particular match. The rumours were very strong Eddie Hapgood, Ted Drake, Cliff Bastin George Male and all the other famous names would be playing. Had they all turned out the team would have had about two-dozen players that afternoon! Poor old ‘Spurs! they had no chance now. It seemed to have escaped everyone’s notice that most of the players expected that day had either retired or were away on active service. Still it was wartime and you never know what to expect in those circumstances.

I felt very grown up as we walked down Stamford Hill towards Tottenham with the crowd thickening around us. By the time we reached Bruce Grove where the road narrows, the pavements were so crowded that we had to walk in the road and such traffic as there was went into single lines, very slowly, down the centre of the road. Outside the ground the noise and crush of people was really quite frightening. My Dad told me to walk with my arms by my side and keep close to him, he put his arms over my shoulders to stop the pressure becoming too great in front. I felt quite safe like that but not quite so grown up. Eventually we got to the spinning barriers where they sold the tickets, no one pre-booked in those days for obvious reasons. Then we were through into the ground. He even brought me a programme, which I treasured for years afterwards. I remember reading that “It was possible that the teams as shown may be changed due to circumstances beyond the control of the management.”

We wriggled our way to the front of the stand and though I couldn’t see over the top of the railings on to the pitch I could see very well through them and from my low vantage point almost felt as if I was on the pitch with the players. The excitement as the players came out onto the pitch was tremendous. Those wonderful red and white shirts that made those wearing them look so strong and solid. The white shorts that these days wouldn’t be regarded as shorts. The red and white socks that made their legs look like tree trunks because of the heavy shin pads inside them and the great heavy boots. All combined to make the players look like heroes prepared to do or die! Even the Spurs players looked impressive!

Everyone briefly consulted their programmes and then turned to discuss the team with the man next to him. Who was playing? Could you recognise the players? Were there any ‘Guests’? Had you got a pencil to make a note of the alterations? The public address system began blaring out the changes to the teams……no one could understand a word of what was said but the word went round that this player or that on either side had made a last minute dash to be able to play in this the most important match of the season. I didn’t have a pencil so the man standing next to me loaned me his. The noise was deafening as they lined up to begin the game…..Game? This was so much more than just a game!

The referee looked briefly at his watch and nodded to the centre forward who was standing with his right foot on the ball blowing into his cupped hands to keep them warm. Even from where I was standing the ball looked more like a cannon ball than a football. Almost black and glistening with freshly applied Dubbin it looked for all the world as if only a giant would be able to move it. The Giant at centre forward kicked off and the crowd surged forward, the movement threatening to lift you off your feet. How did the referee manage to keep so calm?

What a game it was, in my eyes all the players were stars and their names still ring down the years when those of us who saw them play, meet and discuss ‘Old Times’. How well they played, they are still the benchmarks that modern players are measured by. Dad and I cheered ourselves hoarse urging on The Gunners. We were surrounded by Spurs supporters and exchanged heated comments with them every time the game stopped for whatever reason. There was no question of violence though, it never occurred to any one to start a fight. As far as Arsenal supporters are concerned the followers of The Spurs have a big enough problem with their team without us adding to it. They probably thought the same about us.

It was a terrific game, the skill and dedication of all the players on both sides obvious for all to see and marvel at. And the goalkeepers……their bravery impressed me more than I can say. They seemed to be completely fearless. Arsenal won of course 1-0 Dad said we would have scored a hatful if we’d had our full team out but it was a fair result on the day. In any case, as he said, the result wasn’t what was important, we had been there…..that’s what was important. The result was important though because that result and the others before and after enabled Arsenal to go on and win the Football League South that year.

In nineteen seventy-three I took my ten-year-old son to White Hart Lane to see Arsenal play Tottenham Hotspur. We travelled by car, parked it in the reserved space and having pre-booked, went into the stadium through the electronic gate to our seats high up in the stand. How times change. I pointed out to him the spot where his Grandfather and I had stood thirty years before. It wouldn’t be there much longer now because they were going to build a new stand in the close season and it would be covered over and be all seats. Most of the grounds are now seating only and everything is so different I don’t think Dad would have liked it very much. Sitting down is more comfortable it must be admitted but it’s not nearly as much fun. They’ve done the same at Highbury, with more class and style of course, but most of us who remember would prefer to stand on the terraces of the North Bank. The pushing and shoving of the crowd was part of the scene then but it’s not “Modern” what ever that has to do with anything!

My Son enjoyed the day even though Arsenal lost 2-0. He had the chance to see and admire some of the new Arsenal stars. Perhaps he’ll remember them with the same affection as I have for those of my day. Still it was a great day for us both. We lost our voices and came home feeling tired and full up with peanuts, hamburgers and fizzy drinks. I wonder if he’ll take his son or daughter to see Arsenal play? I do hope so, it’s so important to educate children properly.

ENDS.