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SIR STANLEY MATTHEWS There's an old saying that goes, "Nostalgia isn't what it used to be." Very true that one and it applies equally to sportsmen, pop singers and film stars, but is especially true of football and footballers. My father used to take me to Ashton Gate every Saturday throughout the late 50's and 60's to watch Bristol City and, looking back through my rose coloured spectacles, they were great days and there were some great players. But in reality, I don't suppose football was any better (or worse) then than it is now. With certain exceptions. And Stanley Matthews was one of those exceptions. Stanley Matthews was an exceptional player. Forget your Gazza's and Shearer's. Will we still be talking about Michael Owen or David Beckham in 50 years time? Somehow I doubt it. What the game seems to be lacking at the moment is any sort of hero or role model at all. Matthews played in an era when the game was often slow and hard but, incredibly, so much cleaner and sportsmanlike than it is nowadays. Yellow and red cards hadn't been introduced because, quite frankly, they weren't needed. Instead, on the rare occasions when admonishment was required, referees took players' names. Interesting to note that in all Sir Stanley's 33 year career his name was never taken once and he was never ever sent off. Quite a record for 710 league and 54 England appearances. Instead, he mesmerised fans and players alike with wonderful timing and supreme skill. He demonstrated amazing close control and had an unbelievable surge of speed. In so many of his games he was unstoppable and pity the poor defenders who had to try. He was a wizard with the ball and he was the star of just about every game he ever played – and remember he carried on playing until he was 50 years old (Brit's, you're still a youngster!). Defenders who played against him were told, time after time, to watch the ball and not the man. Easier said than done. Once the defender took his eye off the ball, he was beaten. Matthews had the uncanny ability to drop his left shoulder which had the effect of taking his body slightly to the left. Then, with consummate ease, he somehow managed to swerve to the right and past his opponent. Then he had two choices, either send over one of his crosses (he was a great crosser of the ball) or go all the way and score himself. What a pity for him that he played so much of his game in the days of the maximum wage. Perhaps Sir Stan himself would disagree with that statement as great players like him played solely for the love of the game. There was no televised football and no super-star status and so Matthews, along with Tom Finney, Nat Lofthouse, Billy Wright et al, made very little money other than a 20 quid a week maximum pay-packet. They didn't have agents, didn't model Gucci clothing, endorse crisps or even open supermarkets. It seems that rather than spend their energy on getting pissed in foreign bars, wrecking hotel rooms or missing training, they concentrated on the game. Life revolved around Saturday afternoons. It was the game, not the player's status that was all-important. On the morning of a match Matthews, who for much of his professional life travelled everywhere either on foot or by bus, used to put on a pair of extremely heavy old working boots and he would shuffle round for several hours with these great weights on his feet. Then, when 3 o'clock came, he would change into his favourite battered old football boots and then fly around as if weightless for the next hour and a half. Perhaps his most famous match was the FA Cup Final when he played for Blackpool against Bolton in 1953. Blackpool were 3 – 1 down with only 20 minutes to go. Then Matthews decided to change things. In what many now recognise as the greatest piece of footballing skill ever, he created all the chances for Stan Mortenson to score a hat-trick, making a final score of 4 – 3 to Blackpool. The game has been known ever since as The Matthews Final, although Sir Stan always declined this accolade saying that it was really Mortenson's Final. Is there anyone in the game today who demonstrates this degree of modesty? He played against Southend once, in January 1950 when Blackpool entertained the Essex side in the 3rd round of the FA Cup. Frank Walton had the unenviable task of marking Sir Stan but even when Jack French dropped back from mid-field to lend a hand, there was no stopping the Matthews magic. The Southend defence was run ragged and Blackpool went on to win the game 4 – 0. When Canvey hold a minutes silence on Saturday, there will be lots of youngsters in the crowd who won't even have heard of Sir Stanley Matthews. I wonder if they will ever be lucky enough to experience, in their footballing lifetimes, a gentleman of a player with even half his skill, magic or wizardry? Obituary by Merv.
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