On the 70th anniversary of North End's famous FA Cup Final triumph at Wembley, PNE.com is pleased to reproduce a first hand account of what it was like to be a part of the victorious side that afternoon, as featured exclusively in last Saturday's match programme against Ipswich Town.
The words are courtesy of full-back Andy Beattie, who reveals all the butterflies, nerves, and jangling emotions of playing on the domestic game's biggest stage, and our thanks go to Andy's daughter, Andrea, for releasing the information, and to Steve Cowell for his assistance is transcribing this vision of our Club's proud history...
It is every player's dream to play in a cup final at Wembley Stadium, but many of the greatest players in the game have never been fortunate enough to obtain this highest of football honours.
Everybody knows the excitement that attends a cup final - the tremendous crowd, the wide publicity afforded by the press, the favours worn by supporters, community singing, the radio reporting and commentating to millions of listeners in all parts of the world, and the great day graced by the King and Queen. Such a match is a very trying one for the players concerned; they have experienced many anxious moments before reaching this stage, but the final hurdle proves a still greater ordeal.
I cannot speak on the reactions of other players although I am certain that such a talk would be far more interesting than will my own individual experience during the 1938 FA Cup Final between Preston North End and Huddersfield. However, I will endeavour to tell you my feelings and impressions on this memorable occasion. Long before the cup final day, there was tremendous excitement and enthusiasm amongst our supporters in Preston, and in many respects the players were glad to escape to the quite and peaceful surrounding of Bushy Hall where we completed our training.
Arrangements were made for us to travel by special coach to Wembley and within two miles of the stadium, the speed of our coach was reduced to a crawl by the dense traffic. On arrival at the ground we were spared the embarrassment and confusion which would have been caused by the hundreds of 'keen autograph hunters', through the aid of the police cordon around the dressing room. It was, however, most interesting to observe the amusing antics of the boys in their futile efforts to evade the attention of 'the law'.
It must surprise all the players when making their initial appearance at Wembley to find the dressing rooms are not up to the standard of the majority of League clubs, the dressing room itself being no more than 14ft square and the absolutions adjoining consist only of two slipper baths, four showers and four wash basins. After having a brief inspection of the accommodation, the players hastily scan the many telegrams of good wishes, before proceeding with the important business of preparing for this vital game.
The trainer seems very worried owing to the disappearance of two players whom we knew have gone to have a last minute talk with friends, but in a few minutes he is relived by their return. The half-hour before the kick-off is the time when a player feels most conscious of the responsibilities entrusted in him by the managers, directors and supporters.
I can distinctly remember many unpleasant visions I had of making all the worst possible mistakes which might cost us the game. I pictured myself making bad clearances, faulty passes back to the goalkeeper and worst of all scoring against my own side. I was trying to rid myself of all such thoughts when I heard someone asking for the window to be opened - that was rather strange as I too thought the atmosphere was very sickening, but with the trainer's reply that all the windows were opened, I new the other players were feeling the strain.
Right-half William Shankly, who was one of our 'wise crackers-in-chief', related one of his fishing stories in an effort to relieve the tenseness, and it seemed to bring forth an unnatural amount of laughter. My namesake Bobbie Beattie attempted to occupy his mind by replacing his boots a second time, whilst Frank Gallimore, our right-back, was apparently finding it more difficult today to obtain his normal hair parting.
For my own part, in addition to observing the unusual actions of my comrades, I whiled away the time by discussing with Tom Smith, our captain, and Harry Holdcroft, the goalkeeper, the various details on the prearranged defensive plan.
Ten minutes before we were due to take the field, Mr Taylor, our Chairman, entered the dressing room, and although we expected his usual advice, this day he was silent, knowing that the players were already keyed up for this great occasion. Of course we had discussed the plan and tactics we were to adopt during our stay at Bushy Hall, so there was no further need to go over it again.
Suddenly the door opened and in rushed a rather excited man, to announce that the King and Queen were on their way and that we were to be prepared to take the field in five minutes' time. I think that many of the players had forgotten the great honour of being presented to their Majesties, which is bestowed on most Cup Final teams, and so the remaining minutes were spent in deciding what we should say when introduced.
With a warm shake of the hand from the trainer and the masseur we passed into the hallway where we linked with our rivals Huddersfield. We finally appeared into the arena and were presented to our King amidst the thunderous cheering of the 94,000 spectators, which reminded many of us of the famous Hampden roar. After introduction it seemed as though a magic wand had been waved over the vast throng, for as strains of the National Anthem were heard the crowd stilled into a silence which is impossible to describe.
Immediately the game started I had forgotten all the weird thoughts of impending mistakes, was barely conscious of the crowd and was only interested in the game ahead. We played strictly according to our prearranged plan, which was, briefly a defensive one during the initial stages, trying to make sure that our opponents would not gain the advantage of an early goal, and to enable us to sum up our opponents.
In this system all the players had their part to play in defence with the exception of the two wingers and the centre-forward. In attack, all the team, except of course the goalkeeper, participated, moving the ball up the field in cohesion and avoiding the fatal mistake of leaving a gap between forwards and defence.
In our defensive system, it was possible for the centre half to advance well upfield, the full-backs taking the necessary precautions to position themselves deeper infield and a little behind the centre half. The position of the covering back is of course decided according to whichever wing the ball is in play.
If our left wing was attacking, the left-half and left-back moved forward to keep all that part of the team linked up and the right-back coming infield to cover the centre. If the play was on the opposite wing, a similar positioning would result, leaving the left full-back the last player in defence; therefore our centre-half was a 'pivot' in the real sense of the word. I think our record of 11 goals for with only one against in the five previous rounds proved how successful and sound this plan was.
It was a hard rather than a brilliant first half, with defences allowing the forwards few opportunities to score. Perhaps the best scoring chance was when our inside left seemingly had the goal at his mercy and was brought down by what appeared to be a doubtful tackle. In the dressing room at half-time, we decided to make more use of our wingers owing to the superb defensive play of Alf Young, the Huddersfield centre half.
On one or two occasions during the second half we had high hopes that this would prove successful but Hesford, the Town's goalkeeper, put the shutters up when Watmough and Hughie O'Donnell outwitted the backs. All the wiles and ruses of both sets of forwards were unavailing and as the minutes ticked away a draw seemed a likely possibility. Just before full time, Isaac, the Huddersfield inside right, worked his way through to send in a shot which brought out the best in Harry Holdcroft.
We players had never played extra-time before, so you can imagine our thoughts when we were faced with another 15 minutes each way. This last half-hour was the most trying I have experienced in football, feeling so leg weary that I was more interested in hearing the final whistle than in the ultimate result of the game. The pace had slowed considerably, which was only to be expected in this ding-dong struggle, and we were all prepared for the end when perhaps the most dramatic incident of all Cup Finals occurred.
You will perhaps remember the incident. George Mutch, our brilliant inside-right who had been a little more subdued than usual, received a pass 10 yards outside the Huddersfield penalty area; he brought the ball under perfect control and seeing no one in a better position than himself, decided to make a last despairing effort of his own. Young, the centre-half, sensed the danger immediately and came forward to tackle Mutch.
The inside right advanced towards the goal and just as Young was about to make his tackle, he pushed the ball past the centre-half towards the right corner flag, and attempted to follow up by swerving outwards. Young made his tackle too late and in so doing brought Mutch down heavily. It was a tragedy that a penalty should have been given, for we knew what the feeling of the opposition players must have been after struggling valiantly for 119 minutes.
Young had played a magnificent game all through and did not deserve to make this fatal mistake. It was fortunate for me that Mutch had been selected during our training to take any penalty awarded to us in this game, as I had been the recognised choice for this job in previous matches. The injured player was dazed and I must confess that for a few minutes I felt most uncomfortable, realising that the responsibility might rest with me.
However, after receiving the attention of the trainer, he recovered somewhat, and I anxiously asked him how he was feeling. He replied in a hoarse whisper "Do you want to take it?". I was greatly relieved when the trainer answered for me, that Mutch should take it if he was fit enough. Still a little dazed, George placed the ball on the spot, whilst I proceeded to walk back towards my own goal feeling so afraid that in his semiconscious state and with so much at stake he might fail, and at the same time feeling a little guilty that I had not volunteered to relieve him of his responsibility.
I heard the thud of boot and ball as a deathly silence prevailed, and for a few fleeting seconds I thought that he had missed this golden opportunity. With the thunderous applause of our supporters I turned to see Hesford retrieving the ball from the back of the net. When asked in the dressing room how he felt at this vital moment, George replied: "I just closed my eyes and banged it".
There was no further time for play and it may interest you to know that the ball still retains a white mark - the result of Mutch's dramatic kick hitting the underside of the crossbar on its journey into the net. Twenty-two tired and exhausted players then proceeded to the Royal Box to receive the medals presented by Her Majesty the Queen.
At the conclusion of the game, perhaps the happiest man was our chairman, Mr Taylor, who with tears of joy in his eyes managed to say "Thank you boys". Many celebrated personalities were present at the banquet in the evening, but the players were all too weary to enjoy it to the full, and many of us retired to bed at a very early hour.
After spending the weekend in London we returned to Preston to be welcomed by an estimated crowd of 80,000 people. It was a wonderful feeling to realise our efforts had brought such pride to the citizens of 'Proud Preston' and also that we had, at the same time, attained the coveted honour of having earned a cup winner's medal.
