The FA and London Underground have more in common than you'd think

The Football Association is 150 years old this month - so, too, is the London Underground. But the similarities don't stop there.

At first sight and first thought there is absolutely no connection between association football and the London Underground. How could there be – one is a popular ball game and the other is a transport system located in London. But they do have, by chance, at least one thing in common: each was created in London exactly 150 years ago, in 1863. The FA’s 150th birthday is next week, 26 October. Well done, FA.

They are two of Britain’s more important contributions to life on the planet. Not only did our football go round the world, so did the Tube. Two years ago, I had what I thought was a brilliant idea. How about doing a combined biography?

In fiction, it is quite common to be following the stories of different people who, in the end, somehow come together – or not, depending on how artsy the novel. Why can’t a non-fiction book have two different narratives, running side by side? I have around 2,000 football books, mags and souvenirs. I’m also fascinated by the Tube and collect old Tube maps, my best stuff being some original artwork by Harry Beck. In 1933, he produced the Tube’s iconic map, one of the greatest ever creations of graphic art.

Why did it take so long? The various lines that made up the London Underground had come together to promote themselves in 1909, yet until Beck, Tube maps looked like a plate of spaghetti. In football, I have always puzzled why it took until 1888 for the Football League to be formed, introducing leagues and points, when organised football had been going since 1863. Mysteries, mysteries.

There is an interesting coincidence at the very beginning. The first official international football game ever played was in Glasgow in 1872, between Scotland and England (result: 0-0). The first underground railway outside London was guess where? Glasgow – opened in 1886. They each spent money and hired the best contemporary architects, letting the world see how grand they were. A Scotsman called Archibald Leitch built many of the great football stadiums, such as Highbury, Hillsborough, Stamford Bridge and Craven Cottage, most of them now listed buildings. Many of our pre-war Tube stations, with their distinctive tiling, are now also listed.

The Tube system, as it expanded, helped the rise of a new human species: the commuter. It led to the growth of the London suburbs. Football created football reporters, football newspapers and now Sky TV.

The Tube and football combined when it came to big national events. The Tube laid on extra transport for the millions wanting to watch the first FA Cup final at Wembley in 1923 and the London Olympics of 1948. In 1933, football and London Underground histories coincided when Gillespie Road Tube station, at the suggestion of the Arsenal manager Herbert Chapman, was renamed Arsenal.

The First Word War brought workingclass women into the munitions factories, who played football in their lunch hour and then formed teams. Some 53,000 turned out at Goodison in 1920 to see Dick, Kerr’s Ladies, from a Preston factory, play St Helens Ladies. A similar thing happened with the Tube – when the men went off to war, women were recruited to replace them. In 1915 the newly opened Maida Vale Tube station was run entirely by women.

In 1956, London Transport sent recruitment officers to Barbados who came back with 70 new members of staff. At the time, there were no black footballers in Britain. British coaches considered black players soft, unable to stand our climate and culture. Today, 32 per cent of the Underground’s non-clerical employees are non-white, which, by coincidence, is similar to the non-white proportion of players in the Premiership.

George Orwell and John Galsworthy set scenes on the Tube, as did Iris Murdoch. John Betjeman wrote several poems with a Tube setting. Arnold Bennett and J B Priestley both had long descriptions of football games in their novels. Oh, what fun I’d have had, what riches to write about. But every publisher said: Nah, boring. People who like football don’t want to read about the Tube. And vice versa. Ah well, got a column out of it.

Former West Ham manager Ron Greenwood holds the FA Cup on the tube in 1964. Photograph: Hulton Archive/Getty Images.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 17 October 2013 issue of the New Statesman, The Austerity Pope

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The joy of only winning once: why England should be proud of 1966

We feel the glory of that triumphant moment, 50 years ago, all the more because of all the other occasions when we have failed to win.

There’s a phrase in football that I really hate. It used to be “Thirty years of hurt”. Each time the England team crashes out of a major tournament it gets regurgitated with extra years added. Rather predictably, when England lost to Iceland in Euro 2016, it became “Fifty years of hurt”. We’ve never won the European Championship and in 17 attempts to win the World Cup we have only won once. I’m going to tell you why that’s a record to cherish.

I was seven in 1966. Our telly was broken so I had to watch the World Cup final with a neighbour. I sat squeezed on my friend Colin’s settee as his dad cheered on England with phrases like “Sock it to them Bobby”, as old fashioned now as a football rattle. When England took the lead for the second time I remember thinking, what will it feel like, when we English are actually Champions of the World. Not long after I knew. It felt good.

Wembley Stadium, 30 July 1966, was our only ever World Cup win. But let’s imagine what it would be like if, as with our rivals, we’d won it many times? Brazil have been World Champions on five occasions, Germany four, and Italy four. Most England fans would be “over the moon” if they could boast a similarly glorious record. They’re wrong. I believe it’s wonderful that we’ve only triumphed once. We all share that one single powerful memory. Sometimes in life less is definitely more.

Something extraordinary has happened. Few of us are even old enough to remember, but somehow, we all know everything that happened that day. Even if you care little about the beautiful game, I’m going to bet that you can recall as many as five iconic moments from 50 years ago. You will have clearly in your mind the BBC commentator Kenneth Wolstenholme’s famous lines, as Geoff Hurst tore down the pitch to score his hat-trick: “Some people are on the pitch. They think it’s all over. It is now”. And it was. 4 - 2 to England against West Germany. Thirty minutes earlier the Germans had equalised in the dying moments of the second half to take the game to extra time.

More drama we all share: Geoff Hurst’s second goal. Or the goal that wasn’t, as technology has since, I think, conclusively proved. The shot that crashed off the cross bar and did or didn’t cross the line. Of course, even if you weren’t alive at the time, you will know that the linesman, one Tofiq Bakhramov, from Azerbaijan (often incorrectly referred to as “Russian”) could speak not a word of English, signalled it as a goal.

Then there’s the England Captain, the oh-so-young and handsome Bobby Moore. The very embodiment of the era. You can picture him now wiping his muddy hands on his white shorts before he shakes hands with a youthful Queen Elizabeth. Later you see him lifted aloft by his team mates holding the small golden Jules Rimet trophy.

How incredible, how simply marvellous that as a nation we share such golden memories. How sad for the Brazilians and Germans. Their more numerous triumphs are dissipated through the generations. In those countries each generation will remember each victory but not with the intensity with which we English still celebrate 1966. It’s as if sex was best the first time. The first cut is the deepest.

On Colin’s dad’s TV the pictures were black and white and so were the flags. Recently I looked at the full colour Pathe newsreel of the game. It’s the red, white and blue of the Union Jack that dominates. The red cross of Saint George didn’t really come into prominence until the Nineties. The left don’t like flags much, unless they’re “deepest red”. Certainly not the Union Flag. It smacks of imperialism perhaps. In 1966 we didn’t seem to know if we were English or British. Maybe there was, and still is, something admirable and casual about not knowing who we are or what is our proper flag. 

Twelve years later I’m in Cuba at the “World Festival of Youth” – the only occasion I’ve represented my country. It was my chance to march into a stadium under my nation’s flag. Sadly, it never happened as my fellow delegates argued for hours over what, if any, flag we British should walk behind. The delegation leaders – you will have heard of them now, but they were young and unknown then – Peter Mandelson, Trevor Phillips and Charles Clarke, had to find a way out of this impasse. In the end, each delegation walked into the stadium behind their flag, except the British. Poor Mandelson stood alone for hours holding Union Jack, sweltering in the tropical sun. No other country seemed to have a problem with their flag. I guess theirs speak of revolution; ours of colonialism.

On Saturday 30 July BBC Radio 2 will commemorate the 50th anniversary of the 1966 World Cup Final, live from Wembley Arena. Such a celebration is only possible because on 16 occasions we failed to win that trophy. Let’s banish this idea of “Fifty years of hurt” once and for all and embrace the joy of only winning once.

Phil Jones edits the Jeremy Vine Show on BBC Radio 2. On Saturday 30 July the station celebrates the 50th anniversary of the 1966 World Cup Final live from Wembley Arena, telling the story of football’s most famous match, minute by minuteTickets are available from: www.wc66.org