After England won the football World Cup in 1966, the recently retired Northern Irish footballer Danny Blanchflower, later voted Tottenham’s greatest ever player, reflected on the tournament for the New Statesman. Blanchflower assesses not just the English centre-backs but also the meaning of sporting triumph in a population struggling, even then, with a sense of post-imperial national decline.
The World Cup has proved once again that soccer is the greatest show on Earth. Yet this series did not seem as good as some of the others. It was better than 1962 but not as good as 1954 and 1958. The final was an exciting climax, made more emotional by bad refereeing, and much was forgotten when all worked out well in the end. I had wondered if the Wembley crowd could rouse itself to the emotional heights necessary to give England full measure of the home advantage. Were the English blasé, apart from the northern tribes? This time they were different. Was it the sun setting on the empire, and the rocking economy? They needed something to cheer them and something to cheer. In the event, they helped more than they knew.
If you doubt the importance of home advantage, consider the evidence. The hosts, Uruguay, won in 1930 as did the Italians in 1934. France were not strong enough to take advantage of it in 1938, so their Italian neighbours beat Hungary in the final. In 1950 suicides were committed when the home team, Brazil, lost to nearby Uruguay. The hosts, Switzerland, were not in the reckoning in 1954 but neighbouring Germany beat near-neighbours Hungary in the final. Brazil were the first invaders from afar to conquer in 1958 when they beat the home team, Sweden. That is why theirs was acclaimed as the greatest of World Cup triumphs.
In intention, England were as defensive as any team in the tournament. At times they looked less so because they were urged on by the crowd. The defence was given too much credit and talked of as the best in the world. In fact, the forwards, written off in the early stages, were selected more as initial defenders than as attackers. In the end it was Alan Ball and Geoff Hurst who did most to win the final. Persistence and stamina were the qualities that carried the team through. England endured. Our footballers proved that they can still beat most other countries most of the time at home.
The best football match of the series was Brazil vs Hungary. If the Hungarians had come with one good goalkeeper instead of two suspect ones, they might have won the cup; with players like Florian Albert, Sándor Mátrai and Kálmán Mészöly, they were certainly the best-looking team. Portugal,too, lacked a good goalkeeper and a centre-half as well: they needed the breaks to cover up such weaknesses for so long. Germany were worthy finalists, though like England they enjoyed some luck. In general, Europe was flattered with teams in the first four places, and the South Americans suffered from inefficient refereeing.
In the early stages, when the referees were too lenient, Pelé was chopped out of the game; in the later stages, when the referees went to the other extreme, Argentina and Uruguay were the victims. Antonio Rattín’s banishment is hard to justify. Leo Horn, the Dutch referee, who was passed over by the selection committee for the tournament because he had criticised that body, predicted that there would be trouble over the differences between the European game and the South American. He turned out to be right.
[See also: From the archive: Why Picasso?]
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This article appears in the 07 Aug 2025 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Special 2025
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