The Flowers of Manchester: Remembering the Busby Babes – the full story of the Munich Air Disaster

THE FLOWERS OF MANCHESTER

Remembering the Busby Babes

THE FLOWERS OF MANCHESTER

Contents 1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

Birth of the Babes 03 European trailblazers 13 Disaster 23 Never forgotten 33 Renaissance 47 Epilogue 60

Remembering the Busby Babes

Copyright © Manchester United Football Club Ltd The right of Manchester United Football Club Ltd to be identified as the owner of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and P ­ atents Act, 1988. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be ­reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission in writing of the copyright holders, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.

‘The Flowers of Manchester’ is co-produced by Manchester United and Trinity Mirror Sport Media Words by Ivan Ponting With thanks to...

Steve Bartram, Cliff Butler, Rick Cooke, Paul Davies, Charlie Ghagan, Tom Keeling, Ian McLeish, Andrew Lisgo, Adam Oldfield, Phil Townsend and Mark Wylie Photography: Getty Images, Press Association

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C h a pt e r

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BIRTH OF THE BABES

T

here was an exhilarating, refreshing wind of change blowing through the English game in the early 1950s, and the source was Old Trafford. A revolution was getting under way, one which would sweep all before it on football fields the length and breadth of the land, then go on to resonate exuberantly across Europe.

It emanated from the idealistic, supremely uplifting vision of charismatic Manchester United boss Matt Busby, the former miner with the air of a nobleman who, while taking his first bold steps in management back in the 1940s, embraced the notion that the only way to lay lasting foundations for long-term success at Old Trafford was through youth.

Accordingly, every appointment to his backroom staff was 3

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tailored to that ultimate requirement. Of course, the future Sir Matt needed men capable of burnishing the standards of his then-current first team – themselves a collection of deliciously talented individuals and colourful characters, mostly experienced performers in their middle twenties – but beyond that, the ability to work imaginatively with gifted youngsters was regarded as compulsory.

Thus in the immediate post-war years, while the Reds were purveying some breathtakingly entertaining football – lifting the FA Cup in 1948 and finishing as runners-up in the title race in four seasons out of five before finally clinching the crown in 1951/52 – Busby surrounded himself with an ­inspirational team of helpers.

Foremost among them was his galvanic no.2, the earthy, generous-hearted Welshman Jimmy Murphy, whom he had encountered during wartime service in Italy and who had captured the softly spoken but iron-willed Scot’s imagination with his passionate, fire-and-brimstone approach to coaching.

As Busby recalled: “It was Jimmy’s attitude, his command, his enthusiasm and his whole driving, determined action and word-power that caused me to say to myself, ‘He’s the man for me.’ He was the one who would help me create a pattern that would run right through Manchester United’s teams of players, from 15 years of age upwards to the first team.”

Busby’s other choices, while less fearsome than the demonstrative Murphy, were also masters of their trade. ­ There was the avuncular but fair-mindedly firm senior coach 4

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Bert Whalley, who had played for United either side of the war and whose shrewdness was equalled only by his warmth.

Then there were the trainers: the kind, wise and orderly Tom Curry; and Bill Inglis, another former United footballer and a rougher diamond, but an equally engaging mentor to his young charges. The senior staff was completed by ­physiotherapist Ted Dalton, dedicated to his craft, and chief talent scout Joe Armstrong, who unearthed countless gems during his lengthy service to the Old Trafford cause, not least because of his knack for charming the parents of future stars.

Equipped with this exceptional retinue, even without unlimited funds, the quietly commanding Busby was perfectly placed to advance his philosophy for youth development, which he explained with typical eloquence at the time: “Manchester United players, I decided, would have to be found as soon as they left school. They would have to develop and mature with the club and dedicate their soccer careers to the success of Manchester United. I wanted to build teams of world-class footballers, and to do the job efficiently it was essential to get hold of them young.”

With this policy in full swing, come the autumn of 1952, Busby’s reigning champions were stuttering distressingly, with many players past their prime. To the watching world, a slide towards mediocrity seemed likely as they lost six of their first 11 league games, but the Reds boss reacted with nerveless decisiveness. He called up a raft of the ravishingly promising rookies he and his expert lieutenants had been 5

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nurturing for several years and who would finish the season as winners of the inaugural FA Youth Cup, a competition the Reds would dominate for the first five years of its existence.

During the second half of the previous campaign, he had already given chances to full-back Roger Byrne, who had also been tried on the wing; centre-half Mark Jones; utility man Jackie Blanchflower and wing-half Jeff Whitefoot, who had become United’s youngest ever senior debutant at the tender age of 16 years and 105 days.

Now in 1952/53; opportunity knocked for flankmen Johnny Scott and David Pegg, centre-forward Eddie Lewis, inside-forward John Doherty, defender Bill Foulkes and striker Dennis Viollet, while Busby made an exception to the wider thrust of his transfer rule by signing spearhead Tommy Taylor from Barnsley for £29,999, the odd pound bestowed on an Oakwell tea lady so as not to saddle the Yorkshireman with the burden of becoming a £30,000 recruit.

And there was one more novice who was offered his chance at the top level, a 16-year-old Midlander by the name of Duncan Edwards, a mountainously built boy-man whom many shrewd contemporary observers maintain to this day was the finest all-round footballer ever born in these islands.

When Busby outlined his intentions, many scoffed derisively, believing here was just another bluffer promising ‘jam tomorrow’ – but Matt knew he was sitting on a goldmine.

That term United blew hot and cold, finishing eighth in the First Division table, but the manager was not for turning, 6

BIRTH OF THE BABES

and he reacted to a sorely disappointing start to 1953/54 – three defeats and five draws in their opening eight matches – by accelerating his changing of the guard. At that point he had been persisting with plenty of his faithful veterans, but after experimenting successfully in a convenient friendly at Kilmarnock in October, a 3-0 victory, he made up his mind to press Edwards, Blanchflower, Viollet and Foulkes into regular first-team duty.

The upshot was fourth place in 1953/54 and fifth in 1954/55, and it became clear to all with eyes to see that something new and special was happening to the national sport. Although Matt Busby, with his tweed-and-trilby image, was a long way from the rock’n’roll culture that was breaking out all over at the time, his team was the movement’s footballing embodiment.

Though the players were never rebels as such, they were young, fresh and ebulliently precocious, and showed themselves capable of destroying opponents with flowing, blood-quickeningly attractive football – they seemed set to sweep all before them for the foreseeable future.

Not only combining to scintillating effect on the park, Edwards, Taylor, Blanchflower and Pegg – and, by mid-decade, wing-half Eddie Colman, dazzling attacker Bobby Charlton and sumptuously gifted inside-forward Billy Whelan and the rest – were also growing up together, creating a team spirit that evolved naturally and was stronger, that meant more, than anything forged solely by a coach.

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What made prospects even more overwhelmingly depressing for the opposition was that Busby had more than 20 of these bright young things at his disposal, with a smattering of more mature individuals, such as captain Roger Byrne and winger Johnny Berry, to add the necessary nous.

What must it have been like to live through such uproarious times at close quarters? The former England schoolboy skipper and full international Wilf McGuinness – whose playing days were cruelly cut short by injury at the age of 22, but who went on to a brief reign as United manager when Busby eventually stepped aside – recalls the experience with characteristic exuberance.

“They were special days. The war was not long over, life was getting back to some sort of normality, a fresh culture was emerging. We looked at the likes of James Dean and Marlon Brando and we gasped at their performances; rock’n’roll was taking off big time. Meanwhile, in sport, it could be said that the new spirit of youth was symbolised by the Busby Babes – a description Matt disliked, incidentally. They were catching the imagination of fans everywhere, playing their football with a swagger that matched the changing times.

“Not that they were swaggering people, just that when they won – which they were doing with increasing frequency – they did so with such flair and style,” continues McGuinness.

“Most of the players were only just starting out and still had a lot of learning to do, but they were so, so talented and there seemed no limit to what they might achieve.”

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BIRTH OF THE BABES

Bill Foulkes agreed. Another ex-pitman, he was a far more solemn individual than the effervescent McGuinness, but he, too, recognised that a new pulse was beating furiously.

“United were in the grip of a transition the like of which no club had been through before, and I doubt seriously whether quite such a seismic eruption will ever happen again.

Youngsters were surging in on an endless wave of talent, flocking from all over the country. You didn’t know where to look because all of a sudden there would be yet another brilliant newcomer. It was such a privilege to be part of it all.”

There was bound to be a poignant side to this joyous renaissance, with a host of legendary names heading for the exit door. Inside-forward Johnny Morris and wingers Charlie Mitten and Jimmy Delaney had already departed before the youthful surge, while they were soon followed by polished full-back and skipper Johnny Carey, his rearguard partner John Aston and inside man Stan Pearson. Next to step aside were half-backs Henry Cockburn and Allenby Chilton, and the club’s all-time leading goalscorer Jack Rowley, leaving goalkeeper Jack Crompton – destined to become the club’s long-serving trainer – to make the last senior appearance of the 1948 Cup-winning side.

Crucially, though, and in keeping with the family ethos of the club which Busby, Murphy and company had fostered so assiduously, the outgoing veterans demonstrated their stature as men as well as footballers by selflessly assisting with the development of the boys who were about to take their jobs.

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Vindication of all this frenetic activity arrived in 1955/56, with the Babes blossoming so luxuriantly that they romped away with the league championship by a remarkable 11 points, though it wasn’t all plain sailing from the outset. They kicked off with two draws, at Birmingham and at home to Tottenham Hotspur, then came a spell of three defeats in six games, including a single-goal reverse to Manchester City at Maine Road and a 4-2 beating by Everton at Goodison Park which left the Babes in mid-table.

But Busby remained unfazed, keeping the faith while their form gained consistency as autumn wore on, so that a 1-0 win at Cardiff in October took them to the summit.

By midwinter, the Reds had hit a dominant stride that would see their rivals – principally Blackpool, Wolves, Manchester City and Arsenal – eclipsed in the second half of the season, in which the Babes suffered only two league defeats. There was, however, a stunning 4-0 aberration at Bristol Rovers in the third round of the FA Cup, a setback which left their normally undemonstrative boss incandescent with anger, and the players felt his ire on the journey home to Manchester, as Foulkes recalled.

“On the train trip down we had played cards and a few of the lads, including myself, had lost some wages. In my case it was £8, pretty well the whole contents of one of my earlier paypackets as a professional. On the way back, the school started again, and that was enough for our manager, who snatched up the cards and the money and threw them 10

BIRTH OF THE BABES

out of the window! No one so much as murmured. We knew we had let ourselves and the club down, and the Boss was entitled to be upset.”

Happily for the Reds, that proved to be an isolated incident as one coruscating display followed another, invariably featuring breathtaking examples of sweet-passing interplay and an unmovably positive outlook.

Duncan Edwards put it like this: “When we go on the attack we have all our forwards moving together, in contrast to deep-lying centre-forwards, old-fashioned ‘W’ plans etc.

Consequently, the wing-halves move up, too, to maintain contact with their forwards, and the backs shift forward to keep touch with the wing-halves. Thus the team is always a unit and never an isolated series of individuals strung out over the field leaving huge gaps for the opposition to exploit.”

It was a ‘one-for-all and all-for-one’ ethos that would have done credit to the Three Musketeers, the togetherness on the pitch as unshakeable as the camaraderie off it.

During this sublime period of communal growth and exploration, although Busby was willing to change his line-up at need, a reasonably settled team emerged featuring Ray Wood in goal, Foulkes and skipper Roger Byrne at full-back, Mark Jones as the stopper centre-half, irrepressible little Eddie Colman and the leviathan Edwards either side of him as wing-halves, Berry and Pegg on the wings with Taylor and Viollet as prolific front-runners and either Doherty, Whelan or Blanchflower filling the other inside-forward slot.

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THE FLOWERS OF MANCHESTER

Within that basic framework, there were also o­ pportunities for full-backs Ian Greaves and Geoff Bent, wing-halves Whitefoot and Freddie Goodwin, utility attacker Colin Webster and flankman Albert Scanlon. Quite simply, it was a phenomenal squad with an average age in the low twenties.

Nobody understood the scale of the achievement to that point better than Murphy, who had been so intimately involved. He described his charges as the most brilliant batch of youngsters ever to be on one club’s books at the same time, a judgment that feels equally sound today.

He reflected on the process in his customary pithy manner: “Football fans, or at least the noisy and unthinking section of them, demand instant success as they might demand instant coffee. You cannot order that in soccer. Matt Busby never panicked as a player, nor does he as a manager... fear stifles creative action. We had to be patient while this fringe of fanatics demanded that ‘Busby must buy’... or else they were urging his staff to get off their backsides and find some players.

“We kept quiet and waited, just like a gardener has to wait for little apples to grow,” continued Murphy. “Managing a football club is a little like gardening; you cannot rush nature; any more than you can rush young footballers before they are ripe for the demanding challenge of first-class soccer.”

United’s patience paid off – and how! With one major trophy in the cabinet, the potential remained astronomical – and the future beckoned alluringly...

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C h a pt e r

T W O

EUROPEAN TRAILBLAZERS

A

fter taking the English top flight by storm in 1955/56, the horizons of Matt Busby and his Babes appeared boundless. Indeed, the visionary Old Trafford boss was determined to reach for the sky, an undertaking which at that time entailed entry into the European Cup, a newly launched competition dedicated to extending both the sporting rivalry and the bonds of friendship between champion clubs from all over the continent.

But there was a problem. When the format had been agreed by clubs from 16 nations at a meeting in Paris in 1955, the most recent winners of the Football League, Chelsea, were invited to take part but, under severe pressure from the hidebound traditionalists who ran the League, declined the 13

THE FLOWERS OF MANCHESTER

opportunity. The reason given was that midweek European travel would make it difficult to fulfil domestic commitments, which at that time amounted only to First Division and FA Cup fixtures.

But whereas Chelsea did as they were told, the tough-minded Busby – behind that customary genial smile lurked a single-minded dynamo with a core of steel – had other ideas. He had no truck with the League’s insular approach, understanding that the only way to progress was to put his team up against the best other countries had to offer.

He had no intention of standing idly by while the standard of English international football was plummeting alarmingly.

He had winced at the humiliation handed out to England by the USA at the 1950 World Cup, and been frankly appalled when Hungary’s ‘Magnificent Magyars’ trounced an abject England twice in the space of six months, 6-3 at Wembley and 7-1 in Budapest.

He had also listened as fans of Wolves, United’s main rivals on the home front throughout most of the decade, trumpeted their credentials as ‘world champions’ after performing ­magnificently in a series of prestigious and hugely popular floodlit friendlies against crack Eastern Bloc opposition.

To Busby, then, there was a conclusive body of evidence that participation in the European Cup was crucial to future improvement, and he was confident that his precocious young group was equipped for the challenge. Chelsea’s timidity had been thrown into an even more unforgiving 14

EUROPEAN TRAILBLAZERS

spotlight because Scottish club Hibernian had accepted the 1955 invitation and reached the tournament’s semi-finals.

With all due respect to his enterprising countrymen, it must have crossed Busby’s mind that if the Easter Road outfit, an excellent enough team but with limited resources, could soar so far, so soon, then the potential for his gloriously gifted Babes was colossal.

In addition, he believed fervently in the quality of his reserves if strain and injuries were accumulated in the European Cup, and so when a letter arrived from the League management committee forbidding United from entering the 1956/57 tournament, the boss refused to buckle.

He knew that it was really a Football Association issue, beyond the League’s remit, and so he consulted FA secretary Stanley Rous, a fellow with a similarly enlightened global view to his own. Rous was in favour of the Reds taking part, club chairman Harold Hardman was of similar persuasion and so Busby got his wish for United to blaze the trail into official continental competition. This, he was convinced, was where the future of the game lay.

Thus excitement was running at fever pitch in the summer break before the 1956/57 campaign, which the Babes commenced in the form of their young lives. In the League, they proved invincible throughout their first dozen matches, 10 of which were won, a sequence which did not end until a shock 5-2 home defeat by Everton in late October. During that run, the strikers were virtually uncontrollable, with the 15

THE FLOWERS OF MANCHESTER

ebullient Tommy Taylor running centre-halves ragged and that steel dart of a finisher, Dennis Viollet, particularly rampant with 10 goals, including an exquisite hat-trick in a 3-2 home win over Preston North End. This period also marked the debut of one of the most revered figures in Manchester United history, Bobby Charlton, who stepped up to face his namesake club, Charlton Athletic, at Old Trafford in the first week of October.

Ever since he had disappointed scouts from dozens of other clubs as a 15-year-old back in 1953 by agreeing to join United when he left school, he had been tipped for stardom. Duly he made splendid progress during his first years at Old Trafford but it had seemed to the unassuming north-­easterner that his senior breakthrough would never materialise.

He remembers: “I’d been longing for the ‘Old Man’, as Matt Busby was known, to call me into his office to tell me I’d been picked. Finally he sent for me, but even then I feared my hopes would be dashed as he was clearly anxious about my right ankle. It was three weeks since I had gone over on it, suffering strained ligaments, and it was still sore. But there was no way I was going to miss this opportunity, so I assured him it was fine.

“At last I was in – as a replacement for centre-forward Tommy Taylor, who was away on England duty – and with the adrenaline whizzing around my system, I didn’t feel a twinge from the moment the game got under way. Johnny Berry gave us an early lead, and then along came my chance.

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The ball reached me on the left corner of the box and I hit it instinctively with my left foot past ’keeper Eddie Marsh. It nestled beautifully just inside the far post.

“Scoring a goal on my United debut was something I had dreamed about incessantly, yet when it actually happened, it was more exhilarating than anything I could have imagined.

There was this wonderful rush of euphoria as the ball went in.

I never wanted the moment to end, and, in a sense, it didn’t because I can recall it still with gratifying clarity.” Later he scored a second from a similar position and United won 4-2.

Not so pleasing to the Reds camp, though, was that Everton defeat, which produced grist to the mill for sceptics who didn’t believe in the European ideal. The unexpected setback came only three days after a taxing encounter with Borussia Dortmund, and there was no shortage of naysayers and I-told-you-so merchants revelling in United’s discomfiture.

In reality, however, continental duties could hardly be said to have hampered the team as another season of domestic domination continued to unfold. The Babes scored freely from August to April, racking up more than a century of First Division goals, with all the attackers contributing impressively to the handsome total. Leading the way was quiet Dubliner Billy Whelan, who weighed in with 26 league strikes, many of them examples of rare precision, while Taylor knocked in 22, Viollet 16, Charlton 10, Berry eight and Pegg six, with Edwards delivering five from midfield.

The crown was secured with an eight-point gap to both 17

THE FLOWERS OF MANCHESTER

Tottenham Hotspur and Preston North End, with Blackpool three points further back in fourth place. As a sidelight, the presence of the Lancashire pair in the top four offers a vivid illustration of the changing times, these finishing positions being typical of a bygone era before the axing of the maximum wage severely handicapped clubs outside the big cities.

As for the Reds, the swashbuckling style was carried into the FA Cup, too, although they nearly came an embarrassing cropper in their opening encounter, with Hartlepools United, then riding high in the Third Division North. Initially the Babes made light of difficult conditions in the north-east, skating over the Victoria Park quagmire to grab a three-goal lead after only half an hour, courtesy of Whelan, Berry and Taylor. But the valiant underdogs staged an epic fightback, recovering to 3-3 after 65 minutes, only for Whelan to pop up with a winner for the visitors.

There followed less melodramatic victories over Wrexham, Everton, Bournemouth and Birmingham City on the way to a Wembley showdown with Aston Villa. With the title already in the Old Trafford bag, there was immense excitement before the match about United’s chances of becoming the first club in the 20th century to lift the Double of League and FA Cup. Others had gone close to what had proved an elusive prize, but now the Reds, with their thrilling young side clearly the best in the land, were sizzling-hot favourites to make history beneath the twin towers that loomed over the famous old ground.

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EUROPEAN TRAILBLAZERS

Alas, the football fates were waiting to kick the Busby Babes in the teeth. Only six minutes in, Villa winger Peter McParland made a wild charge at goalkeeper Ray Wood, who sustained a smashed cheekbone and concussion, forcing him to withdraw from the action. In those days before substitutes, United were severely handicapped and, with Wood only able to make periodic returns to the pitch as an ineffective passenger, Villa triumphed 2-1 – with both their goals scored

by McParland, who would likely have been dismissed for his rashness in the modern era.

Yet for all the high-octane derring-do of the domestic front, it was United’s pioneering exploits in their first continental campaign which offered the most compelling challenge.

It all began with a 2-0 away win over Belgian champions Anderlecht, the precursor to one of the most memorable nights in the rich history of Manchester football. The second leg was staged at City’s ground, Maine Road, because United’s new floodlights were not ready, and it was the scene of an annihilation, with the rampant Reds plundering 10 goals without reply.

It wasn’t that Anderlecht were a poor team, but they were unprepared for their hosts’ bewilderingly fluid movement and ruthless finishing, especially from Viollet, who netted four times while Taylor contented himself with a hat-trick. Every forward scored except Pegg, ironically the star performer and creator of four goals, with his team-mates making unavailing attempts to get him on the scoresheet late in the second half.

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The Reds started the next round in similarly dominant manner, establishing a 3-0 advantage over visiting Borussia Dortmund after only 34 minutes, but then allowing the Germans to snatch two late goals to set up a cliff-hanger for the second leg. However, cometh the hour, cometh Ray Wood, who staged the performance of his life between the posts on a bleak Ruhr evening to ensure a goalless draw and progress to the last eight.

What followed in the quarter-final was utterly sensational, with United and Athletic Bilbao providing entertainment of the first order. In truth, despite performing with their customary verve on a Spanish field which appeared to consist of equal amounts of snow and mud, it looked like the Reds were on their way out after falling victim to a series of lightning counterattacks which left them 5-2 behind only five minutes from the final whistle.

Enter Whelan, with the goal of a lifetime, dribbling past three would-be markers in the oozing ankle-deep morass and shooting home from 25 yards. Still Busby’s men needed something akin to a miracle back on Manchester City’s turf, and they achieved it with a nerve-twanging triumph on the last and most tempestuous night of their temporary Maine Road tenure.

With Bilbao intent only on preserving their first-leg margin, United tore into attack from the off but didn’t break through until nearly half-time, when Viollet pounced. Thereafter, it was the majestic Taylor who riveted the eye, leading the line 20

EUROPEAN TRAILBLAZERS

in dashing fashion and making it 5-5 on aggregate on 72 minutes, then cleverly interchanging positions with Berry to set up the late winner for the workaholic winger.

The semi-final threw up an even more daunting test when the Reds were paired with the holders and the game’s ultimate aristocrats, Real Madrid, who counted among their number three of the top players the game has ever seen. The imperiously artistic deep-lying Argentina-born centre-forward Alfredo di Stefano was supported by the goal-hungry ‘Galloping Major’, Hungarian Ferenc Puskas, and Spaniard Francisco Gento, the world’s paciest and most powerful flankman at the time.

Though United fought gamely in the first leg, and were never outclassed in front of 135,000 fans at the forbiddingly cavernous Bernabeu stadium, they went down 3-1, all the goals arriving in the second half. It was a rare occurrence, but for once there could be no doubt that the Babes had been undone by a better, more mature side. Still, the deficit was not so immense that they kicked off the second leg at Old Trafford – a first European encounter under the new lights – without hope of reaching the final at their first attempt.

In the event, the eminent visitors just knew too much, being content to soak up early pressure from the ­indefatigable Edwards and company before stretching the aggregate advantage to 5-1 with an hour left of what became a fearsomely physical contest. Second-half goals from Taylor and Charlton salvaged respectability and a draw on 21

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the night, but now a rousing first European campaign was over. Matt Busby was anything but dismayed, asserting that United’s performances had justified the expedition, which he described as an adventure, and he was remarkably upbeat about the future.

“I believe my young men possess the potential to give Real a beating once they have picked up the vital experience so essential when you are playing at international level. I do not normally go in for rash forecasting, but I prophesy that should Manchester United meet Real Madrid in a couple of years, the match would go in our favour.”

Charlton agreed that an emphatic point had been made about the Reds’ potential: “We ran out of time, but when the late goals went in, we learned something about Real – and about ourselves. We had got to a stage, though very late, when we felt we could truly compete with the best team in Europe. We did have cause for a little satisfaction. It was as though we outran our doubts and discovered that if this team from Madrid was hugely gifted, even magical, they were still human. If you cut them, blood would come, and there was no question that when Tommy and I found the net, and the crowd went mad, they became more than a little rattled. This was a tremendous encouragement for future campaigns.”

Bill Foulkes concurred: “Real had so many world-class performers, it was a privilege to play them, but I do believe we shook them to the core. It was an uplifting adventure and, so we all believed, the first of many.”

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C h a pt e r

T h r e e

DISASTER

T

here were no clouds on Manchester United’s horizon as they kicked off the 1957/58 season – a campaign that was to be so tragically sabotaged on a slushy Bavarian runway in early February, in the process writing one of the most agonising chapters in the history of sport.

Consider: United were viewed in many knowledgeable quarters as near-certainties to complete a hat-trick of title triumphs; there seemed every chance, as the precocious Babes continued to improve, that the longed-for, almost mythical league and FA Cup Double could become a reality at last; and having reached the semi-finals of the European Cup at the first tilt, there appeared no reason why they should not go at least one better in that competition, too.

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The side was replete with sumptuously talented performers – Duncan Edwards, Roger Byrne, Tommy Taylor, Bobby Charlton, the list of current and future stars in virtually every position was felt to be endless. And if some observers reckoned there was a slight weakness at the back, where they deemed the Reds to be occasionally vulnerable to swirling crosses, that was soon to be addressed by the purchase of Northern Ireland international Harry Gregg from Doncaster Rovers for £23,500, a world-record fee for a goalkeeper.

In Matt Busby and Jimmy Murphy, the club possessed a perfectly matched managerial team; the calm Scot with the magisterial presence who could hold crowds in the palm of his hand, and the intimidatingly abrasive but fun-loving Welsh dragon with the heart of purest gold.

If ever there was a cocktail for footballing success, surely this was it, and it was no surprise when the Reds started the new season like an express train with five wins and a draw in the first six games, notching a remarkable 22 goals in the process while conceding only five.

But then, out of a clear blue sky, came a sudden and inexplicable slump. Three of the next four games ended in defeat, including a 3-1 setback against championship rivals Wolves at Molineux. Admittedly, the Black Country reverse coincided with a flu epidemic which unmanned the Reds, with Byrne, Colman, Whelan and Viollet all sidelined and Taylor and Berry turning out in a weakened state.

More worryingly, a collective return to rude health did 24

DISASTER

not facilitate a decisive turnaround and the Busby Babes slipped significantly adrift of Stan Cullis’s hard-running Wolves outfit as autumn merged into winter. However, with his bulging squad of extravagant talent it was a situation for which the United boss was admirably prepared.

Thus in December he shuffled his pack. Gregg arrived to replace Wood and out went Jackie Blanchflower, who had been playing at centre-half, to be replaced by Mark Jones; wingers Johnny Berry and David Pegg were supplanted by Kenny Morgans and Albert Scanlon, while Charlton was deployed at inside-right instead of Billy Whelan.

These changes certainly didn’t signal the end of the dropped boys’ first-team aspirations. But for the tragic event which would befall the club all too soon, each one of them would have been given plenty more opportunities. It was just that, for the moment, Busby wanted to freshen his side and he did so boldly.

It was a typically canny piece of management and it worked immediately, with the Reds embarking on a sequence of nine league and FA Cup games unbeaten, including a 7-2 home evisceration of Bolton Wanderers in January which featured a cracking Charlton hat-trick.

While all this was going on, United were progressing ­satisfactorily in Europe, beating Irish champions Shamrock Rovers 9-2 on aggregate, including a 6-0 first-leg drubbing in Dublin, and seeing off the more challenging Czechoslovakians, Dukla Prague, 3-1 over the two legs.

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That earned a quarter-final tie with Red Star Belgrade.

On 14 January, United created countless goal chances at a saturated, fogbound Old Trafford, though they fell behind in the first half and only squeezed out a 2-1 victory through a late side-foot by Eddie Colman, an infrequent scorer.

After such a close call, Busby knew he could take nothing for granted in the second leg in Yugoslavia, but four days before that fateful European encounter there was important domestic business to take care of in the form of Arsenal at Highbury. The game was played at an uproarious tempo on a glutinously muddy surface and entered folklore as a fittingly enthralling epitaph to arguably the finest British football team of all time.

Charlton remembers it vividly: “We won 5-4 but not before the scoreline had see-sawed crazily. United led 3-0 at the interval, Arsenal fought back to 3-3, then we stretched out to 5-3 before they made it a cliff-hanger with a quarter of an hour still to play.”

Scanlon was the star that day, pounding nimbly through the gloop, while skipper Byrne pulled a thigh muscle that was to have fatal consequences for his deputy, Geoff Bent.

The younger man had not been slated to travel to Belgrade, but replaced reserve centre-half Ronnie Cope on the trip because Byrne was considered a doubt to face Red Star. On such fine margins did lives hang.

Yugoslavia was in the grip of a fierce winter and the pitch was a treacherous mixture of snow and mud, but the Babes 26

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were not thrown out of their stride. United led 3-0 at the break, and although the hosts clawed back to 3-3 near the end, the Reds hung on to prevail 5-4 on aggregate, thus reaching a second successive European Cup semi-final.

Understandably elated, that night they let their hair down at a celebration banquet and it was a jaunty travelling party, with one or two hangovers being nursed, which boarded the twin-engined British European Airways plane, flight code 609 Zulu Uniform, for the journey to Manchester the following morning.

As the doomed Elizabethan plane approached Munich to take on fuel, most of the players were playing cards and chatting, with no more than the normal level of apprehension which accompanies any landing in wintry weather. Immediately on touchdown, they ran into the terminal building, one or two pitching a few snowballs on the way, looking forward to a quick cup of tea before taking off on the last leg of their strenuous round trip.

Soon after 2pm, they were back on board, and at 2.31pm Lord Burleigh, as the aircraft was known, made the first of three abortive attempts to get off the ground. With co-pilot Kenneth Rayment at the controls, the Elizabethan accelerated down the runway, only for the port engine to sound an uneven note. The brakes were slammed on and the plane halted with some 400 yards to spare. Three minutes later a second attempt was abandoned in similar circumstances and Lord Burleigh taxied back to the terminal 27

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to be checked by engineers while the footballers and other passengers returned to the lounge.

Were they worried at this point? Bill Foulkes recalled that the atmosphere became very quiet, but not panicky.

Meanwhile Duncan Edwards sent a telegram to his landlady, advising that he would not be home until the following day.

However, after discussions with Rayment and station engineer William Black, Captain James Thain, the man in charge of the aircraft, decided to try again, confident that the rogue note in the engine was due to ‘boost surging’, a relatively common occurrence which didn’t pose a safety threat. Slush on the runway was not seen as a problem and Thain had satisfied himself that the wings were not iced up.

Thus the party boarded for the final time, and at 3.03pm, after a slight delay caused by newspaperman Alf Clarke calling his office, the Manchester United plane taxied towards catastrophe. Among the passengers the anxiety was palpable. Some had moved to the back of the airliner where they thought they would be safer – a theory which was to prove a fatal mistake. As the craft charged along the slushy tarmac, Billy Whelan, a devout Catholic, was heard by Foulkes and Gregg to murmur: “If this is the end, then I am ready for it.”

Later Foulkes would reflect: “At this point I was hit by the strongest possible feeling of foreboding. Something told me that we were not going to make it. By this time all the cards had stopped. I crouched right down, jamming my head 28

DISASTER

into my chest, well below the level of the top of the seat, and strapping myself in so tightly that I could hardly breathe. I have little doubt that these precautions saved my life.”

On the flight deck, Captains Thain and Rayment were sharing the controls. The Elizabethan reached 117 knots, the point at which it was unsafe to abandon take-off. Suddenly the speed dropped and Rayment shouted: “Christ! We can’t make it.”

Thain said later: “I looked up and could see a lot of snow and a house and a tree in the path of the aircraft. I was convinced we could not get between the house and the tree.

I put my head down and waited for the impact. The aircraft went through a fence, crossed a road and the port wing hit the house. The wing and part of the tail were torn off and the house caught fire. Luckily those in the house were unscathed.”

The cockpit hit a tree and part of the fuselage hit a fuel hut, which exploded. All that remained was horror. Gregg and Foulkes dragged themselves clear and, after taking stock of the carnage, began to help the survivors. The Northern Irishman found Charlton and Viollet unconscious and, though he wasn’t sure if they were alive or dead, he dragged them clear of the debris. Hearing a cry, he climbed back into the wreckage and, scrabbling in the darkness, rescued a baby and her mother. Later he was hailed as a hero, but he would have none of it: “What I did was what I did. It wasn’t heroic.

It could have been different. God forbid, if it happened again I may be the first one to run.”

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Gregg couldn’t comprehend the scene of utter devastation around him, but he was clear-headed enough to use his tie as a tourniquet on the injured arm of his close pal and fellow Ulsterman Jackie Blanchflower. Some of his mates were beyond help. Others, including the manager, lay groaning in the mud.

A little earlier, while trying to fight an engine fire with a tiny extinguisher, Thain, fearing an explosion, had shouted at the disorientated Foulkes, who was still in his seat, to “get the bloody hell out of there”. So Bill clawed his way through shards of twisted metal and sprinted a distance through thick snow before looking back: “I couldn’t believe the sight that met my eyes. The aircraft was cut in half. It felt like hell on earth.

“I remember kneeling down beside Matt and he kept saying, ‘It’s my side’ in a horrible deep moan. I wrapped him in my coat and sat holding his hand. Suddenly, almost surreally, Bobby Charlton woke up, just as if he had been enjoying a nap, and without a word he walked over to us, took off his jacket and put it under Matt, who was still in the slush.”

When the whole picture emerged, it became agonisingly clear that the Busby Babes as the world had come to know and love them, the flower of a nation’s football youth, were no more. Seven players died at the scene and an eighth, the incomparable Duncan Edwards, succumbed to his injuries in the Rechts de Isar Hospital some two weeks later.

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Though every death was equally agonising for families, friends and fans to bear, somehow the demise of the affable young Midlander symbolised the scale of the calamity with particularly stark clarity.

When Jimmy Murphy, who had missed the Belgrade expedition because he had been managing Wales in a World Cup qualifier against Israel, arrived at the hospital to see the survivors, Edwards was still fighting for his life.

An emotional Murphy went to his bedside, close by Matt Busby, who lay comatose in an oxygen tent with only a thin flicker of life: “The big fellow, the best player we ever had at Old Trafford, opened his eyes momentarily as I approached, and even then he had a word for me,” recalled Murphy. “‘What time is the kick-off on Saturday, Jimmy? I can’t miss the Wolves match.’ I patted him as I choked back the sobs.

‘Okay, son... don’t worry.’ That’s all I could think of saying.

We all knew how desperately ill Duncan was. And even if he had lived, it was doubtful whether he could play again. But as he lay dying, nothing could quench the great spirit and courageous heart of this boy.”

Charlton, one of Edwards’s closest comrades, was utterly inconsolable at his loss. Though reeling mentally, Bobby had escaped serious physical injury in the crash and soon returned to his family home in Ashington, Northumberland, for what proved a brief convalescence.

“The worst moment was when my mother came into my room and said, ‘Duncan Edwards died, son.’ I could hardly 31

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bear it. When I’d first arrived in Manchester... Duncan, everyone’s great young hero, had made a point of looking after me. In the army he had made an effort to find me a comfortable mattress, and that was just the opening statement of his friendship. One day he gave me one of his shirts, saying it fitted him a little tightly, but I suspect he had noted what passed for my wardrobe... he was fantastic and I loved him.”

As for Matt Busby, despite his horrendous wounds, and the fact that a priest had administered the last rites to him, there were some grounds for hope. Murphy again: “After three days he was moved into a private ward, still in his tent.

The surgeons felt he might live, but no one except those of us close to him, who knew his strength of character, ever felt he would be a force again in football.”

The cause of the Munich Air Disaster took a fearfully long time to determine. At first, accusing fingers were pointed at Captain Thain, whom it was alleged did not ensure the wings of the plane were free from ice. But Thain – who died in 1975 – battled for many years through four tortuous inquiries, always maintaining his dignity while declaring his innocence.

Eventually he cleared his name when the official cause was recorded as a build-up of melting snow on the runway, which prevented the plane from reaching take-off speed.

Such details mattered in that knowledge of them might prevent another tragedy. But for Manchester United, and the Babes, there remained nothing but to count the cost in lost lives and shattered futures.

32

Manager Matt Busby (centre) is pictured with coach Bert Whalley (left) and assistant manager Jimmy Murphy, in 1957.

Seven of the eight players who would lose their lives pose for a team photo. Back row (l-r): Duncan Edwards, Bill Foulkes, Mark Jones, Ray Wood, Eddie Colman, David Pegg; Front row (l-r): Johnny Berry, Billy Whelan, Roger Byrne, Tommy Taylor, Dennis Viollet. Geoff Bent (inset) also died in Munich.

Captain Roger Byrne holds aloft the First Division Championship trophy at Old Trafford at the end of the 1955/56 campaign.

Ray Wood saves under pressure from Real Madrid’s Alfredo Di Stefano in the first leg of the 1956/57 European Cup semi-final.

The Busby Babes line up alongside each other for the final time – a 3-3 draw away to Red Star Belgrade in the European Cup quarter-final, second leg on Wednesday 5 February 1958.

The wrecked, snow-covered fuselage of British European Airways Flight 609, which was carrying 38 passengers and six crew members, at Munich-Riem Airport.

The front page of the Daily Sketch newspaper reports the tragic news back in England the following day.

The journalists and club staff members who were victims of the crash. Top row (l-r): Alf Clarke, Frank Swift, Henry Rose, Archie Ledbrooke; Middle row (l-r): George Follows, Donny Davies, Tom Jackson, Eric Thompson; Bottom row (l-r): Walter Crickmer (club secretary), Bert Whalley (coach), Tom Curry (trainer).

Manchester United forward Bobby Charlton lies injured at Rechts der Isar Hospital in Munich, as his progress is assessed.

A police guard of honour salutes the victims as a British European Airways aircraft prepares to carry many of the coffins back home.

The first Old Trafford match programme following the tragedy – against Sheffield Wednesday on 19 February 1958 – begins with a message from the chairman that ‘United will go on...’

Captain Bill Foulkes leads the makeshift United team out against Sheffield Wednesday on a hugely emotional night at Old Trafford.

Matt Busby is assisted back to the dressing room at Wembley after the 1958 FA Cup final, which United lost to Bolton Wanderers.

Ten years on from Munich, Bobby Charlton lifts the European Cup at Wembley, completing the symbolic rebirth of the football club.

Players and supporters observe a poignant minute’s silence at Old Trafford to honour the 50th anniversary of Munich in 2008.

Every year on 6 February, crowds gather outside the south-east corner of the stadium to remember those who lost their lives.

C h a pt e r

FO U R

NEVER FORGOTTEN The Munich Air Disaster cost the lives of 23 people, including eight Manchester United players and three long-serving members of the club’s staff. Here are profiles of those who perished and those who survived…

T H O S E

W E

L O S T

GEOFF BENT Classy full-back Geoff Bent was a 25-year-old Salfordian who only made the trip to Belgrade as last-minute cover for Roger Byrne, who was carrying a slight injury ahead of the game with Red Star. As it happened, Byrne recovered in time for the tie in Yugoslavia and so Bent was denied a first senior appearance of the 1957/58 season.

Bent was a comprehensively equipped defender, aggressive in the tackle, pacy and composed, an accurate passer and versatile enough 33

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to operate on either rearguard flank. Nevertheless, life in the skipper’s shadow, with only a dozen senior outings over three years, must have been frustrating. Especially as there were plenty of observers who reckoned he deserved to be in the team on merit, and a widely received perception that he would have walked into any other team in the country.

Roger Byrne A superlative left-back and a natural leader of men, Roger Byrne was, but for Munich, a fair bet to captain club and country for many years to come.

Early in his career he had been an unremarkable wing-half, then he was switched to the left wing, but he never truly shone until he was tried at the back during a training session.

Byrne’s principal asset was speed, both physical and mental, and it was understandable that Matt Busby moved the self-assured Mancunian back to the left of attack when the Reds’ title challenge appeared to be slipping in the spring of 1952. He responded by netting seven times in six games and pocketed the first of his three title medals, but soon reverted to the no.3 slot, where his intelligent reading of the game was priceless.

In 1954, Byrne was called up for international duty. He went on to win 33 consecutive caps, and at the time of his death, shortly before his 29th birthday, looked a certainty to succeed Billy Wright as England skipper.

Eddie Colman Wing-half Eddie Colman was a bubbly imp of a footballer, a diminutive bundle of creative energy dubbed ‘Snakehips’ by newspapermen for his mesmeric body-swerve. A crowd-pleaser supreme, he played the game with the jauntiest of swaggers, and it was easy to see where team-mate Harry Gregg was coming from when he remarked that when Colman swayed, the Old Trafford stands swayed with him.

A sublimely inventive passer adept at bending the ball around stranded opponents, Eddie was brimming with brio, his confidence matching his lavish range of skills, and he was a magical dribbler, too. He didn’t score

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many goals – only two in 108 outings – and there was a theory that he might have been a luxury in a lesser side, but that was never tested. It seemed to the majority of observers that the effervescent Colman was destined for a bountiful international future when he was cut down, way before his prime, at the age of 21.

DUNCAN EDWARDS The touchstone of the Busby Babes and a footballing phenomenon.

Operating as a defensive midfielder who broke up opposition attacks, then surged forward to devastating effect, burly Midlander Duncan Edwards was in the side aged 16 and an England regular two years later.

There was no attribute that Edwards lacked. Fearsomely powerful and endowed with limitless stamina and unshakeable certainty of purpose, he was a ball artist with either foot – one who passed like a dream, shot like a cannon and read the game like a professor.

It’s easy to exaggerate from the distance of decades, but the judgments of Matt Busby and Bobby Charlton bear testimony to the uniqueness of ‘Big Dunc’, who was only 21 when he died. His manager called him the most valuable member of a single team that he’d ever witnessed, while his chum Charlton asserted: “If I had to play for my life, and take one man with me, it would be Duncan Edwards.” His like will not be seen again.

MARK JONES Mark Jones was a study in opposites. Off the pitch he was a gentle, charming family man who liked nothing better than tending his beloved pigeons. But on the field he was a crushingly dominant traditional centre-half, commanding in the air, fearless in the tackle and always ready to look after a team-mate in trouble.

Yet, while there was nothing fancy about the big, blond Yorkshireman’s approach to defending, he was no crude hoofer, usually looking to play a sensible pass to one of his more gifted pals rather than dispatch an aimless punt. Invariably, the genial Jones employed the simple approach

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to all things, but his professional life was complicated by an ongoing battle for United’s no.5 shirt with the far more stylish Jackie Blanchflower.

First one man would hold sway, then an injury would give the other a chance, which he tended to take with relish. Who would have prevailed if Mark had not lost his life aged 24? It’s anybody’s guess.

DAVID PEGG The sight of David Pegg in full flight was beautiful to behold. The slim, sinuously elegant outside-left appeared to glide over the ground no matter how cloying the surface, ghosting past tacklers as if they were fence posts with the merest dip of a shoulder or shimmy of the hips.

His balance and control were impeccable and had he not perished at the age of 22, he was a racing certainty to add to the sole England cap he was awarded in 1957. Indeed, there were plenty of shrewd contemporary judges who saw him as the long-term successor to the brilliant Preston North End veteran, Tom Finney, which was rapturous praise, indeed.

Pegg made his senior entrance as a 17-year-old in 1952, then honed his trade in the reserves before returning to do regular battle with his perennial rival for the left-wing slot, Albert Scanlon. David was out of the team at the time of Munich but there is no doubt that his enchanting skills would have earned him a recall at some point.

TOMMY TAYLOR Manchester United’s laughing cavalier, Tommy Taylor was one of the finest out-and-out spearheads of any generation. It wasn’t only the jolly Barnsley boy’s 131 goals in 191 appearances for the Reds following his £29,999 transfer from his hometown club in 1953 which made him special.

Taylor was phenomenally courageous, knowing no contemporary peer at aerial combat – he could smack the ball with his head as powerfully and accurately as many could kick it – and he was a superb all-round athlete who would chase lost causes tirelessly. Such was the growing appreciation of Taylor’s ability that after the 1957 FA Cup final, in which

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he nodded United’s goal in the defeat to Aston Villa, Internazionale made the then-astronomical offer of £65,000 to sign him. Matt Busby rejected the bid out of hand, declaring that Tommy was not for sale at any price. He was only 26 when he died, having struck 16 times in 19 England outings yet still on the threshold of his pomp.

BILLY WHELAN Nobody ever had a bad word to say about Billy Whelan, or Liam as he tended to be known in his native Dublin. Both professionally and personally, he was beloved, an inside-forward who delivered 52 goals in only 98 games for United and one of the gentlest, most unassuming characters it’s possible to imagine.

True, while his ball control was magnetic and his shooting savage, his shimmy bewitching and his stamina exceptional, Billy’s brain invariably moved faster than his legs. Pace was not Whelan’s forte but, with a bevy of speedsters among the team, that was never going to worry Matt Busby.

Spotted shining for Dublin’s Home Farm FC, he was signed in time to replace the injured John Doherty, another delightful artist, in the 1953 FA Youth Cup final against Wolves, and he starred in both legs. Thereafter, he touched rarefied heights, and though he had been ousted by Bobby Charlton during 1957/58, it was seen as inevitable that the extravagantly gifted 22-year-old Irish international would come again.

WALTER CRICKMER (club secretary) Walter Crickmer was one of the most loyal and influential Manchester United servants in Old Trafford history. A livewire little man, always enthusiastic in the Reds’ cause and clearly a born administrator, he became secretary in 1926 and, though never named as boss, he twice took charge of team selection during managerial lapses, in 1931/32 (along with scout Louis Rocca), then from 1937 until the end of the war. Crickmer’s amazing industry was matched only by his modesty and warmth, and his input into Matt Busby’s youth revolution was immense.

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TOM CURRY (trainer) Few knew football as intricately as Tom Curry, who had shone as a wing-half in the fine Newcastle side of the 1920s, and he proved adept at passing on his expertise after joining the Reds as trainer in 1934. A quiet fellow of unimpeachable integrity, he treated star performers and the greenest rookies exactly alike, standing no nonsense but ever ready to offer support if a lad was in trouble. Indeed, he was ready to cover for latecomers to training, providing they put in the effort to make up for it.

BERT WHALLEY (coach) A lovely character, Bert Whalley was a generous, knowledgeable father figure to a generation of young United footballers, offering the perfect contrast to the tempestuous approach of the volcanic Welshman Jimmy Murphy. Not that Lancastrian Whalley was a soft touch, demanding a high standard of behaviour and performance from his callow charges, but he was always ready with a friendly word. Before the war, he had served the Reds as a centre-half, turning to coaching after suffering an eye injury. A lay preacher, he wrote his sermons on bus rides to and from Old Trafford.

__________ The Munich Air Disaster was not just a tragedy for football but also for sports journalism. Eight of those who perished were reporters following the continental adventures upon which the Busby Babes had embarked...

ALF CLARKE (Manchester Evening Chronicle) Once on United’s books as an amateur, as he put it: ‘There’s only one team in this city and you can’t write enough about them.’ Always a sharp dresser, he was also a brilliant pianist and a snooker champion.

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DONNY DAVIES (Guardian) Wrote under the pseudonym ‘Old International’, which was appropriate as he had played for England at amateur level. A familiar figure in his cloth cap and plus-fours trousers, he was also an expert broadcaster.

GEORGE FOLLOWS (Daily Herald) Arguably the most accomplished writer of those who perished, rejoicing in a refined style and cutting wit. A miner’s son, he was earthy but literary.

TOM JACKSON (Manchester Evening News) Alf Clarke’s friendly rival in the eternal quest for Manchester scoops, and equally dedicated. A cheery fellow with a breezy, happy-go-lucky outlook but who knew his craft well, he glowed like a fan when United won.

ARCHIE LEDBROOKE (Daily Mirror) He almost missed the trip to Belgrade because he hadn’t finished an article on Blackpool boss Joe Smith. He could seem a tad quiet, even remote, but was always ready to help a young reporter in need.

HENRY ROSE (Daily Express) He wrote with flair, his provocative words producing heated discussion.

Fearless in his opinions, he was massively popular. When it rained at his funeral, a colleague wrote: ‘Even the skies wept for Henry Rose today.’

FRANK SWIFT (News of the World) The former Manchester City and England goalkeeper had been a flamboyant entertainer in his playing days, and he didn’t alter his approach as a scribe. His infectious laugh lit up any gathering and Swifty, an old City team-mate of Busby, knew the game intimately.

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ERIC THOMPSON (Daily Mail) He took his journalism seriously and loved a laugh. There was invariably a chuckle within his words, but never any malice. Eric was a subtle composer of sentences, once described as the J B Priestley of journalism.

__________ There were four others aboard the ill-fated flight who lost their lives...

CAPTAIN KENNETH RAYMENT The co-pilot and a pal of Captain James Thain, he was a first-class flyer with bags of experience who would never have sanctioned taking a risk over safety. He had flown Manchester United to Bilbao a year earlier.

TOM CABLE The cabin steward, Tom was a kind and friendly presence who spared no effort to do his work efficiently.

BELA MIKLOS The travel agent who had made an impeccable job of organising the trip, he was an accessible character who paid attention to every last detail.

WILLIE SATINOFF A friend of Matt Busby and a hugely enthusiastic United supporter, he was a Manchester businessman and a racehorse owner.

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T H E

S U R V I V O R S

JOHNNY BERRY An extreme rarity for a winger in the 1950s, Johnny Berry was as tough as any hulking full-back who might take the rash option of trying to kick him out of the game. Never one to shy away from anything on the pitch, Berry would bite back, competing to the last, and United fans loved him for it.

Signed from Birmingham City for £25,000 in August 1951, he helped win that season’s league title as a relative youngster in an experienced side, then became an invaluably mature influence as he took his place among the Babes, picking up two more championship medals in the process.

Berry was a pacy raider down the right flank, a precise crosser, a predatory finisher and a staunch clubman who never let the team down.

Aged 31 and recently dropped in favour of the rookie Kenny Morgans, he never played again after being severely injured in Munich.

JACKIE BLANCHFLOWER As a character, Jackie Blanchflower could charm the birds off the trees, and he played his football in the same beguiling fashion. After leaving his native Belfast to follow brother Danny over the Irish Sea, signing for United in 1949, he made rapid strides.

Skilful, clever and industrious, he made his senior entrance as an 18-year-old wing-half in 1951, then flourished as an inside-forward, readily making and taking goals, before developing into an elegant centre-half when competition for attacking roles became increasingly frenetic. A fabulous athlete, he impressed as emergency goalkeeper in the 1957 FA Cup final and would not have disgraced himself in any position.

Eventually he vied for the no.5 shirt with the more overtly physical Mark Jones. At the time of the disaster, Jackie was on the sidelines, but

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the likely eventual outcome of the fierce professional duel between two close friends was far from clear. Alas, Blanchflower’s injuries prevented his return to football.

BOBBY CHARLTON Bobby Charlton is arguably the most revered sporting icon these islands have ever known, a quiet north-easterner as modest away from the action as he was majestic in the thick of it.

Whether lining up as a striker, a left winger or a midfield general, he brought to the game a graceful combination of silk and dynamite which took the breath away. Bobby fired the imagination of fans the world over because he played football the way they wanted it to be. When he drifted past a couple of markers and hammered the ball into the net from 30 yards, it was poetry in motion.

Beyond that, even in his waning years, somehow he communicated a boyish sense of wonder that he was being paid for doing what he loved so dearly. For club and country, he won virtually every honour available.

No wonder he became an international institution.

BILL FOULKES There are a lot of very hard men in football... and then there’s Bill Foulkes! So went a heartfelt tribute from Bobby Charlton to his fellow Munich survivor and the man whose United record of nearly 700 games he eventually outstripped.

Bill was a Reds bulwark both in the worst of times and the happiest; a flinty full-back when the Babes were rampant, a crucial block in the rebuilding process after Munich, and finally an implacably resolute centre-half as trophies galore, including the European Cup, were garnered in the 1960s.

A former coalminer who won his only England cap a day after a shift at the pit, he admitted he was the least skilful member of United’s team, but he was its most ruthless by a distance, being phenomenally fit and

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utterly dedicated to his work. Above all, his manager Matt Busby always believed in him – and that was more than enough.

HARRY GREGG Big, bold and famously forthright, Harry Gregg was a goalkeeper ahead of his time when he was signed from Doncaster Rovers for a world-record fee of £23,500 as a replacement for Ray Wood in December 1957.

Whereas his predecessor preferred to remain on his line, the flame-haired Ulsterman aimed to dominate the penalty box, charging through friend and foe alike to claim the ball.

Arguably too courageous for his own good, perhaps even verging on the reckless at times, Harry suffered horribly from injuries throughout his career, and often wasn’t fully fit when he did play. Despite spending nearly a decade at Old Trafford, when he left for Stoke City in 1966, he had not collected a single club honour, which was a travesty given his remarkable prowess. There was recognition, though, when he was voted top goalkeeper at the 1958 World Cup finals in Sweden as Northern Ireland reached the quarter-finals.

KENNY MORGANS Even among the Babes, Welsh winger Kenny Morgans cut a markedly youthful figure. Slender, quick and clever, he was in the team on merit at the time of Munich, having surprisingly replaced the battle-hardened Johnny Berry as results stalled, and before the crash had enjoyed a six-week purple patch which suggested a top-notch future.

But although Kenny escaped serious physical injury in the accident, he understandably struggled to recapture the form and confidence which had fuelled his rapid rise. It was a conundrum because with much of the competition for places tragically removed, he had been expected to thrive.

Possibly he was overwhelmed by the trauma, or maybe he needed longer for mental scars to heal before resuming senior duty. Morgans bowed out of Old Trafford in March 1961, sold to Swansea Town for £3,000.

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ALBERT SCANLON The absence of a long Old Trafford chapter in the tale of Albert Scanlon’s career was perplexing. The locally-born left winger was positively dripping with talent, a dashing crowd-pleaser who, on his day, terrified full-backs out of their wits. When he pushed the ball beyond his would-be marker and galloped after it, he was a thrilling sight.

Albert recovered from serious head and leg injuries suffered in the crash to score 16 goals as an ever-present as United finished as title runners-up in 1958/59, then he shone again in 1959/60, only for Bobby Charlton to be switched to the left flank, providing unbeatable competition.

Scanlon was always a free spirit, something of a dreamer – he was known to his team-mates as Joe Friday, after the detective hero of the TV series Dragnet, because of his curiosity and capacity for fantasy. Soon after being replaced by Charlton, he was on the move, joining Newcastle United for £18,000 in November 1960.

DENNIS VIOLLET When Manchester United greats are the subject for discussion, the name of Dennis Viollet should always be considered. He was as gifted and resourceful a marksman as was to be found in Britain, despite a gaunt frame that verged on the skinny. Searing pace, immaculate skills and a deadly instinct for finishing, which enabled him often to pass the ball into the net with pinpoint accuracy, rendered him exceptional, and it was frankly ridiculous that he collected only two England caps.

Dennis was a heaven-sent partner for the more rumbustious Tommy Taylor, with whom he enjoyed a near-telepathic link, but he proved himself in his own right after his strike partner’s death, grabbing 32 league goals, a club record for a season, in 1959/60.

Despite netting 179 times in 293 United games, Dennis opted to join Stoke for £25,000 in 1962. Though he missed the return of glory days at Old Trafford, his gleaming contribution remains undimmed by time.

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RAY WOOD Ray Wood must have been the paciest goalkeeper in England. The 18-year-old, for whom Matt Busby paid Darlington £5,000 in December 1949, had been a professional sprinter, dashing for cash in the pit villages of his native north-east. Now he employed that fleetness of foot to telling effect between the posts as a line keeper who could move like lightning to repel shots.

After making his debut during an injury crisis shortly after his arrival, Wood was stood down to hone his skills in the reserves before claiming a regular senior berth during 1953/54. Thereafter, he helped to secure two league crowns and earned international recognition, his athleticism matched by his bravery, but his expertise on crosses was called into question and in 1957 he gave way to the world-class Harry Gregg. A £1,500 switch to Huddersfield Town followed for Wood in December 1958.

MATT BUSBY (manager) Has there ever been a manager more synonymous with one club than Matt Busby with Manchester United? Hailing from a humble mining village in Lanarkshire, he exuded an indefinable presence, an aura of quiet dignity and absolute authority that inspired loyalty in nearly all his players – those who kicked against him were soon shown the door, no matter what their status – as well as reverence among the fans.

When Busby accepted the United job in 1945, he inherited a cashstrapped outfit with a bombed-out stadium, and instantly he breathed fresh life into the place. Bucking the trend by wearing a tracksuit to training sessions, he fashioned three exceptional sides, his first consisting of mainly experienced players, then came the irrepressible Babes and finally the wonderful combination featuring the glorious trinity of Bobby Charlton, Denis Law and George Best.

Invariably espousing entertaining football, Busby presided over FA Cup success in 1948 and the 1951/52 League championship with his first great team, then demonstrated the steel and judgement to demolish it

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and replace it with Duncan Edwards and company. Having lifted further league crowns in 1955/56 and 1956/57 with his precocious youngbloods, a decade of dominance beckoned. But then came the Munich Air Disaster, which almost killed him, before he defied belief by building his third magnificent edifice. In the process, Busby garnered the FA Cup in 1963, league titles in 1964/65 and 1966/67, and finally his holy grail: the European Cup, won against Benfica at Wembley Stadium on 29 May 1968.

__________ The others who survived in Munich were: Captain James Thain, pilot Bill Rodgers, radio officer Margaret Bellis, stewardess Rosemary Cheverton, stewardess Frank Taylor, News Chronicle journalist Peter Howard, Daily Mail photographer Ted Ellyard, Daily Mail telegraphist Vera Lukic, pregnant wife of a Yugoslavian diplomat Vesna Lukic, Vera Lukic’s baby daughter Eleanor Miklos, Bela’s wife Nebojsa Tomasevic, Yugoslavian diplomat

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C h a pt e r

FI v e

RENAISSANCE

W

ith Matt Busby still not much more than a hair’s breadth from death as he commenced the long, agonising, overwhelmingly weary process of recovering from the grievous injuries he suffered in Munich, and with more than a full team of crack players either gone or unfit to play, the task facing Manchester United caretaker manager Jimmy Murphy in February 1958 was Herculean.

As well as coming to terms with his own misery and dismay at the loss of so many close friends, it was his ­responsibility to ensure that the Reds did not sink without trace in the immediate wake of the tragedy, and that the foundations were laid for a long-term future.

At first glance the prospects looked uncompromisingly 47

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bleak. Not only had so many of the Babes been ripped away, but he was also shorn of his two right-hand men, Bert Whalley and Tom Curry, a void he addressed by re-enlisting former Reds goalkeeper Jack Crompton from Luton Town to work as trainer.

United’s next two league matches were postponed, but still Murphy had less than a fortnight to drag together a side to meet Sheffield Wednesday in the fifth round of the FA Cup. Experience was in desperately short supply, but the authorities waived the rule preventing players from representing more than one club per season in the competition and United acquired combative wing-half Stan Crowther from Aston Villa – ironically he had faced the Reds at Wembley a year earlier – and the veteran Blackpool schemer Ernie Taylor.

Beyond that, other clubs were loath to release key men, so it was a make-do-and-mend line-up which faced the Owls on a night of near-hysterical emotion at Old Trafford.

The team sheet in the programme for the game on 19 February was left blank, with the fans left to ink in the following names: Harry Gregg, Bill Foulkes (captain), Ian Greaves, Freddie Goodwin, Ronnie Cope, Stan Crowther, Colin Webster, Ernie Taylor, Alex Dawson, Mark Pearson and Shay Brennan. The front page featured a poignant message from chairman Harold Hardman: “Although we mourn for our dead and grieve for our wounded, we believe that great days are not done for us... the road back may be long and hard but... Manchester United will rise again.”

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It was a horrendous situation for the Wednesday players, who simply didn’t want to be there. They felt like intruders at a private wake and were shadows of their normal selves as they were beaten comfortably by United’s impromptu mishmash of youngsters, reserves, fresh recruits and two men, Gregg and Foulkes, who were still traumatised by the events in Bavaria.

Murphy’s Marvels won 3-0, with two goals from 20-year-old rookie Brennan, a midfielder who would develop eventually into a classy right-back, but who was pressed into service on the left flank for the first time in his life. As he reflected later: “I had as little idea about playing on the wing as the man in the moon.”

In the unreal weeks that followed, the severely depleted Reds battled on bravely, boosted hugely in early March by the comeback of Munich survivor Bobby Charlton.

Understandably, United’s league results were poor, with only one win in the 14 games that remained of the season, but in the FA Cup they defied all logic, somehow defeating West Bromwich Albion and Fulham, both after replays, to reach the Wembley final against Bolton Wanderers.

Sadly, but inevitably, the task of overcoming such doughty opposition as Nat Lofthouse and company proved beyond the Reds, who succumbed to a 2-0 defeat. But a miracle had been accomplished in getting so far in the face of such colossal odds, and the abiding memory of the afternoon was of a heart-rendingly fragile Matt Busby hobbling along the 49

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touchline with a walking stick, although Murphy had led the team on to the pitch at the national stadium.

Despite a controversial Lofthouse goal, Bolton deserved their victory, and somehow the ailing United boss mustered the strength to limp into the Trotters’ dressing room to personally congratulate every one of their players.

Yet despite losing on the big day, Murphy, who had been staggered by the spirit and endeavour of his young charges as they were swept to Wembley on a wave of emotion, found hope for the future. He was overjoyed to note that Matt, despite his pain, was gripped by the atmosphere: “The old gleam came back into his eyes. We had lost the FA Cup – but we had won back our manager.”

Unbelievably, given all United had been through, the season was not over. Only five days later, AC Milan arrived at Old Trafford for the first leg of the European Cup semi-final, and United confounded all predictions by beating the mighty Italians 2-1. Thus another impossible dream hove into view, only to be splintered brutally at the San Siro, where Milan overwhelmed their valiant, overstretched visitors, netting four times without reply.

What followed in 1958/59 was extraordinary. Despite severely reduced resources on both the training ground and pitch, somehow the new United finished as runners-up in the championship race, admittedly six points adrift of Wolves but a remarkable five clear of third-placed Arsenal.

The substantially incapacitated Busby – who had overcome 50

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genuine doubts about continuing with his job, being assailed by feelings of undeserved but understandable guilt about leading so many of his Babes to their deaths – had put together a free-scoring forward line which compiled a century of league goals, while thrilling fans with its swashbuckling approach.

That buccaneering attack boasted new faces in right winger Warren Bradley, recruited from non-league Bishop Auckland, and inside-right Albert Quixall, who broke the British transfer record when he was signed from Sheffield Wednesday for £45,000 in September, while centre-forward Dennis Viollet, inside-left Bobby Charlton and left winger Albert Scanlon were already star performers.

However, for all the optimism engendered by that initial bold post-tragedy flourish, it was abundantly clear that a major rebuilding job was necessary. Accordingly, Matt embarked on steady reconstruction, bringing in ferociously abrasive wing-half enforcer Maurice Setters from West Bromwich Albion for £30,000 in January 1960, then the vastly experienced and engagingly articulate Republic of Ireland full-back Noel Cantwell from West Ham for £29,500 at the end of the year. Busby then added prolific Scottish centre-forward David Herd, a £37,000 recruit from Arsenal in the summer of 1961.

But all that investment produced only two seventh-place finishes in 1959/60 and 1960/61, followed by an alarming drop-off to 15th in 1961/62. Times were tough at Old 51

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Trafford and the rebuilding process was never likely to be a smooth one, but Busby rose to the challenge, showing all his managerial genius.

Recognising that the Reds were in dire need of a fresh spark, Matt did not hesitate to shatter the national transfer record again by paying the Italian club Torino £115,000 to sign his dazzling fellow Scot, the devilishly brilliant striker Denis Law. Like the contrastingly placid Charlton, Law was undeniably a world-class talent, a predatory inside-forward endowed with sumptuous ball skills, a razor-sharp scoring instinct, astounding physical courage for such a slightly built individual and a puckish presence which delighted the fans, who adored the outlaw streak so apparent in the Scot’s game.

Not that United suddenly transformed into a team of world-beaters without a period of testing transition. For much of 1962/63 – during which the club’s stock of pedigree performers was further bolstered by the signing of the exquisitely creative yet combative Celtic wing-half Paddy Crerand – the Reds were at the wrong end of the First Division table, escaping relegation by a mere three points.

But there was rich consolation in the FA Cup. Making nonsense of those league travails, the Reds reached the final, in which they outplayed high-flyng Leicester City, United’s fluent passing movements flitting like sunshine across Wembley’s velvety green carpet. On an afternoon which proved a definitive watershed in United’s fortunes, Crerand 52

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directed midfield operations with sublime certainty and precision, passing the ball like a god, while Charlton offered touches of genius, John Giles and Quixall probed brightly and Herd knocked in two goals.

But the crowning glory was the incandescent Law, his quality illuminating the occasion like a flash of summer lightning, summed up by the magnificent opportunistic strike, set up by Crerand, which put his side in front on the way to a cracking 3-1 victory. Thus Busby’s reconstruction efforts over half a decade had been handsomely vindicated and now his footballers, the supporters and the entire sporting world understood that the Manchester United bandwagon was gathering meaningful momentum for the first time since Munich.

The team that day was goalkeeper David Gaskell (Gregg was fit again after injury and was rather unlucky to miss out), excellent Irish full-backs Tony Dunne and skipper Noel Cantwell, a beautifully balanced half-back line of Crerand, Foulkes and Setters, and a quicksilver attack featuring Charlton and the wickedly intelligent, deliciously skilful Dubliner Giles on the flanks, Quixall beavering in midfield and Law and Herd at the front.

Not that serial silverware was the immediate upshot. A 4-0 thumping by Everton in the Charity Shield underlined that there was still plenty of work to be done, and the manager reacted by giving more rookies a chance, with winger Ian Moir, inside-forward Phil Chisnall and striker 53

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David Sadler – who would go on to make his name as a central defender – being afforded extended first-team sequences before stepping back down.

Still, the 1963/64 campaign, in which United improved dramatically to finish as championship runners-up to Liverpool, and in which Law’s prodigious return of 46 goals in 42 games earned him the European Footballer of the Year accolade, was the one in which the team that would go on to greatness began to settle into a regular shape. Brennan returned at right-back in place of Cantwell, with Dunne switching defensive flanks to the left, and in the spring, Nobby Stiles replaced Setters as Foulkes’s sidekick at the rearguard’s core.

But it was a pair of further developments which truly fired the imagination of the Old Trafford faithful. Charlton was granted his heart’s desire of forsaking the wing for a roaming midfield slot, in which he combined enchantingly with Crerand, and in mid-September, for the visit of West Bromwich Albion, Matt introduced a scrawny waif-like teenager from Belfast who would soon be lionised the world over. George Best had already captivated Old Trafford insiders – he took his life in his hands by selling repeated dummies to the fiery Gregg in a training game – but at this point he had no public profile. By the season’s end, perceptions had changed radically. Though United fans were gutted by knockouts in the FA Cup, at the semi-final stage to West Ham, and to Sporting Lisbon in the European Cup 54

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Winners’ Cup after taking a 4-1 quarter-final first-leg lead, they were ecstatic about the thought of Best combining with Law and Charlton in the years ahead.

And rightly so. Never before had any British club boasted three such exceptionally talented individuals, and there has been no such celestial collaboration in these islands ever since.

The beauty of it all was that they complemented each other so completely, rarely getting in each other’s way. Charlton’s prime territory was centre-field, from which he sprayed fabulous passes, wrong-footed opponents with gazelle-like dashes, worked himself silly and packed a cannon-like shot in either foot. Law was at the sharp end, a crackling buzz-bomb of a finisher with spellbinding reflexes, every skill in the book, bravery to the point of foolhardiness and a raging will to win. As for Best, he was everywhere and had everything, pretty much the perfect player. How fitting it was that Bobby emulated Denis’s Ballon d’Or in 1966 and that George took the prize two years later.

With the selflessly industrious and skilful outside-right John Connelly – a £56,000 purchase from Burnley, with whom he had already been a title winner – added to the mix, the Reds gelled compellingly in 1964/65 to claim a first league crown since the air crash.

A more surprising role in this triumph was taken by Pat Dunne – no relation to his Irish countryman Tony – a little-known goalkeeper picked up for a song by Busby from Shamrock Rovers – who took advantage of fitness issues 55

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suffered by Gregg and Gaskell to become an admirably reliable regular, for one season, between the posts.

Now, unequivocally, United were back, and their return to grace might have been even more emphatic but for two maddening semi-final defeats. They lost an FA Cup replay to Don Revie’s Leeds, whom they had pipped for the title on goal average, the complicated predecessor of goal difference for splitting teams on the same number of points. In Europe, the Reds tasted play-off defeat at the hands of Hungarian club Ferencvaros in the Inter-Cities Fairs Cup, the forerunner of the modern Europa League.

Busby, who continued to soldier on, often in physical discomfort as a legacy of Munich, was never one to gloat over his successes but, as Foulkes recalled, he positively glowed over his club’s sixth league championship: “Matt had been to hell and back. I know that he had considered quitting, but then somehow dredged up the resources to continue, perhaps believing that he owed it to the club and the memories of those who had passed. Here was proof positive that, once again, he was in charge of the best team in England. It had been a wonderful combined effort by players and staff, and it was only now that we truly believed that Manchester United had been reborn as a major force.”

The feeling at Old Trafford was that there were even better times ahead, and season 1965/66 produced further evidence that Busby had, indeed, produced his third genuinely great side. Despite a squad of limited size, which meant too 56

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many of the lads played on with niggling injuries instead of taking a rejuvenating rest, once again the Reds tilted for a sensational Treble.

In the end they finished comfortably behind Bill Shankly’s Anfielders in the First Division after fitness problems caused chronic loss of impetus, but there was still further semi-final despair, at the hands of Everton in the FA Cup and, even more upsetting, to Partizan Belgrade, when deprived of Best and with several of his team-mates limping, in the last four of the European Cup. The season had been lit up, however, by what arguably remains United’s finest ever display in continental competition, the 5-1 quarter-final triumph over Benfica in Lisbon’s Stadium of Light. That was the night on which Best proved himself among the top two or three footballers on the planet, devastating the famous Eagles with an unstoppable early two-goal burst after his boss had advised initial caution.

Busby’s ultimate ambition remained the European crown, and to qualify for another attempt United needed another domestic championship, which they attained in 1966/67. By now there was an infusion of new regulars, such as Sadler, usually in midfield at this point, plus winger John Aston Jnr – his father, also John, was a stalwart of Matt’s first fine team – and Alex Stepney, who had made the vital difference according to the man who paid another world-record fee for a goalkeeper, this time £55,000, when he had signed him from Chelsea in the autumn. There was a fourth newcomer, 57

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too, the ill-fated full-back Bobby Noble, perhaps the most promising defender in England, who made 29 consecutive appearances that term before a car accident ended his career at the age of 21.

And so to 1967/68, in which Matt Busby finally lifted the prize for which he had yearned so long from the bottom of his heart. Wins over Hibernians of Malta, the Yugoslavians Sarajevo, Gornik Zabrze of Poland and, in an epic semi-final, the old friends Real Madrid, set up a European Cup final showdown with Benfica at Wembley.

Wretchedly, the talismanic Law was injured for the big day, leaving the blue-shirted Reds to face the illustrious Eusebio and company with a line-up which featured Stepney in goal; central defenders Foulkes and Stiles between full-backs Brennan and Dunne; Crerand and Charlton scheming in midfield, aided by the versatile Sadler, with Aston on the left wing; Brian Kidd – who was celebrating his 19th birthday – as the spearhead and Best in his customary ungovernable free role.

After a goalless first half, Charlton nodded United in front only for Jaime Graca to equalise. Eusebio might have won it near the end of normal time, only to be thwarted by a terrific instinctive save from Stepney. To extra-time, when Best, Kidd and Charlton struck in the first period to ensure Manchester United became the first English winners of the European Cup and that Matt Busby had completed the gruelling quest which had obsessed him.

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Charlton, who had shared the entire adventure from the previous decade with his manager, with Murphy and with Foulkes, likened the closing stages to a visit to paradise. “I was tired, weary to my bones, but there was still strength to lift George from his feet when the last goal went in. When the last whistle went, Matt was engulfed and pandemonium reigned. The gathering dusk of that balmy evening was split by the flashes of what seemed a thousand cameras.

“It was enough to faze anyone, let alone a man who had been through so much, given so unsparingly of himself. I almost felt the need to check Matt was all right but, seeing his wide grin, I held back until the hectic activity around the Old Man had calmed down a bit. Eventually I reached him and gave him a long hug. There was absolutely no need for words.

“It had been his pioneering team that had been devastated on the European trail and this was their symbolic rebirth.

Tears were shed, and nothing could bring back the lives that were lost, but here, at least, was some sort of balance, perhaps even a degree of closure. Somehow Munich would have had a different significance for Manchester United if we hadn’t won at Wembley on that tumultuous night.”

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C h a pt e r

S I X

EPILOGUE

T

he Munich Air Disaster has bequeathed a legacy that will live as long as Manchester United itself.

Whatever its ups and downs on the field, there is about the club a timeless aura of indomitability, spiced with a quest for youthful excellence and an almost mystical bonding with the fans, a sense of identity forged in collective suffering, that will always endure.

In truth, the seeds of this unique spirit had already been sown by inspirational manager Matt Busby and his almost evangelically enthusiastic assistant Jimmy Murphy long before the calamitous accident on a slushy Bavarian runway on the ill-fated afternoon of 6 February 1958.

The combination of joy, freedom and extreme skill which 60

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characterised his first great team in the years immediately after the Second World War, and which was magnified by the exuberant Busby Babes, who stepped up so precociously to replace it in the subsequent decade, had already become an indelible part of the Old Trafford psyche before the catastrophe.

But when 23 people, including eight wonderful young footballers and three of their wisest mentors, perished so unexpectedly, the eyes of the world locked on to Manchester United with a fascination that has never waned. Through that darkest of days, the club became known in virtually every corner of the globe, and out of that has evolved the mammoth institution we know today.

It is always easy to rhapsodise about the dead, but what made this tragedy so heart-wrenching was the youth of so many of its victims, and the sense of what might have been had their lives not been snuffed out so prematurely.

That ethos took on tangible form on the balmy Wembley evening in May 1968 when the Reds finally won the European Cup, with two Munich survivors, Bobby Charlton and Bill Foulkes, in the team, and another, the soon-to-be Sir Matt, still at the helm. There was an inescapable feeling of tragic romance, and that has passed into folklore.

It was encapsulated by one of the most excited men in the stadium that night, reserve coach and future first-team boss Wilf McGuinness, himself a former Babe: “It was 10 years since the crash and Matt’s new team had won the trophy for 61

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the boys who had died while blazing the trail into Europe.

We were all overcome with emotion and empathised totally with our manager, our leader, the man we had come to love.

We understood the heartache he had suffered, losing so many of his fine young men, and although nothing could ever bring them back, this triumph stood as a fitting tribute to their memories... something noble which he had started had come finally to glorious fruition.”

Fast-forward 40 years and those sentiments were as potent as ever, and as the 50th anniversary of the tragedy loomed in February 2008, Sir Matt’s countryman and successor as boss, Sir Alex Ferguson, who had done so much to enhance the Old Trafford tradition, believed that his current squad of players needed to experience them.

To that end he asked Bobby Charlton along to the club’s training ground to explain the very meaning of Manchester United; he wanted Cristiano Ronaldo, Wayne Rooney and the rest to understand the full depth of pain that had been incurred, the nature of the redemption that followed and the extent of their privileged inheritance.

Ferguson’s plea to his great friend was this: “Tell them about Munich, Bobby. Tell them about the makings of this place – tell them what was passed to them so many years ago, before they were born, and what they should represent every time they go out on to the field. Tell them what it really means to play for this club.”

Though Sir Bobby has spoken publicly of Munich so many 62

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times down the decades, often he is still overwhelmed by emotion so that the tears well up unbidden. But he made the effort, and when he began to reminisce, and to explain, his heirs to the red shirt were rapt in their attention. As Ferguson revealed afterwards: “You could hear a pin drop.”

Though there were some tales he could not bear to tell, Charlton spoke with a moving sincerity: “I told them of my fears when the crash happened, how I worried for so long that the club they now play for might just disappear.

“In 1956, Manchester United had been told they couldn’t play in Europe... try to imagine that today. The club defied the authorities, and for those of us who were sent on the adventure, it was a kind of paradise, which made what happened in Munich so much more drastic. I tried to tell today’s players that a lot of pioneering had gone on in this place – and it was done at such a price.”

Such straightforward eloquence was immensely touching, as was a similarly heartfelt address to the club’s new generation of youth footballers, given at the same time by Nobby Stiles.

Old Trafford offers a variety of lovingly mounted memorials to those we lost, notably the exhibition in the Munich Tunnel below the South Stand (now the Sir Bobby Charlton Stand), including the Eternal Flame which burns for the 23 victims, and the Munich Clock at the south-east corner of the stadium, which portrays the date of the accident. And, of course, the statue of the great man himself, Sir Matt Busby, whose contribution to Manchester United’s transformation 63

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is incalculable. Surveying the scene from its position on the face of the East Stand, ­appropriately on Sir Matt Busby Way, thousands upon thousands of fans pay homage to it on every matchday at Old Trafford.

But while such tangibles ensure a prominent reminder of the Munich Air Disaster, the tragedy is indelibly tattooed on the soul of Manchester United; it is part of our identity.

When Sir Matt Busby led this club into Europe, those early forays were the embodiment of adventure and ambition, qualities which might have been extinguished when doused in such harrowing tragedy. Instead, Busby, his board, staff and players rebuilt a club redoubled in its determination to thrive, scars and all, and they succeeded. Those who died did not do so in vain; on our darkest day they became an eternal flame, a guiding light for all which would follow.

Thrilling young talent, pulse-quickening drama and relentless ambition are hallmarks of Manchester United, but none more than indefatigable resolve; an immortal spirit forged when we hung in the balance in Munich.

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