Manchester United versus Real Madrid – Wednesday April 24th 1968 Manchester United versus Real Madrid. It is a fixture that whets the appetite from the very first second that you hear about it. The very thought of such a game generates so much excitement, expectation, and promises so much to the fans of both clubs. Given the history of these two great clubs who are arguably the greatest two football clubs in the world, it has to be in my opinion, the biggest club fixture in world football. United had first met Real Madrid in the semi-final of their first European journey back in the season 1957/58. That journey culminated in United being eliminated by an aggregate score of 5-3, but despite that defeat, a strong bond of friendship had been established between the two clubs. United’s precocious team of young “babes” had rattled the Madrid maestros in that tie, and it was only their young naivety in the second leg, and some questionable refereeing in the first leg, that hastened their departure from that year’s competition. The Spaniards had a wonderful team at that time with legends like Munoz, Marquitos, Zarrago, SantaMaria, Kopa, Rial, Gento, Mateos, and the incomparable Alfredo di Stefano. Real (meaning ‘Royal’ in Spanish) come from the very up market area of the Charmartin district of Madrid, and have their home in a magnificent stadium named after their President whose vision took them to their fame, Senor Bernabeu. Back in those days that stadium was such an imposing sight, and made the best of English stadia of the time look decidedly second rate. It was built of white concrete and stone – tier upon tier, and they seemed to reach up to the heavens. There is room for some 135,000 fans inside this splendid arean and on the big match days, it becomes a throbbing, incandescent mob of football humanity. Real is a club in the truest sense of the word and the huge Charmartin complex houses restaurants, library, concert hall, trophy museum, drawing rooms all lavishly equipped with the finest of furniture and antiques, and bedecked by flowing crystal chandeliers. Outside of the main area, the club caters for swimming, track and field athletics, pelota and tennis. Spain’s first ever Wimbledon men’s Champion, Manuel Santana, learned his game in this complex. But it is football which is the main income provider, membership fees being a second distant source. The friendliness between the two clubs was forged from that first European Cup encounter. The following year, 1957/58, both sets of fans eagerly looked forward to the prospect of the teams locking horns in the competition once again. From the Manchester United point of view, the challenge was relished, and there was no shortage of confidence in the camp about whether or not they would be able to knock Real off their perch as the number one club in European football. Sadly, the tragic events of February 6th, 1958 put paid to their aspirations and it wasn’t to be. Although UEFA did invite United to take part in the European Cup competition in 1958/59 as a special dispensation, the Football Association, after sanctioning in a letter dated 5th July 1958, their approval of United’s entry into the competition, completely reversed their decision on the 29th August 1958. In a letter to the Club (who had also fought and won, the case with the Football League authorities) they used the excuse that as the competition was for Champion Clubs only, United did not qualify and as such, should be excluded. Obviously, some skullduggery had occurred at the Football Association Headquarters under the guise of their Consultative Committee, and it was suspected by many at Old Trafford, that this was a further attempt by certain Club Chairmen to hammer another nail into United’s coffin. Notwithstanding this disappointment, the bond of friendship between Manchester United and Real Madrid strengthened with Real, making room in their busy fixture calendar to accommodate a series of friendly matches to be played on a home and away basis between the years 1959 – 1962. It was a great fillip for the Club and this was a tremendous gesture by the Spaniards. There were some entertaining games during this period - one in particular in Madrid that finished 6-5 to United – that is if my memory serves me right! After the 1963 F.A. Cup win though, United were back on track to face the best in Europe once again, and they won the First Division title in 1964/65. This gave them the right to play in the European Cup again in the 1965/66 season, and that campaign went so well up and until the semi-finals. In the first round they beat the Finnish Champions, H.J.K. Helsinki by an aggregate 0f 9-2, then accounted for the West German Champions, A.S.K. Vorwaerts by a 5-1 aggregate. In the quarter final tie of the competition, United played Benfica. The second leg of that tie being the one in which they turned in that marvelous performance in Lisbon to win 5-1 and go through to the semi-final stage on an aggregate of 8-3. It meant that they had scored 22 goals in the competition whilst only conceding 6! I honestly believe that Manchester United should have won the European Cup that year. Left in the semi-final draw were United, Inter Milan, Real Madrid and Partizan Belgrade. On paper, Inter were certainly the stronger team out of the quartet. Real bore no resemblance to the team that United had faced some nine years earlier with Gento being the sole survivor of those heady days. The draw paired United with Partisan Belgrade. Unfortunately for United, they seemed to suffer some kind of psychological hangover in the first game against the ‘Slavs and underperformed, losing 2-0. They also lost George Best to an injury that necessitated a knee operation and put him out of the crucial second leg. At Old Trafford, the second game degenerated into a kicking match because of the highly questionable physical tactics that Partizan employed. Paddy Crerand eventually erupted and reacted to a terrible tackle upon him and was promptly sent from the field. Although Nobby Stiles did score, the ‘Slavs held on and went through to the final on a 2-1 aggregate. It was such a disappointing end to a campaign that had looked so promisingly. In the final that year, Real beat Partizan 2-1 and Francisco Gento collected his sixth European Cup winner’s medal – he also played in three losing finals! So in three European Cup campaigns, United had fallen at the semi-final stage each time. Were they ever going to reach the Holy Grail that they sought? The Firs tDivision Championship was won again in 1966/67. The following season the European campaign started with a tie against Hibernians of Malta and they were dispatched on aggregate 4-0. In the next round they again had to travel to Yugoslavia, this time to meet Sarajevo whom the beat on aggregate 2-1. The quarter final tie paired them with the Polish team, Gornik Zabrze and the first leg at Old Trafford was a ding – dong affair, with United throwing all but the kitchen sink at the Polish team, It took just over an hour of relentless battering before they opened the breach, and then it was with the help of an own goal. Francis Burns, the young United full back got free down the left hand side. His hard driven cross was deflected into the net by Florenski the Gornik centre half. It was an uneasy lead, especially with the prospect of the trip to Poland looming. In the dying minutes, young Brian Kidd was able to force home a second to give United a little breathing space. The second leg should never have been played. In fact, Matt Busby didn’t want the game to go ahead, as did all the players – except one! For two days before the game was to be played, the snow fell, The pitch was a blanket of snow – but lying underneath the snow was compact ice – it was treacherous! The only player wanting to play was Best! The Poles were desperate for the game to go ahead and said that they would sweep the pitch and put salt on it – it wouldn’t be perfect – but would be playable! Apart from the risk of serious injury to his players, Busby did not want to risk the hard fought lead to a lottery which included ice skating! The referee, Concetto Lo Bello decided the pitch was fit to play so it was game on! United defended like demons on that treacherous surface. The snow fell and after ten minutes or so, it was almost impossible to see the red line markings. It was a bitterly cold March evening and even the Polish fans, hardy miners from the local region, were given to lighting bonfires on the terraces in an effort to keep out the biting chill. Late on in the game Lubanski, the Gornik star player, did get free to score, but United held out stoically and when the final whistle blew, advanced to the semi-final on a 2-1 aggregate. The semi-finalists that season were United, Benfica, Real Madrid, and Juventus – four giants in the soccer world if ever there were! Whatever the pairing, it was going to be tough! The draw was made – United were paired with Real Madrid – the first time that they would meet in serious competition since those two games back in 1957. It was a mouth watering tie for the fans to look forward to. The first leg was played at Old Trafford on Wednesday, April 24th 1968. The previous Saturday, United had beaten Sheffield United at home in a League game, and as was Busby’s usual ploy, he took the players away to Blackpool for a few days. For the fans, the excitement mounted, especially those that had been lucky enough to save enough programme tokens in order to purchase their ticket for the game. I was living in Wlitshire at the time, and can remember making the long train journey back up to Manchester. A lift by car from a friend in Devizes, to Chippenham station, then a connection to Bristol Temple Meads. Connect to Birmingham New Street, then to Crewe, and finally to Manchester Picadillly. It was a sod of a journey, but I didn’t mind as I was ecstatic at the thought of seeing the game. My ticket had been purchased for me by a good friend named Mike McNally, and I met up with him, and a few other mates in the Shakespeare pub in Fountain Street, which is down by the side of what used to be Lewis’s store in Manchester's city centre. The spirit was good amongst us and we were all optimistic that this would be our year. A few hurried pints and then it was off to Old Trafford. We caught one of the bus “specials” from Portland Street, and arrived at old Trafford around 6p.m. Already there was hordes of fans around and once again, the adrenalin, the excitement, the expectation, churned within my stomach. We walked down what was then Warwick Road. Just before the railway bridge there used to be a café named the United Café, and we dived in there to alleviate our hunger. We stood eating pies just outside the café and watched as the fans arrived in their hordes. “Holy Joe” (the Pastor from Carrington Church) and his brother, passed bearing their placards telling us that the end was in sight! Hopefully it was – and for us that meant Wembley in May! The banter was good as the passing crowd looked forward in anticipation. The band of buskers was playing just a few yards in front of us and the sound of their music could be heard above the rumbling of the oncoming fans. There was an accordion player, banjo player, saxophone player and a one-legged man on crutches holding an old trilby hat collecting money. Pennies, ha’pnies, were willingly donated by the passers by, and you could hear the chink, chink, chink, as they landed on top of other coins inside the hat. All of a sudden, there was a commotion among them, as an old guy appeared with what appeared to be a spray gun. It was as you can imagine quite, different from the sprays that we see today. This contraption had a long neck and handle, with a canister fitted to the stem at the bottom. It was operated by holding the canister and pumping the handle up and down to discharge the cannister’s content. It turned out to be a can of “Flit” which was used for exterminating household pests like flies etc. The guy holding the spray attacked the banjo player spraying the substance all over the back of his head. In a broad Scots brogue you could hear him shouting at the banjo player; “You chatty bastard, you chatty bastard, I’ll get rid of them if the it’s the last thing I do!” The music stopped obviously, and the banjo player tried to take evasive action but all he succeeded in doing was knocking over the one legged man holding their hard earned pennies. The assailant continued his assault with the “Flit” on the banjo player’s head as the other two buskers helped the one-legged man and also tried to recover their earnings. The banjo player’s head was by now covered in a coat of thick white powder and he violently shock his head trying to get rid of it, showering people passing by with this obnoxious substance. It turned out that this guys hair was full of lice and one of their band had had enough and was determined to get rid for him! The scene was like something out of “Keystone Cops” and we stood outside of the United Café just pissing ourselves with laughter watching the whole episode take place! We left the café and made our way to the Stretford Paddock. Already the “Stretty End” was quite full and in full voice and the atmosphere was buzzing. It was, for those that will recall, one of those “special” European nights. The clock ticked towards 7:20p.m and then there was a slow growl that erupted into a roar as the two teams made there way out onto the pitch side by side. The teams lined up; United: Stepney; Dunne, Burns; Crerand, Sadler, Stiles; Best, Kidd, Charlton, Law, Aston. Real Madrid; Betancort; Gonzalez, Zunzunegui; Zoco, Sanchis, Pirri; Grosso, Jose Luis, Perez, Velazquez, Gento. Madrid had done their homework, and for 80% of the game United attacked them as they had Gornik in the previous round. Madrid put a tight defensive wall up in midfield with Zunzunegui, Zocco, Grosso, Sanchis, and a withdrawn Jose Luis sitting in front the sweeper Gonzalez. United battered away and Sanchis was the player who obviously had been given the task of looking after George Best. However, after 35 minutes, John Aston broke down the left going towards the Scoreboard End and got on the end of a long raking pass from Brian Kidd. Aston pulled the ball back diagonally from the goal line and Best, shrugging off Sanchis’ attentions was like lightning as he hared in to meet the ball, and he thundered a left foot drive high into the Real Madrid net. The thing that I remember most about that moment was that as the fans exploded in a cacophony of noise, a frightened cat appeared out on the pitch, and bolted the full length of the field! This was United’s only success that evening and no matter how hard they battered away at the Madrid defence, you had to admire the way that Real played in a relaxed, confident manner, stroking the ball around, working for space and repelling the almost incessant pressure. Pirri was magnificent that evening, but it was a real contest, and United gave their all. They did miss a few chances and Kidd hit a post late on. The crowd had played their part roaring them on, and when the final whistle went – it left us all apprehensive at having to go to Madrid with just a solitary goal lead. Would the semi-final hoodoo be the undoing of United again? Not many journalists were willing to back United in the return leg which was scheduled for May 15th at the Bernabeu. Myself and Mike made our way back into town and we managed to get the last pint at the Wellington pub just off Piccadilly. I said my goodbyes to him outside the pub and made my way back to Piccadilly Station to catch the overnight train which was going to Plymouth, although I would be getting off in Bristol. It was a long journey to make to get back to Devizes and I finally arrived there at 7:30a.m. on the Thursday morning – tired, but happy in the knowledge that United had won, and were at least taking a lead to Madrid, and so, had one foot inside the twin towers of Wembley. I’ll always remember that semi-final tie at old Trafford for the incident with the buskers and the cat running the length of the field after United had scored. For most fans they could never have envisaged the drama that the second leg would bring - but that’s another story!