https://gameofthepeople.com/2020/01/04/the-fa-cup-it-all-started-with-the-daily-mirror-2/
THE FA CUP used to be VERY special. The final was listed as part of the social season in Letts diaries, a status that didn’t mean much to the man on the Highbury terrace, because “social calendar” meant the blazered types that turned up at major sporting events such as test matches, Ascot and Wimbledon without having too much interest in the sports themselves.
The FA Cup was a “grand day out” for the supporters of the participating clubs as far back as the late 19th century when the final was held at the Crystal Palace. Hordes of fans travelled down to south London – many via special trains – to see the match and often make a weekend of it. This peaked in 1913 when 120,000 saw Aston Villa play Sunderland.
In the post-WW2 years, the FA Cup final became a glorious celebration of the national game. And with the arrival of TV, millions perched in front of their boxes to see the climax of the season – although for many years, the final was not actually the last game of the campaign.
In the 1960s, with commercial and public sector broadcasting in full swing, the FA Cup final dominated both day and night viewing. Both BBC and ITV screened the final live, virtually the only game that did appear live in its entirety. The two competing channels often began their coverage as early as 10 or 11am. ITV even introduced a pre-final programme that asked, “Who will win the Cup?”.
Why did post-match interviews on TV always include players with bottle of milk?
The destination of the “little tin idol” was hotly debated in the week up to the big day. We all have our FA Cup final memories and for me, it started in 1967. Condovers camp site in East Tilbury, a sort of cub scout jamboree. Usually on cup final day. Tottenham v Chelsea. I especially remember one skinny, pock-marked kid sticking his nose in my face as we tried to glimpse the game in a huge marquee and telling me, “I hate that bloody Johnny Boyle”. John Boyle, one of the lesser known Chelsea players from the era, was on the Chelsea side that lost 2-1 that day. It was noted in the press that he was born on Christmas Day. From that final, I became a Chelsea supporter, but equally importantly, I became a big fan of the FA Cup.
A year later, the FA Cup final featured West Bromwich Albion and Everton. Chelsea had surprisingly been beaten by second division Birmingham City in the quarter-finals, thanks to a header from Fred Pickering. I was distraught. I had seen Chelsea slalom their way past Ipswich Town, Norwich City and Sheffield Wednesday and was convinced they would be returning to Wembley. My wall chart had been prematurely filled in to reflect a final for Dave Sexton’s men.
But the final of 1968 was the first I can recall well. In particular, we were all told that Jeff Astle, West Brom’s centre forward had scored in every round. He did it again in the final and became part of FA Cup folklore. Just as the final had been the catalyst for me in choosing my club of choice, the 1968 final was the moment my brother chose to support Albion and, for some reason, Clive Clark.
A year later was my real initiation into televised FA Cup final day. I remember it well because on the morning of April 26, 1969, my Dad had helped our neighbour, Danny, smoke out a family of rats from his extremely long garden shed. Danny lit a fire inside the shed and the rats came coughing out of the door, where my Dad bashed them on the head with a spade. A very scientific approach to pest control!
After this exercise, Danny offered my Dad a couple of bottles of Manns’ Brown Ale and asked if he was watching the Cup final. In between that neighbourly exchange and the match itself, Danny fell out with his very attractive wife, Carol, and was locked out. My Dad offered our living room as a grandstand seat for the final, although he hated football. But armed with Brown Ale and an ample supply of Rothman’s No. 6, my Dad (and Danny) sat through Manchester City 1 Leicester City 0. I was never offered any Brown Ale.
THE FA CUP used to be VERY special. The final was listed as part of the social season in Letts diaries, a status that didn’t mean much to the man on the Highbury terrace, because “social calendar” meant the blazered types that turned up at major sporting events such as test matches, Ascot and Wimbledon without having too much interest in the sports themselves.
The FA Cup was a “grand day out” for the supporters of the participating clubs as far back as the late 19th century when the final was held at the Crystal Palace. Hordes of fans travelled down to south London – many via special trains – to see the match and often make a weekend of it. This peaked in 1913 when 120,000 saw Aston Villa play Sunderland.
In the post-WW2 years, the FA Cup final became a glorious celebration of the national game. And with the arrival of TV, millions perched in front of their boxes to see the climax of the season – although for many years, the final was not actually the last game of the campaign.
In the 1960s, with commercial and public sector broadcasting in full swing, the FA Cup final dominated both day and night viewing. Both BBC and ITV screened the final live, virtually the only game that did appear live in its entirety. The two competing channels often began their coverage as early as 10 or 11am. ITV even introduced a pre-final programme that asked, “Who will win the Cup?”.
Why did post-match interviews on TV always include players with bottle of milk?
The destination of the “little tin idol” was hotly debated in the week up to the big day. We all have our FA Cup final memories and for me, it started in 1967. Condovers camp site in East Tilbury, a sort of cub scout jamboree. Usually on cup final day. Tottenham v Chelsea. I especially remember one skinny, pock-marked kid sticking his nose in my face as we tried to glimpse the game in a huge marquee and telling me, “I hate that bloody Johnny Boyle”. John Boyle, one of the lesser known Chelsea players from the era, was on the Chelsea side that lost 2-1 that day. It was noted in the press that he was born on Christmas Day. From that final, I became a Chelsea supporter, but equally importantly, I became a big fan of the FA Cup.
A year later, the FA Cup final featured West Bromwich Albion and Everton. Chelsea had surprisingly been beaten by second division Birmingham City in the quarter-finals, thanks to a header from Fred Pickering. I was distraught. I had seen Chelsea slalom their way past Ipswich Town, Norwich City and Sheffield Wednesday and was convinced they would be returning to Wembley. My wall chart had been prematurely filled in to reflect a final for Dave Sexton’s men.
But the final of 1968 was the first I can recall well. In particular, we were all told that Jeff Astle, West Brom’s centre forward had scored in every round. He did it again in the final and became part of FA Cup folklore. Just as the final had been the catalyst for me in choosing my club of choice, the 1968 final was the moment my brother chose to support Albion and, for some reason, Clive Clark.
A year later was my real initiation into televised FA Cup final day. I remember it well because on the morning of April 26, 1969, my Dad had helped our neighbour, Danny, smoke out a family of rats from his extremely long garden shed. Danny lit a fire inside the shed and the rats came coughing out of the door, where my Dad bashed them on the head with a spade. A very scientific approach to pest control!
After this exercise, Danny offered my Dad a couple of bottles of Manns’ Brown Ale and asked if he was watching the Cup final. In between that neighbourly exchange and the match itself, Danny fell out with his very attractive wife, Carol, and was locked out. My Dad offered our living room as a grandstand seat for the final, although he hated football. But armed with Brown Ale and an ample supply of Rothman’s No. 6, my Dad (and Danny) sat through Manchester City 1 Leicester City 0. I was never offered any Brown Ale.
