It is the Golden Anniversary of May 5th, 1973. 50 years, eh? That amazing day in London when the Dutch band Focus recorded their ‘Live at the Rainbow’ album. I wasn’t there that evening when they came on stage at The Rainbow, but I was in a pub raucously celebrating Sunderland’s win over Leeds in the FA cup final.
As a young 15-year-old I had managed to be at all but the first of the cup games in 1973 that took them to Wembley. Most memorable for me was a classic Roker Park night when we beat Manchester City in a replay after holding them to a draw at Maine Road. The North Sea haar was blowing over the ground and the stadium was rocking under the floodlights. Vic Halom scored that night - what I think was the best goal I have ever seen. Maybe I got carried away with the atmosphere, maybe the fog clouded my view from the Fulwell. Or maybe it simply was the best goal ever. You can find a blurry YouTube video of that game – you should check it out and judge for yourself. Great memory of the big win in the semi-final too when we beat Arsenal at Hillsborough in Sheffield. What I remember about the first Sunderland goal (Halom again) is that it barely crept over the line - I do believe the collective inhalation of the Sunderland fans behind the goal was what pulled the ball over the goal line. The famous Bob Wilson was in goal for Arsenal that day and managed to hit his groin on the post at one point. We all thought that was very funny!
So, unbelievably, the team from the second division was going to Wembley for the Cup Final. There was a nervous wait for tickets, but the gang of us from Bishop Auckland all managed to get them and so we were set.
My memories of the whole day are fuzzy and disjointed, frankly, so there is not a great narrative to this story. Just bits and bobs. I woke that morning pre-dawn, and gathered up my red and white paraphernalia and set off to collect our group as we headed down to back Bondgate in Bishop Auckland to get the OK bus. First I collected Gren, then Clarkey, followed by Sobs and Dunny – we weren’t all that creative with nicknames. I remember a black cat crossed our path on the way to the bus – that felt like a good omen though I can’t speak for the others I was with, but I honestly didn’t think Sunderland could beat the mighty Leeds. I was just looking forward to a grand day out. Maybe I was just preparing myself for the disappointment – but that was a black cat! My negativity seemed unfair to the lads who had got us to the final against the odds and against two first division clubs - and unfair to the Messiah Stokoe who had turned the club around from a near relegation position when he joined earlier in the season. I don’t think it is a plot spoiler to say I was happily wrong.
At the bus station we met up with Tommer and Poss and our merry party boarded the bus and headed south at six in the morning. I remember we stopped at a service station where we bumped in to Leeds supporters. Banter was friendly – I think they were pretty confident.
This was my first trip to London, and we went to a café near Euston Station for some eats before heading to Wembley. I had my five quid note that was to get me through the day, and was holding it out when someone pinched it out of my hand. My heart sank but some cockney geezer handed it me back, saying “let that be a lesson for you my sahn – people will nick anyfink off you daan ‘ere”.
I remember the walk up Wembley Way – lots of singing and, something that featured throughout the rest of the day, masses of red and white. I feel like we outnumbered the Leeds supporters about 10 to 1 and that is how it looked in the ground too. We were in the Sunderland end but even at the other end there were pockets of red and white (among those was my dad, Stan, and Uncle Eddie) and all the supposedly neutral parts of the ground were decked in red and white too. We got our assigned spot – it felt quite luxurious compared to what we were used to at Roker Park - and the pre-match festivities began. I remember a track race on the pitch in which David Bedford, wearing red and white socks, and Belgian Emile Puttemans tore round the perimeter. There were the Dagenham Girl Pipers (lots of wolf whistling) and then Frankie Vaughan doing his famous high kick and leading us through Abide with Me. We sang our hearts out (fortunately the words were in the programme).
And then the game. This is really where I don’t trust my memory. Partly because I have watched the recorded game many times. I do remember the intensity. Micky Horswill had a shot within the first few minutes and Richie Pitt clattered ‘Sniffer Clark’ – we were off to the races. What I do remember was hope rising as it seemed we were matching Leeds United - even dominating. When Sunderland struck in the 31st minute it was all a blur. I just remember (and you know that I have watched that goal a 1000 times on the telly) the ball coming over, bobbling around and then the back of the net bulging. We were ecstatic – who had scored – oh, Porterfield!
And then more of a blur. I can’t even remember half time happening. And then the longest 45 minutes of my life. I do remember the moment when all seemed lost – when hot-shot Lorimer seemed to have the goal at his mercy with our goalie – Jimmy Montgomery – laid on the ground after magnificently saving a Cherry header. Again, it was only after watching TV replays that we could see what had happened – Monty had somehow sprung back up, cat-like, and diverted the goal-bound shot on to the bar. What a man.
When the final whistle blew we were in ecstasy – every player on the team had had a great game. Leeds were good but somehow it was Sunderland’s day, and we were better – it felt like the whole country wanted it and the players couldn’t let us down. I remember cheering the team and manager as they did their lap of honour, watching little Bobby Kerr lifting the cup and finally filing out back along Wembley Way. As we headed out, I recall a couple of Leeds supporters jeering at us for looking so unhappy and being so quiet. They were sort of right – I think we were all a little in shock (perhaps I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t expected this).
So, we all ended up in a pub, drinking and partying the evening away (yes, I can admit it now – our group were all only 15 or 16 years old, but I don’t think anyone cared). What was generally a blurry memory of the day became even blurrier as the evening progressed, though I know I had a lot of fun. My stand-out, vivid, memory of the pub was a life-sized Crimean War soldier dummy in full dress uniform in a glass case.
After closing time we went to find the bus at (I would never have found it on my own) and then long drive back to Bishop with pee stops. Not sure what time I got home (maybe three or four in the morning) but I fell in to bed. Mam woke me at two in the afternoon – I could have slept longer but she knew I would want to relive the game on Shoot with the legendary Brian Moore (he of “they came down from the North East with hope, and they go back with the FA Cup” fame). Cup of tea, slice of toast and my dog, Snap, sitting at my feet wearing a red and white scarf – he was a black and white dog, but I forgave him.
By the way that Focus album ‘Live at the Rainbow’ is still one of my favourites, and I can’t decide whether to choose Sylvia from Focus for my funeral, or ‘Sunderland All the Way’ by Bobby Knoxall.
