World Cup Brush Up with Danny Baker

Good evening,

and a particular welcome to all of you who said just moments ago,

"Well, I know one TV channel where I can escape the bloody World Cup."

Nope, not a chance.

But come, come, my sport phobic chums, be big about this.

The Greeks did not set out to Troy with such an attitude.

And the fact is, over the next 60 minutes,

there will actually be very little football played.

What we intend to do instead is put under the microscope all

the attended hoopla, rigmarole, folderol

and palaver that comes with this, the most mammoth of modern circuses.

England's here, we're here, this is magic.

The greatest thing in the world!

Tea and toast. And jam.

# Eenie weenie, soccer-eenie Uh-ah-ah

# Hacha-tacha, cucaracha Uh-ah-ah

# Ish billy, rodentoni Unahada rodentoni

# Unahada rodenton Chilly-bop-ow! #

I know they fixed it!

And I got well drunk.

Like lifting the trophy itself, I promise you,

the rewards for all viewers this evening will be lush.

For example, here is a special bonus for everyone currently

watching in 3D.

The ballyhoo for the World Cup is just starting.

Football, football, football.

-The World Cup.

-What World Cup?

I love football like I love my mum.

Will you be watching the match tonight, Ma'am?

Well, I don't know what time it is.

-Eight o'clock.

-Oh, dinner party.

-Will you be cheering on England?

Well, I think one should.

We've won the World Cup once and we got to the semi-final once,

so we're not very good.

-Are you taking your chin to Mexico this year?

-I am indeed.

The World Cup is the greatest competition in the world,

that is in the football world,

and certainly it is a great occasion for all in this country.

Mr World Cup himself, Sir Alf Ramsey,

whose mouth moved like a Thunderbird's puppet

and whose clipped diction was entirely self-taught.

Yeah, an Essex boy by birth, Sir Alf totally reinvented himself

as a minor branch of the Royal family,

and rarely let the mask slip.

Fact - he was once asked where his parents lived, and answered,

"Dagenham, I believe."

I believe!

That's the sort of dedication that won England the World Cup,

because, not sure if you know this, they did win it once.

How? Through rigorous training methods

so advanced we still don't quite understand them today.

THEY YELL

And they're ready!

Ready, set, go!

And they're off!

All the way.

-Hold it, hold it. For God's sake, hold it. Right?

-Yeah.

-Now then...

Oh, my God.

# Mr Ramsey soccer man of England

# Heroes all are they

# We were with them all the way

# Mighty men Let's name them all again

# And sing about them night and day. #

Alf Ramsey took us down to Pinewood Studios,

and Sean Connery was making a film.

# You only live twice

# Or so it seems. #

Yep, in 1966, professional footballers prepared themselves

with horseplay, golf and ligging about with other famous people.

God, we've come a long way.

But just how did we get here?

Well, it's a strange road that has led the game from its crude,

violent cave-man beginnings

right up to the finished article that is Joey Barton today.

In 1390, Chaucer records that illuminated soccer manuscripts

were being painstakingly created by monks in monasteries

as disparate as York and Tintagel.

Tragically, none of these scholars were aware of the toils of their

brethren, and so they were all turning out histories

of Bolton Wanderers.

Football started in England in the 11th century,

when an English peasant, digging in a wood, found a skull,

which he realised must have belonged to one of the hated Danes.

As the Danes had been their former conquerors,

they started kicking the skull around to show their contempt.

Soon, this game called kicking the Dane's head became very popular,

with hundreds on each side,

and the skull was kicked from town to town, causing much damage.

Worse than that,

men were neglecting their compulsory archery practice

to kick the Dane's head.

Between the eighth and 16th centuries,

the Maya Indians and the Aztecs

used to play what was probably one of civilization's first ballgames.

It was called pok ta pok

and it involved keeping a tiny rubber ball off the ground

without using one's hands or one's feet.

This was a considerably more difficult game than football.

Such was the honour of winning this game that the winning captain,

immediately after the end of the game,

went to a religious altar and was decapitated, because the honour

of winning a game meant that you could join the gods immediately.

If it is any consolation to the team captains in Mexico at the moment,

the 20th century gods of soccer are just a little less demanding.

Pok ta pok has since been discredited as a true ancestor

of the modern game,

although the practice of decapitating the winning captain

did survive into the 1950s,

when it finally succumbed to the onslaught of television.

And with TV, came an expansion in the coverage of football,

though obviously we were still a long way from the gung-ho

"England Team Leave For Rio!" mania the modern media churn out.

17 of England's soccer players are seen about to leave

London airport for their flight to Rio for the World Cup contest.

Billy Wright speaks for the team.

The lads are in very good spirits

and I'm going to say that we're going to try our very,

very best to bring the World Cup back to England for you.

Then, off they go, 17 of the best,

and the whole bunch in charge of one air hostess.

Yep, we do like to see our squads at least set out on these foreign

adventures, even if they usually have to sneak back in again

underneath tarpaulins on midnight tugs from Belgium.

There they go!

And where the players lead, their proud army of foot-soldiers

are sure to follow.

It's basically a horse box and we've converted it and, basically,

we've put some, as you've seen, bunk beds in the back

and then we've put a mattress down below.

And I think we sleep seven comfortably.

I've got about 1,000 yen and a handful of shrapnel.

Yeah.

That's all he's got left after travelling thousands of miles

from Hampshire for the World Cup.

The cost of living here has left many destitute,

and Michael is sharing this tiny room in a youth hostel with three

other fans - it's all they can afford.

It's England in the World Cup.

And we're doing superb, the boys are playing well.

And that's where it is, you can't regret it. I'd spend...

I'd spend twice as much.

It's not very wholesome, but it's cheap.

The cheapest packet you can get.

As Michael prepares breakfast, he is desperately hoping a new

credit card will arrive today or he is sleeping in the park.

The credit card never came - a park bench will be Michael's bed tonight.

There will be some with little sympathy for a man who has put

football above food, soccer above sanity.

But for Michael and many others, England's odyssey in the Far East

is something they wouldn't, couldn't miss for the world.

As the excitement builds,

one ten-year-old boy has taken his love of the game a little too far.

Tom Sylvester chose to go bald before his years to

look like his hero Sven.

And here I am.

There are quite a lot of people in the school who dress

up as David Beckham, and I thought, "Heck, Sven would be different."

(SWEDISH ACCENT) "I come from Sweden."

Not only does he look and sound like Sven,

Tom can also play a bit marvellous.

Monterrey has more than mountain views to offer, there is

a pub or the Bulldog spirit still lives on.

Inside, they are doing their best as well.

The reception has impressed one of the first English fans to arrive.

They've treated us, they've treated me, you know, like...

You know.

Just quite, you know?

I've, you know, got respect for them and they've got respect for,

you know, me, even though there is a bad reputation about hooligans.

SHE SINGS

SHE BLOWS A HORN

SHE SINGS

Ole, ole, ole! Ole, ole!

Ole, ole!

Ole, ole, ole, ole!

Ole, ole!

Ole!

The first time I saw that fan in a pram, I was unnerved.

SHE SINGS

Then I realized what we were watching was nothing short

of The Barmy Army meets Samuel Beckett.

Indeed, it is the second most heartening thing ever to happen

in international football. The first is this.

In the final analysis, there was only one memorable shot in the game.

For younger viewers, that clip's not from some knockabout old comedy.

That proud chap, Ken Bailey, was England's mascot

long before mascots where the norm.

All right, he was a bit self-styled and an egomaniac,

but he was a trail blazer,

strutting his stuff for old Albion.

And then, wouldn't you know it, some bloke knocks his hat off

with the remains of a fish and chip dinner.

That's right, pop it back on, John Bull,

but watch out for the saveloys.

Are you getting a glimpse now of why it's the world's greatest trophy?

That said, it's no wonder we do have to clamp down hard

on these hell raisers.

The Spanish police are stressing a low-profile for all

the 30,000 officers who will be involved in policing the World Cup,

a competition that will be all the better

if these men never have to do any work.

Vandalism by football fans is becoming more and more common.

All too often, when they return from the match, they leave behind them

a trail of smashed windows, broken basins and wrecked luggage racks.

Why does this sort of thing happen?

Look at this child.

He has been given a new toy and, at first, he shows it affection.

Along comes an adult and starts to beat the doll around.

The boy watches it all, and now what is he going to do?

He's going to say, "Mum,

"it isn't Yogi Bear's fault that Dad ran off with the au pair."

He's copying the violence he's just seen.

Is this what spectators do?

And we're just getting reports of sporadic violence in Torquay,

Ipswich and London following England's World Cup defeat.

Scotland Yard said they'd been called out

to 18 incidents in London, including youths damaging German-made cars.

Quite honestly, I think it's lack of education.

-Yes, indeed.

-I think it's just the football pitch

is used as a bit of a battleground for it.

Yes, precisely.

Also, don't you think maybe it's where young kids

don't have somewhere to get out aggression?

What they need is somewhere they can punch a bag or something.

They can always go to Millwall.

LAUGHTER

There's a prospect of our football grounds being used as pop venues

and all other stuff that's going on there.

What I'd like to talk about is this. Just a second, ma'am.

She's lovely. What I'd like to say is that...

I just want to say one thing.

I want to talk to the fans on the terraces.

In 1988, I went to see Colin Moynihan

and I agreed on the ID cards.

I was for the ID cards in 1988

and then I went round the terraces dressed as a panda.

Now, I'm the official Football League mascot,

the Panda of Peace,

and what I saw changed my mind.

There's a man there from Millwall.

I've been to Millwall.

If you think there's trouble on the terraces, go to Millwall!

I've been to Arsenal.

If you think there's trouble on the terraces, go there.

There's a man there from Chelsea.

I've been to Chelsea. I've walked 80...

-VOICE INTERRUPTS

-Listen!

I've walked 80 Football League...

Let me talk! Let me say something for the fans on the terraces.

-They never get a chance!

-The fans...

-The grounds today...

THEY TALK OVER EACH OTHER

The family enclosures today, Robert...

Are you looking at what you're doing?

Just a minute, are you talking for the fans?

The fans that I know on the terraces

won't want you doing what you're doing now.

-The fans on the terraces...

-I'm sorry, no!

No!

Absolutely not. You're not speaking for the fans that I know.

-SHOUTING:

-The fans on the terraces...

The Peace Panda there.

Possibly so-called because it's very difficult for him to find mates.

'Fans on the terraces...'

Just why do football fans, and let's not pretend,

male football fans, feel the need to go on a rampage?

Is there not a better way to channel all that aggression?

MATCH OF THE DAY THEME AND TAP-DANCING

No, not that.

That was bordering on the farcical.

Besides, a recent survey carried out amongst fans of Stoke City

showed barely 70% of them cared for interpretive dance,

and less than half that number would attend a Bob Fosse retrospective

if Stoke had a match on the same day.

No, we need something a little more sympathetic to the terrace mindset.

We were flattered very much the other day when the telephone rang

and who should be on the other end but Peter Shilton.

He was ringing, not to ask us to play for Leicester City.

He wanted John and me to go and join him on one of his training sessions.

'Peter uses an assault course at the camp

'for the first part of his programme.

'Here he trains under the careful eye

'of PT instructor Sergeant Major Scott.'

A bit more spring in your jump. Come on, jump up!

Yeah, good, well done.

'The assault course is only the beginning of Peter's day.

'The really exhausting part of his training

'comes afterwards in the gym.'

Sprint! Let's see you sprint.

Five, six, seven,

eight, nine, ten...

THEY YELP AND GROAN

Come on, get it down. That's it, yes.

All right, change over, change over.

Over the top, come on. Right over the top.

Push it out, push it out.

Come on, lads, come on.

GROANING

A bit more effort!

-I'm falling off.

-Last one.

GENTLE POP MUSIC

Pete, thanks very much for letting us join in in your training.

It's been a hard day, though, hasn't it?

Yes, well, I think you need to work very hard

to be a professional footballer, John.

I'm sure you do, Peter.

Thanks very much for coming along on Blue Peter today.

Good luck to you and Leicester for the rest of the season.

-Thanks very much, and I enjoyed it very much.

-Good.

Better, but wasn't that a bit steamy for Blue Peter?

Let's find out.

This is my gay friend from Tennessee, Baylen Leonard,

who you may recall advises me on any homoerotic subtexts

I might not have registered.

-Baylen, you're not much of a football fan, are you?

-I am now.

-But you wouldn't recognise Peter Shilton, would you?

-I would now.

And I take it you're not really a Blue Peter viewer, then?

I am now.

Good, here's some more.

One of the most unusual artists

we've ever come across is Sylvia Gardiner,

who specialises in three-dimensional fabric portraits

like this model of Prince Charles,

which she brought to the studio two years ago.

Well, now, Sylvia, by working out things from old tights

and bits of foam rubber,

has finally decided to turn her hand to a famous sporting face -

Kevin Keegan, the fourth-division Scunthorpe player

who's risen to the dizzy heights of captain of England

and European Footballer of the Year.

Now, Sylvia is really a stickler for detail

and looking at this model of Kevin,

I really think she's surpassed herself

with those familiar, wavy locks,

the friendly smile and, of course,

Kevin is in his all-England strip and if you look closely,

you'll see what I mean about detail - in his V-neck,

you can even see there there's a few hairs on his neck.

In addition to that, Sylvia's even managed to put on

his big gold wedding ring there,

looking very distinctive on his finger.

If we look down the model, you can even see the lump just there -

the outline of his shin pads underneath his socks,

and if I twist one of his elegant feet round,

you'll see he's even got studs on his football boots.

I think the model is an excellent likeness and now it's your chance

to compare it with the real Kevin Keegan himself.

Welcome to Blue Peter, Kevin.

-Delighted to have you with us.

-It's nice to be here.

Well, what do you think of your twin?

It's tremendous - the hair,

there's a few hairs here.

It's almost life-sized, and even down to the boots,

I think she's done a tremendous job with it.

I'm glad you like it, because Sylvia would very much like you

to have it as a present, so let me pass it over to you.

What do you think you'll do with it? On the mantelpiece?

Well, I'd like to put it on the mantelpiece at home,

cos my little girl would probably keep pulling it down

and it'd make up for all the times we're away,

but I don't think my wife would like to see two of us round the house.

Well, top marks to everyone there for getting through that

without rolling about on the studio floor.

Of course, you know who it really looked like?

# My name is Tommy Cooper

# I was sitting in my flat

# I thought I'd make a record

# So I made it...

# Ha! Just like that... #

Kevin Keegan, the real Kevin Keegan

and not the one famously played by Tommy Cooper,

was once, thanks to a slip of the tongue by commentator Brian Moore,

rechristened on live TV as "Keggy Keegle".

Most civilised people call him Keggy Keegle even today.

So, while we're here, let's have another couple of taps of the Keg.

I used to carry the football, I used to...

I used to take my brother as a goal post quite a lot,

stick him in the pram.

Nothing new for him to get hit by the ball in the face

and tell my mum we'd used him as a goal post.

If I'm playing draughts against my little baby, I'll still try and win.

That is the way I'm made.

My loser's medal?

No, you can have it if you want it.

That's how I feel about it.

You really do feel that? You'd give it away?

Well, I wouldn't, cos my mum wouldn't let me.

You can talk to these dogs. This dog understands every word you say.

If I was to say to him now, "Ollie, out",

he'd jump straight off this chair

and he'd go out.

Keegle on the couch, there, displaying that elusive blend

of ease and steeliness that soon saw him crowned King Keg of the Pundits.

And what's more, in an era when punditry was untamed,

raw, where studios were battlegrounds

and every desk a foxhole,

when giants ruled the turf.

I don't think there's a need for any substitute at all at the moment.

I must confess I didn't understand what Brian was saying when he says

it's inevitable that we're going to play all down the left-hand side.

I don't understand that at all.

With the composition of the side.

I don't really believe you can have a player of the ability and skill

of a Trevor Francis stood wide on the right-hand side doing nothing

waiting for balls coming in on the right-hand side...

Er, from the left-hand side.

All right, let's discuss that further after we've taken a break.

The discussion during the commercial break was between John and I

as to why we're playing down the left-hand side of the field

and the fact that he can't see why rather puzzles me,

because we have Sansom, Woodcock and Rix.

Now, John said, "You must have been watching a different game to me."

I'd like him to decide if I have been.

Well, all those people at home are going to listen and say,

"Cloughie's won the European Cup twice, so he must be right."

-John...

-All of a sudden, now...

-Let me just say...

-If it was a discussion and not a row...

I don't want to be between the two of you when there's a row.

Jimmy Greaves pouring oil onto troubled comb-overs there.

Best stay on neutral subjects, like the weather.

How can you talk about a storm

and it not be a hurricane when you have 60-foot oak trees...

..picked out as though it was a bit of watercress

and the whole tops of forests taken off and all levelled?

It's got to be more than a storm, Mike.

I've lived through storms before in my life.

I've lived through everything

and the fact is that the weather people this year

have got nothing right,

absolutely nothing.

If you remember January and February -

"A couple of inches of snow".

I couldn't get in one day

because there was two feet the following morning.

The whole of the summer has been a total disaster.

The biggest problem is that the Met Office now doesn't seem

to be as boring and as efficient as it used to be.

Most of them are too interested in going on Blankety Blank

and bloody Call My Bluff and things like this

and they're paying no attention to the weather.

And the whole thing...

And, if you know, when Trish and the other gink was sat here,

there was no apologies. It was all excuses.

"Oh, well, it's not our fault that we didn't predict this.

"They didn't predict it in Holland." Holland, for Christ's sake?

Have we got to listen to Radio Hilversum now

to get the weather forecast or what?

Jimmy, I understand your anger, but I think we must...

You don't, Mike.

If I came on here and said,

"Right, on Wednesday we've got Minder and The Bill"

and said it week after week,

and we had totally different programmes on,

the Wizard of Oz upstairs would call me in and he'd sack me.

Jack's immediate view was that it was a bad and a dangerous tackle.

Derek believed it was no worse than many he received

in the course of a season.

They argued fiercely on the programme,

and as you'll see, it went on after the programme as well.

JACK CHARLTON: You can have ten quid and we'll run it back on the slow-mo,

we'll get the bets on and I'll take them all.

-DEREK DOUGAN:

-Thanks a lot. Thanks very much.

-I'll take all the bets.

-Thanks very much indeed.

PADDY CRERAND: Diabolical. Do you want to get it on again?

Where do we go from there?

There's no-one in the world watching that can say

he didn't go over the ball.

The thing really is, he's been on the giving side of it.

I was always on the receiving side of it

and I'm absolutely convinced, absolutely convinced,

that that was blatant obstruction.

I think there's a little bit of collusion

-going on here this afternoon.

-No collusion.

-No collusion.

There's no doubt, I will stick to my guns

and I will actually defend Pereira.

I've had one advantage than you -

I've played against the guy for 90 minutes.

I wanted the views of the professionals on the panel,

not the lads behind the cameras, the professionals.

I've got four professionals on my side,

-you've only got yourself.

-You've only got three professionals.

-I've got four.

-You've got three professional

and I happened to talk to...

Half a dozen fellas on the floor agreed with me.

-They're amateurs.

-They're entitled to their opinion.

-They're cameramen, not footballers.

-Sorry, Derek, to break in.

It is inconclusive.

I think the jury has got to be the millions who are watching us

at this moment and I think the idea might be for you

to send us in a postcard to say

whether you're going to vote for Jackie Charlton

or whether you're going to vote for Derek Dougan.

What? Eh?

That is punditry red in tooth and claw,

and 'tache.

And just look what we have today -

an airbrushed, milquetoast, facsimile of an opinion.

Thanks a lot, Gen-Xers.

As Johnny Rotten once said, ever get the feeling you've been cheated?

And by the way, Derek Dougan - hard-man, no-nonsense,

Wolves-leading Derek Dougan.

How come I never noticed he went through a sartorial phase

saluting fellow Belfast cowboy Van Morrison?

MUSIC: "Jackie Wilson Said" by Van Morrison

Anyway, how did that public vote turn out?

We asked you to be the jury and vote,

and the result was...

What about that? That's a massive majority, Derek.

The people were wrong in 1970 before...

Why don't you answer a different question?

They were wrong before the voted for a Tory government

or a socialist government in 1970.

How can you put it to politics?

Then again, I hold my hand up

and I go with the 78% whose judgment I respect and admire,

but I will still stick with the 22%.

I don't believe that was a vicious, over-the-top...

So there you go, the public voted Jack, 78 to 22.

That's a combov... I mean a walkover!

Actually, when you look at the data,

I think I was right first time there.

There you go! Are you deceived, my friends? Are you buying it?

What was that Santana song from the time?

MUSIC: "Oye Como Va" by Carlos Santana

That's the one. Very '70s.

Of course, not everyone in UK sports broadcasting had...

# Oye como va... #

Well, actually...

Well, just to give you a little idea, this is the sort of thing

they've been listening to on their trannies in Rio and Buenos Aires.

RAPID SOUTH AMERICAN COMMENTARY

COMMENTATOR HOWLS

Argentina!

Ar-r-r-r-gentina, uno!

Go-o-o-o-o-o-ol!

Ar-r-r-gentina!

-SINGING:

-Ole! Ola!

HE CONTINUES SINGING

And you lot think you can talk.

You haven't started yet, let me tell you that.

Well, if you sometimes disagree

with the way British commentators operate, just count your blessings -

it could be so easily just like that.

To be fair, you've done really well,

because I thought you would struggle after Take That.

I really did think...

I thought, "Anybody who can't play, who can't write,

"who can't play guitar..."

I thought, "Really struggle."

-Gary Barlow probably kept the band together.

-Ricky Martin!

Hold on, I'm telling you now, you've done brilliantly.

Apart from that, you've got a lot of talent.

Thank you very much. Apart from that, what have I actually done?

You've done brilliantly.

The Angels song was top-class, I have to say that.

British pundit panels -

what we lack in naked Latin passion

we make up for in hopelessly gauche encomiums

that make everyone in the studio wish they were dead.

Then again, who do you think you are, Robbie Williams?

How dare you sit on the soccer sofa!

You were only born in 1974.

We didn't even qualify that year.

If you had any talent at all,

you'd have been nine years old in 1966, like I was.

Oh, it was really something.

We welcomed the world.

Businessmen coming, for example, from Brazil,

will bring their ladies with them and they'll expect decent amenities.

One of the questions I did ask going there was,

"What are the ladies lavatories and powder rooms like?"

I'm sorry to say they were almost non-existent on most of the grounds.

Birmingham, in common with many other big cities in this country,

is not well-off for hotels, considering the size of the city

and the fact that the Queen's Hotel, a first-class establishment

and one of the oldest, is to close in the end of this year,

won't help matters for next July.

Because of the hotel problem,

football clubs have appealed to boarding house keepers.

This room in Sheffield will be offered to fans by Mr Herbert Sykes.

I've seen Sheffield before when there's been a big match on.

They're just walking about like spare parts.

They don't know what to do with themselves.

In Middlesbrough, Mrs Noreen Walters speculates on her guests.

Oh, they don't worry me one little bit.

I'd only be having two or three

and it isn't as though I was going to marry them.

As long as they don't start sleepwalking,

we should all get on quite nicely.

What view, then, do foreign agents take

of the World Cup hotel situation,

and what are they planning to do about it?

We've even spoken with the merchant marine of the Soviet Union

to find the possibility of bringing a ship

for our Soviet tourists to live on board.

We'd also like to charter a boat, like this here,

for the World Championship in England

because of the troubles we have with accommodation in your country.

It would be possible that 800 persons

will visit the three first matches

of the German team and stay aboard the boat at night.

Sheffield's entertainment man is Mr Eddie Holland.

Well, already plans are in hand for a nightclub in the City Hall.

We're going to decorate the streets with flowers

and have illuminations up and bands playing.

I would like to see the shops remain open till ten o'clock or midnight.

We should have umbrellas

and tables in the street so that people can dine outside.

Other things I think might be worthwhile -

we could have a beer garden in the garden next to the town hall,

a girlie show at the Lyceum starting at ten o'clock at night,

but above all, late-night drinking and dining in the hotels

and existing restaurants which we have,

so that they go on till two o'clock in the morning.

On a rather different plane, Councillor Leonard Cope.

The Sheffield Experimental Theatre Group

are proposing to do late-night revues

and we're negotiating and hope to get the services

of the Georgian State Dance Company from Russia.

It is indeed a pleasure to take part in an international competition

in the home of football.

We have already enjoyed many matches in Britain.

We look forward to meeting and making many new friends.

Yeah, well, when I say "Welcomed the world",

what I mean is we kept the pubs open an extra half-hour.

Oh, and put an umbrella next to that tea stall in Sheffield Market.

I think the mayor's missus bought a bunch of daffs too.

Anyway, stone the crows, Birmingham.

Surely you could have found a better backdrop

to show us off to the planet than this.

I mean, at least splash out on a litter bin, look at it.

And couldn't he have put down his Daily Mirror

while he was addressing a global audience?

Of course, promising the world flyblown bomb sites in Birmingham

will only get you so far.

The cup was the thing. "Let us see the cup!", they said.

"All right!", we said. "We shall show you the cup."

-CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

-"The cup...

"Right, what did we do with it?"

The thieves broke in by forcing the padlock on the main doors

at the back of the building.

Then they got into this stand over a hessian shield at the back

and took the lock off the back of this case and got away with the cup.

Gentlemen, I'm terribly sorry that I'm afraid, at this present moment,

I am unable to make any real form of statement.

I must ask you to appreciate the amount of pressure

that I have been under for the last 30 hours.

They were watching it all the time, in fact, theoretically.

If they were watching it the whole time,

one of them must have taken it,

so therefore they couldn't have been watching it the whole time.

Once I have had a chance to gather my somewhat scattered wits,

then I will indeed talk with you

and give you everything that I possibly can.

Come on, England, seriously.

As the saying goes, you were given one job.

If you are trusted

with one of the most precious icons in modern culture,

don't display it in a Jerry-built fish tank

secured with one of them locks you stick on a suitcase.

No wonder people want to do this to us.

That was the World Cup in England -

comically stolen and then even more comically recovered.

The cup was suddenly found, but not by the police or the men

who were involved in the hunt for it, but by Pickles,

and here we've got Pickles.

Come on, boy! Come on, Pickles!

Come on! Come on! I'll have to go get you.

There's a good boy. Come on, Pickles.

Oh, Pickles and Patch together. Come on.

Stay, Patch.

You stay. Well, this is Pickles.

No!

Pickles was sniffing away at a rather large parcel,

and when Mr Corbett picked it up, he saw a gleam of gold.

I pulled the top off and I could see the top of the statue.

I look back at the base and I see Brazil, '62,

and that's what sort of clicked in my mind.

Pickles certainly won't be forgotten, because he's already got a medal.

-REPORTER:

-..naming him Dog Hero of 1966.

There was a more substantial prize - almost £5,000 of reward money.

We'd lost trace of Pickles.

We didn't know if he was alive or not,

and as soon as we came off the air,

our phones just didn't stop ringing with people telling us

that his owner definitely was still alive

and was working for the GPO at Redhill,

so we were able to contact Mr Corbett there by telephone

and he told us a rather sad story -

that just about three years ago,

Pickles developed the extremely bad habit of chasing local cats

and on one occasion, he shot after one,

his lead caught on to something,

and poor old Pickles actually broke his neck.

Serves him right for chasing cats. Oh, dear.

Peter Purves, seen there surrounded by members of the BBC Trust,

not sugar-coating it at all there for the under-tens.

Serves him right for chasing cats.

Now at this point, I know what many of you are saying.

"Oh, England, Pickles, 1966.

"Frank Bough's variable-geometry comb-over."

# Oye como va... #

"What about the rest of Britain?

"Aren't we ludicrous on the international scene also?

"Aren't our fiascos equally noteworthy?

"We're rotten too, you know!"

Well, of course you are, my friends.

And now your time has come.

PRODUCER: OK, stand by.

MUSIC: "Ole Ola" by Rod Stewart

# When the blue shirts run out in Argentina

# Our hearts will be beating like a drum... #

Scotland goes just to win.

It's daft and it's sad

and it's very, very beautiful.

Scotland, level-headed,

only because it's got a chip on both shoulders,

is going to Argentina on business

-and to win.

-Ally MacLeod,

manager of Scotland,

the only team in Britain to qualify for the World Cup finals.

Oh, I was over the moon. I had to go and change my trousers.

Fingers crossed, God willing, we'll not let Britain down.

I'm a Scotsman and I'm proud of it.

THEY CHEER

Really proud. And England's not there, we're there. This is magic.

-LAUGHTER

-The greatest thing in the world.

When we bring the World Cup home,

the world will recognise us as a separate nation.

We'll get our independence a lot quicker.

# We'll support you ever more

# Bonnie Scotland

# Bonnie Scotland... #

I'm here at one of Mexico's most famous landmarks.

These are the Pyramids of the Moon.

Now, 2,000 years ago, they believed that if you brought men here,

they turned into gods,

so we, of course, have brought Charlie Nicholas.

MEXICAN FLUTE PLAYS

We manufactured about 100,000 of the shirts and we sold them very well

until Scotland started playing and losing.

Have you been able to sell any since?

Yes, we've got shops selling them at £1

and there's various suggestions about what to do with them -

wear them inside out as a vest or whatever.

Excuse me, sir, would you buy one of these?

No.

Would you buy one of these?

Er, yes.

-You would?

-Certainly.

Anything to help the public.

The difference between success and failure is minute.

Now, it all gets down in the end

to putting the ball in the back of the net.

I'm Welsh and wearing an England shirt,

so I don't know why I'm bothering doing it, but I've got caught up

in the momentum, I think, and they're reasonably priced.

The World Cup has created an awful lot of excitement in Spain,

even since last summer

and some of the words that are used, sporting terms,

would be easily recognised by an English speaker,

such as "el passing shot", for someone to pass the ball to you,

and, of course, the thing that Northern Ireland want most -

"el gol", a goal.

The first half-hour of the session had been quiet and relaxed

at a small local football ground at Alcobendas,

about six miles from Madrid.

The session was under the direction of Billy Bingham, the Irish manager,

and watched by hundreds of children on this Spanish public holiday.

There did seem a lack of order and security,

and suddenly came the trouble.

Two men walked on to the pitch hurling abuse at the players

and claiming John O'Neill, the Leicester City defender,

had kicked a child on the touchline.

Billy Bingham failed to calm them.

As the police arrived to restore order,

Bingham and his players retreated to the centre circle.

The Irish manager tried humour where reason hadn't worked.

But the protest grew more angry, and then violent.

The players continued to watch and wait,

their training session in chaos.

The game we're playing isn't available in the shops yet.

There's only one set.

It belongs to the man who devised it, Billy Hamilton.

Well, I had a lot of time on my hands

at the start of the season through injury,

so instead of sitting in the armchair doing nothing,

I came up with this game.

It's a journey through the life of a professional footballer.

You start off as an apprentice,

you do all the hard, menial tasks an apprentice does,

you move on to be a professional player.

Eventually, the winner is the first one to win the World Cup.

"You are seven pounds overweight. Lose two skill."

Billy, just on a serious note, you have had a rotten season.

It would be marvellous to finish it

by playing in the World Cup

and doing well, wouldn't it?

Yeah, it's been a very frustrating season.

There were times when I didn't think I would make it to the World Cup.

Look, it's Billy Hamilton's board game -

possibly the worst-selling World Cup spin off

since Peter Beardsley's love songs album

or Graham Poll's stainless steel referee's retina brush.

The point being, gripping though the tournament is,

it's all meant to be fun.

Isn't it?

Remember World Cup Willie, vintage 1966?

A not-very-fierce and obviously thoroughly tame lion.

What's worrying the minister this time

is that the British bulldog 1982 variety

projects quite the wrong image.

Mr Macfarlane, Bulldog Bobby surely is typically British,

bulldog breed, Churchillian spirit -

what do you object to in him?

Can you hear me, Neil Macfarlane?

Let me try again.

You're looking extremely interested, but can you hear me, Mr Macfarlane?

Well, there's an absolutely frustrated minister.

He can't hear me and I can't talk to him.

We'll see if we can get him, but in the meantime, here's Richard.

-FAINTLY:

-Well, details...

STATIC

-..mental hospital...

-STATIC

We have given voice to Mr Neil Macfarlane,

the sports minister, who's upset about the image

presented by Bulldog Bobby, the England World Cup mascot.

What are you concerned about, Mr Macfarlane?

I really think that that cartoon caricature of an animal,

and it's something I've always personally had some doubt about

as to whether or not we should ever humanise animals in that way,

and here we have a bulldog standing on its hind legs

with a football at one of its paws and whether or not this is going

to personify all that is best in British football, I doubt very much.

I think he looks rather soft and stupid

rather than belligerent, don't you?

-Well, I think that's a matter of opinion.

-Oh, dear.

Lighten up, Chuckles - it's a cartoon dog, not our man in Moscow.

It is indeed a pleasure...

Tell you what, I'll show you something funny.

Do you want to see Trevor Francis getting hit on the head

by a spring-loaded coach door.

-Oh!

-See!

That's why the national squad has cartoon characters representing it.

Here it is again.

And if you think we're padding this show out with irrelevant slapstick,

then you are totally missing the deeper subtext.

Showing things like this...

..this...

..and this...

..is actually a clever and frankly subversive comment

on the corporate emptiness

at the heart of this insidious soccer sideshow.

Don't you see what we're saying?

The World Cup is the ultimate example

of man's fruitless search for meaning,

desperate empiricist padding on the way to purgatory.

Padding of the soul, padding of the senses,

but most of all, padding of the TV schedules.

Welcome to the middle of nowhere.

You don't get the impression here

that the World Cup is about to break out,

but that's hardly surprising because we're still in Malta.

In fact, the Irish lads won't arrive in Italy until Friday's ceremony...

HE TUTS Shit.

Done this too many times now.

Yeah. I think we're, erm...

We're losing the impact.

I wanted them all here, really, you see.

SHEPHERD MUTTERS TO SHEEP

All right, roll it now, roll it now, while he's talking.

Welcome to the middle of nowhere.

INTERPRETER SPEAKS ITALIAN

MANCINI SPEAKS ITALIAN

-MANCINI:

-Nicol.

INTERPRETER: Steve Nicol.

Talking about Mo Johnston, saying that they're both very good players.

-INTERVIEWER:

-Does he think Scotland can do well in the finals?

INTERPRETER SPEAKS ITALIAN

MANCINI SPEAKS ITALIAN

INTERPRETER: Yeah, he thinks that they can go through

from the first phase to the eighth finals.

And what about Brazil and Sweden, will they both go through as well?

INTERPRETER SPEAKS ITALIAN

MANCINI SPEAKS ITALIAN

-REPORTER:

-Marco Polo discovered it in China a few centuries ago

and we've been trying to unravel its secrets ever since -

-pasta.

-No, no, no, tomato.

The Irish lads love a pasta -

Cannelloni Cascarino,

Tagliatelle Townsend and Macaroni McCarthy -

but there's method in their madness.

Its energy-giving qualities have long been valued

by marathon runners and Tour de France cyclists.

Ruud Gullit even wears it on his head,

Rasta pasta.

We have the lasagnes as well with the pasta,

so it's not just spaghetti.

And the ravioli we have, so it's...

It's come a long way, hasn't it, Jim,

since we used to get it out of a tin and put it on a round of toast.

Howdy, partners,

and welcome to a place you'd be happy in - cowboy country.

This is the end of the Santa Fe Trail.

This is the place all those guys in covered wagons ended up

after avoiding the Red Indians. BULLET RICOCHETS

It's also the place where Billy the Kid was finally gunned down

by Pat Garrett and your predecessors, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,

they used to roam about in them, thar hills.

Now it's the place where the Scotland World Cup wagon has rolled in.

They're preparing here before they meet three nasty tribes -

Denmark, Uruguay and West Germany in the World Cup shoot out.

Santa Fe is not much different now from the days

when guys who looked like John Wayne rode into town.

I've been hanging about here all week

expecting Clint Eastwood to appear round the corner.

The Indians are still here.

Alex Ferguson has already hit the back of the net

and found out what running at this height really means.

How do you feel after that?

Oh... That was amazing, you know.

We had a couple of shots there,

after you have the shot, you go like that.

HE PANTS

Alex Ferguson might be happy, but he's only the football manager.

I'm the important guy round here, the sheriff.

We're doing our own version of Spring, which is

the first Concerto from that.

It's especially for Italy.

One, two, one, two, 10.

THEY PLAY VIVALDI'S "SPRING"

FOGHORN BLOWS

The World Cup is beloved across our planet.

Because it offers a chance for people from around the world

to be judged not by the place they grew up, the colour of their skin,

or the way they choose to worship,

but by their spirit, skill, and strength.

Soccer is going to be great in the United States. It's becoming strong.

Sobering stuff.

And suddenly, you realise in a wider sense,

there really isn't anything at all funny about this.

But wasn't it always simply bread and circuses?

Or was 1966 really some kind of pure football Eden,

where things moved at a slower kind of pace,

and even the England manager

was content to let the 90 minutes of the match do all the talking?

Well, come on, Alf! Give us something!

How far are you prepared to go to win? I'm thinking now ethically.

Oh, dear.

Now, let's be fair about this.

I would not think in terms of doing anything...

..anything that would be unpleasant.

In terms of playing tiddlywinks and draughts and things such as that,

I wouldn't do... I wouldn't cheat.

I wouldn't cheat.

Well, I don't think I would cheat.

I think we're all, you know, somewhere,

we've all cheated a little sometime.

I think this most certainly is true of I.

I don't think I would cheat at draughts or tiddlywinks.

It's difficult to cheat at darts

unless you're taking your own scores.

EVIL LAUGHTER

Hmm. A great man.

But plenty of pointers there

to his true linguistic roots, weren't there?

I would not think in terms of doing anything.

"I would not think of doing anything." That was a big one.

And, "I think that is true of I," is bordering on the Rastafarian!

-# Dangerous... #

-The overall accent?

Dagenham, I believe.

Being kind, we could say it was just another way

he was ahead of the curve.

Most managers today don't speak in their first language either.

Wasn't always like that, of course.

Mr Winterbottom,

do you think that English football is slipping for good now?

Oh, heavens, no.

I mean, we've got to face up to it,

we're getting stronger challenge now by football the world over.

In South America particularly it's highly developed.

'A lecturer in sports science,

'Winterbottom felt success would only come

'by adopting a scientific approach to football.'

He was a prophet. And he taught me a lot.

He convinced me, when I was an England player,

that I should continue as a coach.

Tea and toast and jam, or something like that.

That will suit us.

They don't particularly want to eat too much before the match,

so tea, toast and jam, and there are 17 people.

Norwich City are coming to your hotel at teatime?

Oh, that's absolutely ridiculous. What time are they coming?

What time?

Oh! Talk about flirting with the enemy, this is just plain suicidal.

I wish Mr Fletcher had mentioned that to me or Trevor Lucas,

I never dreamed they would be coming that early and going to your hotel.

I certainly don't want to mix with them at this stage.

Hello, it's Mr Robson, Mr Wood. Ipswich Town football club.

I'd like to bring the players, 17 in number, to the Post House

if that's possible for quarter to five today.

For a light snack before our match, before Norwich City today.

Now, is that possible? Can you accommodate us?

Well, all we want really is very simple,

all we eat is tea and toast. And jam.

Cyril.

-Change of plans.

-Mm-hmm.

I've just discovered that Norwich City are going for tea

to the Copdock, so it's ridiculous us going there.

So I've changed the venue, we're going to go to the Post House,

you know, don't you, on the right-hand side.

-Same time, 4.45.

-Yeah, fine.

-OK?

-Yeah.

They're matches that we can win. If we win, we're top of the league.

Once you're there, anything can happen, once you've got there.

So what an incentive it is for you tonight.

You know, as I say, it's not just a match, it's an exceptional match.

Don't let the atmosphere get on top of you, keep calm.

All right, all the best. Stick together, work hard.

One of the problems we might have in the match is the fact that,

and I've got a report about Derby County...

'Before every match, the team gets together

'to hear Robson's assessment of the day's game.

'Robson himself admits that it's hard to bring inspiration to a talk

'that he's given hundreds of times before.

'It's just one part of the pre-match ritual.'

Definitely. Yeah.

OK.

Everything else quiet, Bill. All right. Bye.

You get ten of them on a Sunday.

We do this every Thursday morning, for the last 11 to 12 years.

I feel it's been a great thing to them,

cos it just relaxes them a little bit.

And gets the tension out of the muscle before the Saturday match.

And we often say, if we had a pound for each one we've massaged, Bob.

We'd be wealthy men,

because we massage them on a Monday before the Wednesday game also.

And I think they look forward to it.

The one on the table now is Paul Reaney.

When you think of disappointments that we've had,

we've missed many trophies and things like that, but the first sickening

disappointment I had was when Bobby Collins broke his leg in Turin.

So we decided to come here for the last five years,

for our steaks and beans and toast and tea,

and then we always play bingo,

we've played bingo 13 years at Leeds United.

75. On its own, number five.

All the sixes, 66. Four and three, 43.

Five and six, 56.

-Any strong views about Barry Manilow?

-No, not really.

I enjoy his singing enormously, he gets lots of flack, doesn't he?

Must be the big hooter he's got.

People either love him or hate him, it's strange.

I've seen him in concert in actual fact, he was very impressive.

The wife took me out to see him.

There we are! The ladies always do the leading.

Put the nappy on, put the nappy on, Glenn!

-Could you tell me, what is an antiseptic?

-Put it in a needle.

Yeah. Right, off you go!

The letter W. Down here, we've got a stunt for you, mate.

Get the chicken leg out the rice pudding!

The plastic chicken leg out the rice pudding. He's done it!

-You cut everything out?

-Yeah, we just have a lot of tea,

honey, toast.

I just sort of have a plain chicken.

But a handful of the brave souls

who've attempted to steer England's squad to victory down the years.

And yet, may the record show,

when it came to actually landing the trophy,

the only Brits to have done that are Dagenham Alf...

-This most certainly is true of I.

-..and a dog called Pickles.

-There's a good boy, Pickles.

-And yet, this year.

This year... Am I wrong for hoping?

Am I deluded for thinking that, come July,

we will all once again be witnessing this sort of thing?

Britain's World Cup team has come home.

This is what Billy Wright had to say.

Can I say how disappointed we are

that we haven't brought the World Cup back with us.

Oh, push off, reality! No, I meant the sort of thing.

CHEERING

The thing I remember is going out on the night to Danny La Rue's club...

# His name was Rico, he wore a diamond... #

He used to have a club in Hanover Square.

I'd arranged for four or five of us to go, me, Bally,

John Connelly, the Burnley winger.

Nobby Stiles and Martin.

Martin Peters, at the last minute after the celebrations at the hotel,

decided, I phoned and said, "Are you coming?"

And he said, "I'm staying in."

I'm amazed that he stayed in, him and his wife Cathy.

I'll never forget that to my dying day.

It was a long day, it was a very emotional day,

a very physical day with the extra time.

I haven't seen my wife for a number of weeks.

And so, it was just, er... the thing that I wanted to do.

I didn't want to go out, shouting and screaming,

and drinking and whatever. I wanted to be quiet.

I'm amazed that he stayed in.

Had a few quid in my pocket, never spent a bean.

Everywhere we went, it was all, bottles of champagne,

and God knows what. And I got well drunk.

And I believe there's a story that you finished up

in a house in East London and met an old friend?

Something like that, yeah. We were... It was strange.

I've met the people couple of times that I met that night since,

a fella called Lenny and his wife. I don't know where they live now.

But I remember in the morning on the Sunday morning,

me and Jimmy Moss had slept on the settee in the living room.

In the morning we went out in the garden,

and I remember sitting having a cup of coffee in the garden.

There was a wall, and all of a sudden a head came over a wall,

and a woman went, "Hello, Jackie!" And I went, it's Mrs Maither!

She lived opposite us in Beatrice Street in Ashington.

And she was... her son or something was next door.

And she just looked over, went, "Hello, Jackie."

And I said, "Hell flames!" You know, it was amazing.

And I got back, my mother played hell with me

for being out all night. But it was...

I was in Leytonstone, I'd never been to Leytonstone before in my life.

The only reason I know it was Leytonstone,

because we asked where we were.

CHEERING

Yes, that's it!

You see, it's happened before, and it can happen again.

We can win this thing again. It's all about belief.

Belief and giving 110%.

And luck. Belief, 110%, and luck.

Oh, happy days are here again, my friends.

Book me on a plane to Rio, boys, I've got a date with destiny.

Because ring it from the rooftops, once again,

England are going to win the World Cup!

Oh, thank you very much!

Kids, ha ha(!) Good night.

There's only one team going to win the World Cup.

And that team who win the World Cup are going to be pleased.

No more football.

HE BLOWS WHISTLE

# I'm in charge of this here match

# With whistle, notebook and stopwatch

# And I'll keep you up to scratch

# Cos I'm the referee

# Which side are you on, which side are you on

# Which side are you on...

# 20 years of dedication

# Training hard to face the nation

# Learning rules with application

# That's what makes a referee

# Which side are you on, which side are you on

# If my notebook I display

# You will soon be on your way

# Remember if you want to play

# That I'm the referee

# Which side are you on

# Which side are you on

# Which side are you on

# Tolerating aggravation

# And preventing altercation

# Cutting short procrastination

# That's what makes a referee

# Which side are you on, which side are you on... #

-Cheers, King.

-Cheers, mate.

Still got to drink, ain't he?

That's beautiful.