The 60th anniversary of the Munich air disaster.

The 60th anniversary of the Munich air disaster.

Today marks the 60th anniversary of the Munich air disaster. 60 years ago some of the most preciously gifted footballers Britain has ever produced, died on a Munich runway. In retrospect it still sends the most ghastly chill down the spine and 60 years later the mental, physical and emotional scars can still be felt by a generation that can hardly comprehend what happened that dreadful and horrific day.

The facts though have been well documented in archive films and documentaries illustrating perfectly the moral dilemmas that had to be solved at the time but could barely be imagined in the cold light of day. What we do know is that the throbbing heartbeat of a wonderfully talented group of Manchester United players would, quite appallingly, perish in one of the most heartbreaking air crashes of any time.

So it was that on a cold, icy and snowbound airport runway in Munich the players of Manchester United were firmly ordered to return home after their European Cup game against Red Star Belgrade immediately. As the snow fell heavily from a dark and bleak sky most of the United players, still reliving their heroic exploits against Red Star Belgrade, sat back in their seats ready to take off for home. But, in what still seems like an unforgivable act of gross misjudgment and utter stupidity, the Busby Babes had to fulfil the following Saturday's League match against Wolves.

The world now knows though that Roger Byrne, Eddie Coleman, Tommy Taylor, Denis Violett, Liam Whelan, Harry Gregg, the now incomparable Bobby Charlton, David Pegg, Bill Foulkes, and of course the magical Duncan Edwards were all members of a party where the grievous losses of life could never be measured against those whose survival is equally as difficult to take in. And yet as we remember this terrible day in history it is still impossible to grasp the imponderables of what might have happened and why it was allowed to happen.

Hindsight and perspective are not here to serve as any kind of consolation but there is a school of thought which insists that this was quite the most avoidable of any flights, a journey that should never have been allowed to happen and where logic and commonsense should, quite clearly, have intervened.

How, for instance, was a plane that was quite obviously trapped by thick snow and generally adverse weather conditions, somehow given the go-ahead to take off when circumstances dictated otherwise? Three times the Munich plane tried desperately to taxi the runaway and three times was obscenely too many? Why on earth were the United players almost forced to board a plane that should have been going nowhere?

The harsh truth is of course that in all their stubborn intransigence and ignorance, the FA were crazily and idiotically deluded into believing that the runway was safe to negotiate and nobody had anything to worry about. Little did they know that their third attempt to take off would be calamitously fatal  and families, boyfriends, girlfriends, mothers and fathers would be irreparably torn apart for ever.

Now 60 years later the clock at Old Trafford, Manchester United's Theatre of Dreams, has stopped briefly and mournfully. Tears will be shed in some profusion, memories still raw and vivid and images etched onto what can only be traumatised minds. This is not the time for bitterness or resentment  although it may seem to be the right time for it. Neither is it a time for finger pointing, pained accusations or self questioning but history now tells us that the events of that distant February day can never be erased and that may be the saddest of all realities.

Immediately after the Munich disaster things had to return to some semblance of normality because they had to. The elegant Bobby Charlton would win the World Cup for England in 1966, Sir Matt Busby became the most saintly and revered manager in club football and dear Duncan Edwards would remind us of the golden chariot that should have reached the most memorable of any destination but who died in the most horrendous air crash of all time.

It is easy to point the finger of blame, of course it is. Of course no purpose could be served by suggesting that that annoyingly officious and interfering busybody Alan Hardaker was just taking orders from the FA. But surely Hardaker must have known that no good would come of dragging back a United team faced by a plane journey that should never have been. But Hardaker, you feel, must have been ever so slightly snobbish, totally misguided and ever so myopic. It is easy to call this as blinkered vision or just crass madness but the man who would later give English football the League Cup, could only have suffered sleepless nights and remorse after a nightmare that may never go away.

Still here we are 60 years later and Manchester United is still grief stricken and gripped by lamentation. We know what happened to Sir Bobby Charlton but, quite inexplicably, we will never what might have happened to Duncan Edwards and therein lies the heartache. Edwards we were told at the time, could have become captain of England one day and would, inevitably, lead his national team to glory upon glory.

But even as Sir Matt Busby was convalescing in a Munich hospital none of us would know that ten years later he would lovingly coax and cajole a whole new generation of Manchester United players to victory on a  now special and unforgettable night at Wembley when George Best would almost single handedly win the European Cup Final for United against Benfica.

In the aftermath of the Munich disaster United would go on to reach the FA Cup Final of that year before bravely losing to Bolton Wanderers. But the legacy goes on at Old Trafford and after a massive redevelopment to the ground, 75,000 fans fill the ground regularly and the triumphant years of Sir Alex Ferguson still echo down the ages. There is a very real sense of stability and continuity at United that even in the lowest moments after Munich could never have been dreamt of.

Happily though United are still one of the most widely respected and honoured of any football team in the world. There is a global internationalism and all conquering brilliance about United still more than capable of turning on the charm whenever they feel like it. The names of Charlton, Law and Best can be identified in any tapas bar or pizza parlour around the world.  They trip off the tongue like syrup, milk and honey, surnames with a touch of molasses for good measure.

Equally Beckham, Scholes, Butt and Giggs will reverberate down the years like that first ever Beatles record you first set eyes on. They are  United, the world marketing brand, the Far East magnet, the team who may have been your favourite second team without knowing it at the time, the team who never gave up when crisis or adversity seemed to hang over them.

Today though is a time to reflect somberly and properly on that dismal day in February 1958 when the whole world seemed to stand still and incredulity was the only response we could find. And yet amid the wreckage and carnage of Munich we can still find the essential joy and the blissful discovery of the human spirit.

As Jose Mourinho leads the current United cream of the crop to what now seems a top four place in the Premier League, some of us will be wiping a tear, bowing our heads and then feel that very real lump in the throat that nostalgia always does to you. For now in the current year of 2018, reminiscences of day's gone past can only be good for the soul. Manchester United will always go marching on and long may that be the case.