Martin Peters dies - one of West Ham's own.

Martin Peters dies- one of West Ham's own.

Yesterday football lost one of its most distinguished servants, one of the major contributors to English football's finest hour and half plus extra time. He was the one figure who, amid all of the hallabaloo and knees up revelry of that late July afternoon, kept the coolest of heads and that quiet low profile that would come characterise his football throughout his career.

Martin Peters, who died yesterday at the age of 76, was, of course part of the England team who beat West Germany in the 1966 World Cup Final and, as if it were fated to happen, scored one of the goals that left the Germans on their knees and looking for a hole in the ground.

The Germans were still incensed at the injustice of it all. When Peters West Ham team mate Geoff Hurst turned on a six pence inside the Germans penalty area and thundered his shot into the back of the net, a posse of white German shirts surrounded the referee, convinced that the ball had hit the bar, come down on the goal line and not crossed that line. But the goal stood and the rest is controversial history.

Martin Peters though remained calm, detached, utterly imperturbable and slightly bewildered by events swirling around him. While Hurst was flinging his arms into the air and casting an equally as baffled look around him, Peters was almost completely unaffected by all the fuss and confusion. Fresh faced and boyish, hair neatly cut and the epitome of composure, Peters was honoured to be associated with the one day in English football history where time seemed to freeze for just a while.

Born in Plaistow, East London, Peters joined the fabled West Ham academy of football where an entire generation of East End gems would be nurtured, encouraged, coaxed, inspired and made to feel as if they genuinely belonged. He was 15, wet behind the ears but willing to listen to everything that West Ham manager Ron Greenwood was about to teach him. The mind was both responsive and receptive, an absorbent sponge if you like.

Then the claret and blue teenager matured like the sweetest of wines, joining forces with the blond haired boy from Barking who would become Sir Alf Ramsey's greatest standard bearer and captain. Bobby Moore was both immaculate of dress and footballing temperament, a player who never hurried or scurried but always read and anticipated. Then there was Peters other loyal and whole hearted colleague Sir Geoff Hurst who followed Peters and Moore all the way to those wild party celebrations at the Royal Garden Hotel in Kensington later that evening.

As a player, Martin Peters was mild mannered, modest, a man of humility, graciousness personified, kindness and one of football's keenest students. Peters always seemed to have time on the ball and when the tackles were flying in from all directions, Peters chose the safe option and didn't get involved. When Ron Greenwood, the Hammers boss, insisted that Peters was 10 years ahead of every player in the old First Division, he may have been endorsing the sentiments of the whole of Britain.

Peters did win trophies with West Ham but there was a school of thought that believed that had he been more ambitious he could have won more with bigger clubs and loftier ideas. Although Peters was left out of the West Ham team who won that cliff hanger of an FA Cup Final in 1964, West Ham still went on to win the game, Ronnie Boyce swooping in with a last gasp header that floated wide of the Preston North End keeper and into the net.

In 1965, Peters once again emerged as one of the key figures and protagonists in West Ham's unforgettable European Cup Winners Cup Final victory against TSV Munich 1860 at the old Wembley Stadium. Peters was a strolling, swaggering artist, almost picking his passes as a water colourist would choose their paints. Peters would never be flustered or bothered, never agitated by things that were beyond his control.

Then in 1966 Martin Peters lined up with his World Cup Final best buddies and nervous acquaintances in the tunnel. You could see him at the very moment when the players were about to emerge into that theatrical shaft of watery sunlight that seemed to flood Wembley on that historic day. Peters, walking straight and unflinching was tall and upright as a guardsman, a man in search of a unique destiny.

Early in the second half, with both West Germany and England locked in battle and the scores level, it suddenly happened. A weak shot from just outside the German penalty area bobbled intriguingly around and the ball fell almost conveniently to Peters in acres of space. The ball rebounded off a German leg and almost in slow motion the West Ham midfielder joyfully cracked the ball into the West German net for England's second.

Throwing his hands into the air and jumping for joy, Peters had just carved his name into English football's hitherto chequered history. And so it was that Sir Geoff Hurst, one of Peters best friends off  the pitch, rattled the crossbar and then found that, much to the relief of everybody,  the third England goal was legitimate. Oh how grateful we were that VAR wasn't around to spoil things.

Four years later in Mexico, England came back to defend the World Cup that had rightfully been theirs in 1966. Peters was still there and working effectively for Sir Alf Ramsey in the sweltering mid day heat. He also scored again against West Germany but this time the chunky thighs of Gerd Muller, the lethal West German striker would wrap themselves around the ball thrashing the ball powerfully past Peter Bonetti the goalkeeper who was deputising for Gordon Banks, the victim of a thankfully brief bout of food poisoning.

After returning home from the World Cup in Mexico, Peters had time to take stock of his career up until that point. He'd picked up one or two trophies thus far but it was now time for some serious reappraisal. West Ham, or so he must have thought, were a club going nowhere and Peters felt a change was as good as a rest. In a move that took Jimmy Greaves to West Ham for one last swansong, Peters ended up at Spurs under another managerial visionary in Bill Nicholson.

Peters would win two League Cup medals for Spurs against |Norwich and Aston Villa. With a treasure trove of England caps still building up around him, Peters was determined to end his career on a high note. Then in the twilight of his career, Peters joined Norwich which became the last staging post for him, a player of gold plated distinction and respectability.

When Peters hung up his boots, Sheffield United came a calling, looking for a full time coach and manager to lead the Blades to a promised land that never materialised. Peters was a magician on the pitch but only capable of so much off it. Sheffield United would blunder and bumble, stutter and stumble rather painfully at times and it's only this season that they would be restored to the top flight under the very realistic Chris Wilder.

Martin Peters was never a nightclub socialite or indeed outrageous hell raiser with a penchant for late night punch ups or alcoholic misdemeanours. There was never anything false or superficial about Peters, certainly no airs or graces, just an easy going man with a straightfoward approach to life. He was renowned for ghosting into positions from set pieces and heading goals where no markers had ever seen him. Peters had an unobtrusive charm that endeared him to everybody in the game, a man of solid working class values and a lovingly supportive family.

And so it is that the East End of London bids a final farewell to one of their own. Martin Peters undoubtedly had claret and blue running through his veins. Along the Barking Road and Green Street they'll be paying their respects, doffing their caps and hats. Martin Peters never courted publicity, never really wanted to be famous but yesterday we remembered the very best that Peters had to offer. Oh and never forget that glorious day at the very end of July 1966 when Peters scored one of England's World Cup winning goals. A world champion par excellence.