England knocked out of the World Cup 1974 in qualifier

 England knocked out of the World Cup 1974 in qualifier.

It was one of those fatalistic nights in world football that can never be erased from the mind however hard we try. Some of us were wading through the complexities of primary school and emotionally demanding academia. In a sense 1973 was that last transitional year before being thrust into that frightening world of adolescence. Of course, you were scared and knew that football had already entered your consciousness since England were playing their last group qualifier against Poland. What was there not to look forward to?

At school, life was all about standing attentively at religious assemblies staring in wonderment at those familiar hymns that were now fading rapidly into an indecipherable, crumpled yellow that simply disappeared from any clear view. Then there was the discordant piano, the ropy old record player that morphed into Country Dancing lessons on a Friday afternoon. There were those challenging climbing frames and thick ropes hanging languidly from the ceiling as intrepid seven-year-olds came to grips with the PE equipment in the main hall. It all seems a long time ago and generations in the past. 

So what do we know about October 1973 apart from that crucial World Cup qualifier between England and Poland. We knew that England had a rock solid, seemingly reliable defence with Bobby Moore, still the regal emperor at the heart of the England defence, Norman Hunter, rugged, masculine, full of down to earth authenticity, grounded, down to earth, no nonsense and uncompromising. Emlyn Hughes was all whole- hearted energy, desire, a voracious appetite for battle and dependably industrious. Paul Madeley was tall, dominant, calming and reassuring as others might have lost their heads.

But the night didn't go according to plan and none of us knew why. We'd seen England swing the bulldozer against Austria in a September friendly of that year. The visitors were demolished, flattened, beaten into anonymity and never seen again for years afterwards. So it did seem logical to assume that when Poland came to Wembley for that final World Cup qualifier everything would be nice and easy. No sweat and no problem whatsoever. 

Then the haunted figure of Sir Alf Ramsey, the England manager, made what would be his final curtain call for England. The man who had guided his victorious England side to their only World Cup so far seven years earlier was on the receiving end of cruel vilification, an impatient, irascible man who may have seemed rude and standoffish to those who couldn't quite understand him and maybe unnecessarily abrupt if anybody asked the wrong question. But Ramsey was neither objectionable nor rude because he was just misunderstood. 

When the final whistle went and England had discovered that they wouldn't be taking part in the World Cup Finals of West Germany in 1974, Ramsey just shrugged his shoulders philosophically, pulled up his coat collar and tried to pretend that this wasn't the end of the world. But the FA hierarchy had had more than enough and Ramsey left the world stage, an isolated, private man alone with his thoughts.

It couldn't be denied that England hadn't tried to beat Poland since clearly they had done everything but and the blame surely lay elsewhere. Colin Bell, known affectionately as Nijinsky after the thoroughbred horse, for his tireless scurrying, scampering and extraordinary mileage covered during a game, battled gamely and spiritedly and Tony Currie always looked like the suavest of midfield players, composure in both feet and a positional awareness that made everything he did look effortless and poised. 

At the heart of England's attack were some of the most consistent goal scorers that the old First Division had ever seen. Mick Channon was lithe, athletic, capable of scoring goals of remarkable quality and quantity for Southampton and also England. Martin Chivers was simply a stick of dynamite in the white shirt of Spurs, powerful, purposeful, always threatening and a permanent nuisance to defenders.

Sadly though everything unrivalled for England and Ramsey that night. For years English football had laboured under the misapprehension that they were the greatest thing since sliced bread. Nobody could match them, beat them at the game they had allegedly invented and besides this was England. Twenty years before the match against Poland, an equally as boastful England had been destroyed with a 6-3 defeat by the inimitable Magical Magyars as England gulped and swallowed their pride. Hungary had sent out the message to England as did Poland 49 years ago. It was time to think again radically and dramatically. 

And this is where England will now come back into the reckoning to the present day. There are no World Cups to qualify for England since the Three Lions booked their flight to the deserts of Qatar ages ago. Now this is the crux of the problem. England have always had mere lightweights to negotiate when the groups are announced for either a World Cup or a Euros. It was rather like blowing feathers when you know that the hardest of nuts should be there to be cracked. 

We are now just six weeks ago from England's first World Cup group match against the USA on November 21. The chances are that England will probably do just enough to overcome the Americans. And yet soccer in the USA has now achieved a quite phenomenal popularity. This is far from the emphatic and expected victory for England that it might have been 40 years ago. Besides, what had happened to England 72 years ago in Belo Horizonte when the whole of England and football had expected a thumping massacre.  The USA beat Billy Wright's England 1-0 in a World Cup Finals quite astonishingly. It did happen and we weren't hallucinating and imagining it.

Then Iran and Wales await Gareth Southgate's England and the weight of expectation will once again hang heavy. We all get deliriously excited and animated every time England qualify for a World Cup. But this time we could be entering into the unknown. In a couple of weeks time, the Premier League will be temporarily suspended while the cream of English football finds itself entertained by filthy rich sheiks, sultans, perhaps oil barons and Saudi potentates of obscene wealth.

Nobody is losing sight of where England are at the moment. We've all become almost boringly conditioned to the English mentality and mindset. We know we're competent, skilful and much more easy on the eye than might have been the case in those wilderness years of the 1970s. Now England have developed a game modelled on the delightful short passing game of Germany, Brazil, France, Italy and Argentina. 

Their game has a classical feel to it and England are now a much more rounded, cultured force to be reckoned with. Their football has a much greater clarity, togetherness, harmony and unity about it. But tonight we will dwell albeit briefly on the night in October 1973 when Brian Clough's Polish clown had made a complete mockery of the England football team. It was a deeply disappointing night and one we'd rather forget as just a blip. Roll on Qatar and a World Cup victory a week before Christmas. It would indeed be the perfect celebration.