Soccer: Quiet man who spurred game

Bill Nicholson and his rampant Tottenham Hotspur teams of the 60s and 70s helped make British football great. PAUL LEWIS looks at Nicholson's bitter-sweet legacy to Spurs.



In 1981, I was sitting in the Press Box at Wembley Stadium waiting for the kick-off of the famous FA Cup replay, Tottenham Hotspur v Manchester City. I'd secured a seat reasonably early and was listening to the warring chants of the sea of supporters when I became aware of movement behind me.

Chairs were scraped to make room, people stood, heads were nodded and a general silence fell over the room. Making his way through the crowded press box was a nondescript man, wearing a nondescript coat. He had a 1950s haircut and a face, as was famously said of British comedian Sid James, like an unmade bed.

He sat at the far end of the press box and chatted to a reporter. I say chatted, but he did little of the talking, his eyes fixed on the scenes outside the window. His responses seemed short, almost curt.

"Who's that?" I asked the reporter next to me. "Bill Nicholson," came the response.

Bill Nicholson - a childhood hero and I hadn't even recognised him. The man who masterminded Spurs' 'glory, glory' days with the first 20th century double of the League and FA Cup in 1960-61. He introduced a style of play which transfixed a continent. Spurs became the first British team to win a European trophy when they won the Cup Winners Cup the following season with a 5-1 destruction of Atletico Madrid. The attacking style with which these victories were achieved still transfixes Tottenham supporters even today.

I'd watched the movie reels of Spurs' various triumphs as a kid in South Auckland, and was already a fan when I later read Hunter Davies' famous book The Glory Game, about the ups and downs of the 1971-72 Spurs team.

Back in the press box, Nicholson didn't stay long. He was always uncomfortable with the media and, once he'd completed his interview, he waded back through the press box, heading to the Spurs' box, where he would feel just as uncomfortable with the attention.

But in the scrap and hubbub after the match - won at the last with one of the great FA Cup goals, by Argentinian Ricky Villa - Nicholson turned up at the press conference. Spurs' manager Keith Burkinshaw was being pounded with questions. Nicholson poked his head round the door, smiled at Burkinshaw, and was gone.

"First time anyone's seen him smile in 10 years," sniffed a journalist next to me.

For a man who didn't like the media, Nicholson - or rather his teams and their style of play - still inspired loyalty and admiration from the assembled press corps. After Villa scored his famous goal, the correspondent from the Daily Telegraph astonished me. As Wembley erupted in a deafening mass of celebration, the Telegraph man stood on his chair. This was a death-defying act as the press box, in those days, had an open front and was located precariously, about four storeys above the fans in Wembley's hallowed eaves. The sportswriter then tore his notebook into confetti and scattered it over the crowd below - all while on his chair, arms upraised in a salute to the beauty of the finish. This from a profession which placed great store on objectivity.

In a month when death claimed Brian Clough as well as Nicholson, after a long illness, it is convenient to place them together as architects of all that is good about British football. But the two were very different characters - Clough, the hard-drinking, tough-talking, hard-hitting and ego-driven, loved by the public for the very qualities that prevented him from ever becoming England manager.

And then there's Nicholson, a dour Yorkshireman of moderate habits, a pernickety perfectionist who somehow produced teams of expression, craft and style from his blacksmith's anvil of a personality. He was never the people's choice for England manager - his dislike of the media and the limelight saw to that - and he leaves behind no lasting legacy in clever quotes or pithy statements, as Clough did.

His expression came through his players and what they did on the pitch. "It is the man without the ball who is the most important," Nicholson once explained. "When not in possession, get into position. You should never be just watching. I used to say when one of my players erred in this way: 'If I catch you doing that again, I'll charge you admission. If you want to watch, then you should pay'."

He won an unparalleled eight trophies for Spurs during his time but his greatest regret was failing to complete the double for a second successive time - retaining the FA Cup in 1961-62 but just falling short of the League title. "It was disappointing that we did not put our Double feat out of anybody's reach," he said. "Remember Arsenal caught up with us 10 years later. We should have done the double Double. We should have."

In the '70s, Nicholson was overtaken by the rising tide of celebrity that engulfed his players and which led to their increased demands and some of the excess which critics of professional football feel has ruled the game for too long. Uncomfortable with the increasing celebrity of his players, their salaries and transfer fees, he resigned in 1974 with Spurs near the bottom of the table.

His legacy, however, has been a blessing and a curse for his old club. Legions of Spurs fans have come to expect style - at times almost ahead of results. This makes it permissible for Spurs to concede four goals as long as they score five. This emphasis on style helps explain why successive managers have struggled in the job, particularly George Graham - another dour man whose attitude was reflected on the pitch and whose Arsenal origins were never forgiven.

Quite what Nicholson thought of Spurs' 2004 version is not known. The new manager, former French coach Jacques Santini, has produced a side which was briefly third on the table this year and which, after Chelsea, has the meanest defence in the EPL. When they have won it has generally been 1-0, the score that the old, boring Arsenal teams under Graham used to win by, and which became an object of derision by Tottenham supporters (even though Arsenal perennially finished higher than Spurs). They have lately found goals hard to come by.

It's not hard to postulate that Bill Nicholson liked Arsenal's play much more than that of Tottenham in recent years - which is heresy to many supporters who see their hated North London rivals as devils incarnate.

It's too early to talk about Nicholson spinning in his grave, but as Spurs supporters walk up Bill Nicholson Way towards White Hart Lane, past Nicholson's little house near the ground, they must be highly conscious of the irony.

- THE HERALD ON SUNDAY