There’s a lot of nonsense talked about the Munich air disaster, and I’m not just talking about the standard terrace guff, which has sadly become par for the course. The more dangerous nonsense is the pseudo-intellectualism peddling the theory that United (both club and supporters) have been ‘milking’ the crash ever since 1958.
People seem intent on proving that Munich gave United an ‘unfair advantage’, tranforming them from also-rans into the James Dean of English football clubs.
This theory gained currency many years ago but now it seems to have become an article of faith within football supporters up and down the land, even some within United’s own support. It’s not so much United’s success that grates rival fans but the manner of the success – how else to explain the umming and ahhing of the FA over the minute’s silence at Wembley tomorrow?
Manchester United, the theory goes, were a small provincial club before the crash and exploited the glamour and the public’s fascination with the disaster for financial gain. On the face of it, it’s easy to see why this theory could gain ground. The premature death of the young and talented is a constant curiosity for the public, a fact highlighted by the cause celebres of Princess Diana and Madeline McCann, regular ‘cover girls’ for middlebrow tabloids.
The macabre interest in United is hard to gauge from 50 years distance but the outpouring of grief was unbearable. Many claim the crash attracted women to United, in a way that no other event could, a place cemented in female affections by the sultry career of George Best a decade later. Others claim that United made ‘a lot of money’ out of the crash via memorabilia, high profile fixtures against the likes of Real Madrid and the higher attendances in the wake of Munich.
In other words the crash gave United ‘an unfair advantage’ over the rest of British football that they’ve ruthlessly exploited to become the biggest club in the land.
Of course, to give credence to this theory would be to ignore the 56 years of United’s history before the crash. United’s history between the wars is largely derided, yet despite an unbroken run of failure stretching from before the First War it is still arguable that United were one of the top 4 or 5 clubs in terms of support and profile. Old Trafford was a marvel of the age, the most modern sport stadium in the country until Wembley was built.
Realistically however, United’s only pre-war heyday was in the Edwardian era during which they claimed two titles and an FA Cup. Then again a glance at attendances in London between the wars shows United compare favourably with other northern teams and it’s clear that United already had a significant number of supporters in the capital.
The story changes after the war of course with the arrival of Busby and the emergence of the 1948 Cup team. In an era of grey circumspection, the public at large, perhaps freed from pre-war club allegiances after 7 years without serious football, flocked to see a United team whose sole credo appeared to be to attack. As an example, when United played Aston Villa in the 3rd round of the cup on their way to glory in 1948, they were 5-1 up within 13 minutes, Villa fought back before United scored in the last few minutes to secure a 6-4 win. Busby’s cavalier attitude chimed with a post-war generation that had fought a war, in some cases two, and better appreciated the trivial joy of sport.
The daring, almost naïve, quality of United’s football set them apart, even in an age where the ‘W’ formation was universal. The Red Devils possessed the je ne sais quoi lacking in their more successful rivals of this era. They shared Maine Road with City and broke most of their attendance records. If the post-war settlement brought a social changes, now many in Manchester watched United one week, City the next – for those too young to remember pre-war football there was no choice to make, United were Manchester’s team, the bold representatives of a new era.
Busby’s naïve streak was reinforced with the emergence of the Babes. The name itself implies innocence but the angel faces and cute tricks only served to hide the basis of this team’s success – power. The Red Devils were a team built on strength – players like Byrne, Taylor and Edwards were young, athletic and well trained in the nefarious ways of the English First Division. You don’t win titles by pussy footing around in defence or allowing thugs to knock you off the ball in midfield and Busby’s team had the players to put the boot in when required. Crucially it had the balls to deliver at a young age – the Babes first title was won with a team with an average age of 21 – or a full year and a half younger than Arsenal’s current first-team.
This team set the football world alight. In a world before Match of the Day, the affection for the team was felt most keenly in Manchester, a city coming to terms with its fading position in the world, discovering an expression of vitality and hope.
They were the first English champions whose representatives had not seen action in the war. They played with the rebelliousness of the teenager to the sound of the nascent British rock n’roll scene. They were innocent yet knowing, youthful yet experienced, quick yet deliberate – above all they were the most talented club side in the land and proved it winning back-to-back titles in 1956 and 1957.
They entered Europe, succumbing in their first season at the hands of Real Madrid, a collection of the finest players in the world – Puskas, Di Stefano, Kopa… next year they’d lick them for sure. Yet when the United plane skidded into a Munich farmhouse a year on, a million Mancunian dreams were shattered and Busby’s cult of naivety seemed crushed.
So were United a ’small, provincial club’ in the pre-Babes period? The evidence suggests not. Of United’s top 20 domestic attendances, 16 are from before 6th February 1958 – that’s quite an achievement considering the attendance records being set on a weekly basis in the Premiership and the rival clubs about at the time, of which pre-war Arsenal were regarded as the biggest.
It’s hard to see how United could gain by losing such a talented team. The nation’s sympathy was scant consolation for the glory lost, the dream unattained. United could only lose from Munich. In the short term they lost vital members of staff and at least 4 star players. The potential of the team to continue the run of triumphs was clear: their only serious domestic rivals were Wolves, who were top of the table at the time of Munich and went on to win the league comfortably in 1958, their only serious European rivals were Madrid who went on to win the first five European Cups, a record inconceivable without Munich.
Have United made money from the crash? Well in terms of attendances, the club drew the crowds. Yet by 1960 the rubber-necking element had dissappeared and die-hard reds were left with their grief as attendances subsided to pre-Munich levels and carried on falling from an average of over 53,000 in 1958/9 down to less than 34,000 in 1961/2. It seemed as if United would follow the path of football’s other bereaved club, Torino and disappear from the honours lists completely.
The extra memorabilia sold – then little more than scarves and hats – would have amounted to little in financial terms. Meanwhile the club, shorn of two coaches, most of its first team and with its creator apparently too frail for the job, struggled on with a team of reserves and a backroom staff hastily re-built on the sympathetic largesse of rival clubs.
It’s still a wonder that United completed the 1957/8 season at all. Few supporters realise how close the club came to going out of business. Perhaps the ‘Keep the Red flag flying High’ spirit engendered by club legend Jimmy Murphy was worn too lightly by the club. There were no outpourings of emotion just a quiet dignity and a grim determination to survive.
And I believe that this explains United’s enduring glamour – it was United’s reaction to the crash, rather than the fact of the crash itself, that earned it a fresh legion of fans. Yes, the crash had an impact but the reason United owe Munich as much as they do is in the manner the club dealt with the tragedy and came back.
The recovery began immediately as Jimmy Murphy somehow guided a team of cast-offs and reserves to the FA Cup Final. United’s run to Wembley is perhaps the most underrated football achievement in football history. To fathom it, contrast the team picked for the fourth round, a 2-1 home win against Ipswich, and that of the fifth, the famous 3-0 win over Sheffield Wednesday: the Busby Babes in the former, the reserves in the latter.
How did this team get to Wembley? Raw emotion, luck, brilliant performances: a last minute winner against West Brom in the quarter-finals, an Alex Dawson hat-trick seeing off Fulham in the semi before being floored by Nat Lofthouse’s Bolton at Wembley. Yet defeat didn’t matter, football tragedies paled into insignificance.
Even more remarkably Matt Busby got up off his deathbed to guide United to runners-up in the league the following year, at one point seriously threatening Wolves for the title. I wonder what Busby would have made of Gerrard Houllier giving up the Liverpool job in 2003 after a heart-attack caused by stress? Wracked by guilt, Busby determined to justify his decision to enter European competition, even if it meant compromising the youth policy he had pioneered. How do you deal with the irrational knowledge that you had helped kill your own team? ’No one blames you, Matt’, ’Ay son, but I blame myself’.
So if United remain to some extent enthral to Munich it is the way Busby fought his personal demons by re-discovering his naivety and building them the only worthy tribute, the 1968 European Champions.
The Manchester United story is undoubtedly the Greatest Football Story Ever Told and like all the best narratives it has proved unfilmable. Regular rumours of American funded productions come to nothing, I even contacted one myself, just to hear his voice, one minute told me it would never happen. Already in lockdown mode he seemed astounded at the reaction in Manchester and a little overwhelmed at our interest in an event that few were alive to experience.
The recent BBC film about the crash proved equally controversial, it was unwatchable for my dad’s generation. Why should he want to experience the crushing of his hopes in full colour again?
The pall of Munich can still hang above the city on a grey day. The club still bears the scars of the crash. Most were not even born in 1958. The club’s loss has turned into a badge of pride for successive generations – we came through it; fuck it, you can kill the greatest team in the world but we’ll just re-build it, crush all our hopes and dreams but we’ll find new idols and break new ground.
It’s the same attitude that triumphed in ‘68, the same attitude that broke attendance records in the Second Division, the same attitude that got Sexton the sack and very nearly did for Fergie. The very same that founded FC United of Manchester – right or wrong, we want it our way – no compromises.
It’s this self-confident (rivals say arrogant) mindset of the post-Munich United that has allowed the club to rise from the ashes of Munich and simultaneously elevated them beyond the reach of their rivals in England and Europe. Ironically only Madrid, United’s great rivals in ’58, enjoy the acclaim of the world in the same way, no other clubs come close.
