The agony and the bliss of the 1964-65 Liverpool season

The weekend of that Cup Final was like none of the many that have followed. The local press cranked up the atmosphere, as would be expected, and the team left Lime Street Station with the sort of send-off that some teams would have been glad to have received having won the trophy. Bill and I set off for London (this time in my car) on the Friday afternoon after we had, for some bizarre reason, had a game of pitch and putt at Arrowe Park golf club. We arrived in central London about 6.00pm with no accommodation organised, parked up just off Trafalgar Square, and proceeded to get the weekend on its way. At about 8.00pm I thought that it might be a good idea for us to arrange somewhere for us to sleep. The manager of the pub gave us the number of a hotel agency and within 5 minutes we were booked into the Hotel Europe on Cromwell Road.

The story of the match itself is too well known for me to repeat it here but one small snapshot that sticks with me after all these years is worth relating. Our seats, having been obtained via my Tranmere Rovers contact, were in the stand (as opposed to the ticket for which I qualified via the ballot which was on the terrace behind the goal) and we were sitting alongside the then manager of Tranmere Rovers, Dave Russell and one of the club’s directors, Bill Bothwell, who I knew through my involvement in local cricket. Dave and Bill both had their wives with them, all dressed up in ‘best bib and tucker’, with Ascot style hats very much in evidence. When ‘Sir’ Roger scored the first goal my reaction was, shall we say, explosive. Bremner’s equaliser brought me back to earth for a while but when Ian St John headed Ian Callaghan’s cross for the winner I took off and ended up on Bill’s shoulders mouthing an almost silent cheer as my voice had almost completely gone in greeting our first goal. Whilst aboard my mate’s shoulders I looked down to see Mrs Russell and Mrs Bothwell looking up at me with barely concealed amazement. My embarrassment was complete when, in getting back down onto my seat I knocked Mrs Russell’s hat off!

When we got back to Merseyside after the game we were heading for the Wirral but had to go through the city centre (no M56 or M53 in those days) and we drove down Lime Street just after the first train had disgorged its ecstatic passengers. A conga line extended from the station, over Lime Street and wound its way around St George’s Hall plateau. The city was throbbing. We got back to Upton and had a drink.

The team’s return the following day needs an article to itself but the pictures which are shown elsewhere on this site are wonderfully evocative of a fabulous weekend in our city’s history.

When we sobered up on the Monday morning we realised that we had the small matter of a European Cup Semi Final 1st leg to negotiate the following evening. It is worth recalling those circumstances. The First Division Championship had been decided the previous week, the Cup Final had taken place and yet the semi finals of the European Cup had not even started.

As with all other games in those days no tickets had been issued for the Euro semi-final against Inter Milan and Bill and I got to the ground at 4.00pm (for a 7.30pm kick-off!) and we were by no means at the front of the queue. We got in, of course, but the wait for the game to start seemed interminable.

As kick-off approached the atmosphere was reaching fever pitch but a hiccup occurred as Inter Milan took the field first and had the temerity to approach the Kop end for their warm up. The verbal abuse they received was, to put it mildly, offensive. As it happened this ruse played against them because, after the Reds took the field to just about the most tumultuous reception imaginable, Shankly played a master stroke. He sent out Gordon Milne, a hugely popular player who had missed the Cup Final through injury, and Gerry Byrne, who we had been told over the week-end, had played all but the first 3 minutes of the Cup Final with a broken collar bone, to parade the Cup itself. They took a clock-wise walk around the pitch and the noise was just unbelievable. As they neared the Kop euphoria took over and as they paraded the trophy along the face of the Kop the Inter Milan goalie actually put his hands to his ears to keep out some of the noise.

What a build up to a game and for once the build up was justified as the hitherto almost unbeatable Inter Milan, who had introduced a sweeper system that became common-place but at the time seemed a formation almost impossible to score against, capitulated in the face of a red onslaught. An early goal from Roger Hunt was equalised but incessant pressure saw Ian Callaghan and Ian St John give us a seemingly impregnable lead.

The second leg, of course was one of the most contentious games that the Reds have ever played with Shankly, for one, convinced that we had been the victims of bent refereeing. We lost the game 3-0. A goal scored direct from a free kick which the referee had signalled as indirect and another when an Italian forward kicked the ball as Tommy Lawrence was bouncing it were just two of many controversial incidents but in the long term the game served as a good investment because the club, who were European ‘virgins’, took due note of what it took to be successful on the continent. Shankly and, to a greater extent, Bob Paisley filed the lessons away to be used in later and greater European triumphs.

One way and another the 1964-65 season was a pretty good one for Liverpool FC. We were all desperately disappointed by our defeat in Milan but, what the hell, WE’D WON THE CUP. Hallelujah!!!

Copyright - John Martin for LFChistory.net