Between the Sticks. Alan Hodgkinson

I had been selected for the England Under-23 international against Denmark.

      Henry Rose devoted most of his column in the Daily Express to previewing the match. I flushed just a tad when I saw the headline – ‘Army ’Keeper Wins Under-23 Cap’. This was followed by a sub-heading given to Rose by someone at Sheffield United, which read, ‘Greatest ever, says his club’. No pressure then.

      The article is dotted with excruciating puns: ‘this private’s progress’, ‘marching towards a great career in the game’, ‘nothing uniform about his selection’ – you’ve read such articles… According to Rose, my selection for the England Under-23 team was toasted with pints in the NAAFI at Catterick. Even if that was true I knew it didn’t mean anything, they’d have toasted my grandmother’s new shoes in there if it meant them having another pint. Rose makes much of me having been at ‘Worksop Town in the Midlands League less than three years ago’ and, though I am about to make my debut for England Under-23s, rather than speculate as to how I may fare at that level, dives straight in by suggesting I am ‘within driving distance of a full England cap’. The most striking aspect to the article, however, is when Rose refers to me as being, ‘almost 5 foot 7 inches tall’. Even for the time I was not the tallest of goalkeepers, but five-seven was three inches off the mark. In this respect Rose epitomised the cigar-chomping sports writer of the day: rarely would they let the facts get in the way of a good story.

      An unknown source at Sheffield United – the quote is simply attributed to ‘his club’ – is quoted as saying, ‘Hodgkinson will turn out to be the greatest goalkeeper this country has ever seen.’ I smarted when I read that. Even at nineteen years of age I saw it as a possible millstone around my neck; the sort of quote from an unattributed source that, should a player go through a particularly bad spell of form, will come back to haunt him, as badly as if the player had said it himself.

      The England Under-23 team was a relatively new concept, the game in Denmark being only the fifth fixture, the first having taken place in 1954 against Italy in Bologna after which there had been a twelve-month hiatus until England Under-23s met their Italian counterparts again at Stamford Bridge. The concept of an England Under-23 team was the brainchild of England manager Walter Winterbottom, the purpose of which was to groom future full England players. The idea had grown in popularity and come 1956 England were playing four or five such games a season.

      England Under-23 home matches nearly always took place in the provinces, at such grounds as St James’s Park (Newcastle), Roker Park (Sunderland), Carrow Road (Norwich City), Ashton Gate (Bristol City), Home Park (Plymouth Argyle), The Dell (Southampton) and Hillsborough (Sheffield Wednesday). The idea was to bring international football to a city or town that would not normally stage that level of representative football. To have such an honour bestowed upon it, the local football club had to be well supported, as this more or less guaranteed a healthy attendance for the England Under-23 fixture. Just to be sure, the FA selection committee would often include in the England team a player from the local club, which always put an extra few thousand on the gate. This explains why there are one or two players of the time who enjoyed journeyman careers but, among their personal memorabilia, can boast an England Under-23 cap awarded for a home game.

      You can play away from home in England among unfamiliar surroundings, yet they never look as unfamiliar and alien to you as your surroundings when you play abroad. I have always felt this wherever I have played throughout the world and I remember first being aware of this prior to the England Under-23 game against Denmark in Copenhagen. The stadium that hosted the game was flanked by flats some five storeys high and what looked to me like office blocks of similar height. When you look at the surroundings of a ground and see unfamiliar styles of house, office, street lighting and particularly church, it emphasises you are indeed a long way from home turf. Our National Anthem never sounds the same when played, as it was in those days, by a band either, and this difference was more pronounced the further from England you went. In South America for example, prior to the 1962 World Cup the military bands before our matches against Ecuador and Colombia somehow contrived to give our National Anthem a mariachi feel.

      Denmark were duly beaten 3–0 and I was to keep my place for England Under-23’s next game the following month, a goalless draw against France at Ashton Gate. My fellow Signals serviceman and Sheffield United teammate Graham Shaw played at left-back in this game, his partner on the right flank being West Brom’s Don Howe. The match was noteworthy for featuring the first official substitute of any England representative match when Doncaster Rovers’ Alick Jeffrey was replaced in the second half by Colin Booth (Wolves). Though substitutes were not allowed in Football League matches until 1965–66, they had been part and parcel of continental football since the 1930s. FIFA allowed substitutes for international matches at all levels, but England had never previously taken advantage. The first substitutes to feature in a full England game happened when we visited Mexico in April 1959. Warren Bradley (Manchester United) replaced Doug Holden (Bolton Wanderers) and minutes later Ron Flowers came on for Wilf McGuinness (Manchester United).

      In February 1957, I kept goal for England Under-23s against Scotland at Ibrox. A game which the posters around Glasgow and the match programme proudly announced would take place ‘Under Floodlights’. Again, Graham Shaw was included in the England team as was Alan Finney (Sheffield Wednesday) and a fantastic young left-winger, David Pegg (Manchester United). This game also marked the first appearance in an England shirt of a young centre-forward from Middlesbrough by the name of Brian Clough – much more of whom later. Included in the Scotland side were Alex Young and Dave Mackay (both Hearts), Eric Caldow (Rangers) and an amateur who, in keeping with Queen’s Park tradition, appeared on the team sheet and in the match programme under the initials of his first names followed by his surname – ‘W.G.M. Glen (Queen’s Park)’ which, to me, lent him the dusty formality of a Victorian cricketer. Curiously no player from Celtic featured for Scotland. Another very healthy attendance of 42,897 saw a 1–1 draw. Jack Dyson (Manchester City) scored for England whilst the Scotland goal came from the penalty spot courtesy of Hearts’ Billy Crawford. It was hard-hit penalty, driven low and to my right. I remember thumping the ground with frustration when it went in because I got the fingertips of my right hand to the ball but only managed sufficient leverage to push it into the inside side netting.

      A couple of weeks after appearing for England Under-23s at Ibrox, I completed my National Service, was de-mobbed and immediately returned to Sheffield United. On my first day back in the fold I noticed how much had changed under Joe Mercer’s management. For a start he was out on the training ground taking the training. Secondly, he supervised the coaching sessions. Third, there was such a thing as coaching sessions. Reg Freeman was a lovely man whose management belonged to the pre-war days; Joe Mercer was what today you’d call a ‘hands-on manager’. There were new faces around the training ground and some of the old faces, if they hadn’t moved on, sported the sort of expression which suggested they knew they were about to.

      On that very first morning back Joe Mercer took me to one side. After welcoming me back to full-time football and a little conversation about my time in the Signals, he asked me if I was match fit and ‘up for the big challenge at this club’. I answered him in the affirmative on both counts.

      ‘Good, I’ve been waiting for you to be demobbed,’ he told me, ‘From now on, you are my number one goalkeeper. I’ll have Ted in after training and let him know the score.’

      There were seventeen games left of the 1956–57 season but I very much felt I was beginning a new season. I reasoned Joe Mercer must have had every confidence in me to instate me as the regular number one and the fact that he had such confidence in my ability spurred me to repay his belief in me.

      United enjoyed an unbeaten run of eight matches, the pick of which was a resounding 6–0 victory at Port Vale. I felt for their keeper, John Poole; the regular Vale goalkeeper, Ray King, was injured and John came into the team for his first game of the season. As we left the field John was inconsolable but, remembering how a few words from Jackie Milburn and Trevor Ford had meant so much to me, I made a point of talking to him over a beer after the game. I told him not to shoulder the blame. We’d been on fire and on such form we would have put most Second Division sides to the sword. I told John not to think too much about the game but to concentrate on