I know what I was doing and thinking this time 60 years ago. Some people count their lives in spoons; I count my life on World Cups. In June 1966, I was thrilled that we had just had our first son, born a week earlier. And our wedding anniversary was coming up on June 11th. That day, I remember saying to my wife: “Sorry baby, the World Cup is starting soon. If you have something you want to say to me, say it now. I’ll have other things to think about for the next few weeks.”
At the time, we worried that England were wingless wonders. Alf Ramsey had given up on the wings, as he had done at Ipswich, flooding the midfield, which the fans thought was silly. Then, in the final on 30 July, he replaced Jimmy Greaves as striker, who had been injured but was now fit. For the final, he stuck with Geoff Hurst, who most fans outside of West Ham knew little about.
I took part in England’s semi-final against Portugal, which was fantastic; Eusébio was great. Then I managed to get a ticket for the final against West Germany. I still have it, price £5 – about the best and most expensive seat. On foot, you can get into Wembley for 10/6. This year, tickets for the final are in the thousands.
I can still clearly see Bobby Charlton (what a player, what a passer, what a haircut) and Bobby Moore (so calm and controlled) and Nobby Styles (so malnourished and toothless but such a terrier) – and Alf Ramsey trying to be posh, talking like a union official.
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I didn’t expect England to win. Brazil and Italy seemed to have better, modern and cultured players. But after our 4-2 win against West Germany, we left Wembley telling ourselves we were going to win it again.
It has now been 60 years of injury. If only it had been 60 years of Hurst. It won’t happen again in my lifetime. Well, I’m 90.
All this square passes, so depressing; defensive lumpen, pushing and shoving in corners, so annoying. England have a German manager – who would have thought that? The Premier League is now full of foreign players – it is only 31 per cent English – so he has had less to choose from. Spain’s World Cup squad has seven players placed in the Prem.
The absence of Jimmy Greaves in 1966 was mourned by fans. Now it’s the absence of Palmer, Foden and Maguire. Far someone, right?
But we all live in hope, as all fans have done every four years, getting excited as it gets closer to kickoff. I will watch every game on television. Poor old Gabby Logan, the BBC presenter, won’t even be in North America, not by the end – the Beeb can’t afford to send her. However, football is supposed to be filled with trillions today. Adidas reported sales of nearly £5.7 billion in the first quarter of 2026 thanks to World Cup kits, match balls, trainers.
The first World Cup was in 1930: England did not enter. Very tarnished and superior. We started football. What do these foreigners know about this? They finally entered in 1950 – and suffered the humiliation of being beaten by the US, who, at the time, were barely playing the game. This year there are 48 countries, including Scotland – in the tournament for the first time since 1998 – and Curaçao, the smallest World Cup host ever, with a population of 158,006, the size of the Isle of Wight.
I worry that England lack flair. Today in the Prem, coaches are obsessed with tackles, guided by boring videos and statistics, making players nervous, overly concerned about driving opponents into corners, afraid to express themselves. With 48 nations – there were 13 in 1966 – we’ll recognize many of the other nations’ players from the Prem. So we can support them after England and Scotland are full.
What am I saying? Of course they won’t. I predict England v Scotland in the final on July 19, with England winning and Kane getting a hat-trick to equal Geoff. You read it here first.
Hunter Davies book Back: The Boys Who Became The Beatles to be published by Ebury in September
(Further reading: It’s official – women’s football is better than men’s football)
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