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The wonder of Wembley - SBR interview


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Guest Knightrider

 

 

By PATRICK COLLINS

 

Sir Bobby Robson stands on the Wembley pitch, biting his lip and searching his memory. Suddenly his eyes light up and half a century slips away.

 

"It was over there, just about there," he says. "England versus France, Bryan Douglas on the byline and me in space."

 

He spreads his arms, demanding the pass. "He played this lovely little ball," he says. "I had all the goal to aim at. Know what? I buried it." And his smile lights up the stadium.

 

That smile lingers through the afternoon. For the old pro loved the old pile and contributed to its traditions, but the new Wembley is different. A year ago, he visited the building site and was suitably impressed. Now he has come to inspect the final stages of an extraordinary construction.

 

His gaze takes in the scarlet swathes of capacious seats, the vast sliding roof and the green carpet of Lincolnshire turf; all gathered beneath the signature arch, a 133-metre high piece of spectacular inspiration, soaring into the north London sky. "Class," announces Robson. "Sheer class. I’ve not seen better than this. Anywhere."

 

An impresario would sell his soul for such a testimonial, but you sense that Wembley will soon be wading through oceans of similar compliments as its protracted promises are stunningly delivered.

 

For months and years, the Wembley story has been one of delay and disappointment, of swollen costs and broken deadlines, of rancour, controversy, endless litigation and untold millions for m’learned friends.

 

No longer. Give or take a few exploratory skirmishes and a couple of dress rehearsals, the new stadium will be ready for Saturday, May 19.

 

Which will make this year’s FA Cup final the most avidly awaited since the afternoon of April 28, 1923, when tens of thousands of interlopers climbed the walls and rushed the turnstiles to watch Bolton Wanderers beat West Ham in the first Wembley final.

 

"Imagine playing in a final here. Wouldn’t that be something?" says Robson. He shakes his head in wonder.

 

Then a bigger thought strikes him.

 

"Imagine playing for your country here! All that noise,that passion. I’ve known it, me. God, I envy them."

 

His mind slips back to that game with France, in November 1957. England won 4-0 and Robson scored two goals.

 

The other two were scored by Manchester United’s Tommy Taylor and celebrated by his club colleagues,Roger Byrne and Duncan Edwards. Within three months, the three young men would be killed at Munich. Robson’s face tightens for a second, then he points across the field, and the smile returns.

 

"1961. Denis Law kicked me, just over there," he says. ‘Right in front of the Queen.I’ve still got the scar. Worth it, though. England 9 Scotland 3. And Denis kicked me."

 

The pitch itself intrigues him. He loved the old pitch with its luxurious turf and he recalls with a shudder how it was destroyed in the late Sixties.

 

"Scandalous! They held the Horse of the bloody Year Show on it," he snarls and makes it sound like a crime against humanity.

 

But this one is different, true and firm with a pleasing camber. Robson prods it with his heel and recalls a time when he managed Barcelona.

 

"We were playing Espanyol in the Nou Camp, local derby, and we’d just had our pitch seeded. And I was worried. Before the game, I said to the president: 'Mr President, this pitch won’t last'. He waved me away, said it was fine.

 

"Well, we’d only played five minutes and it looked like there were 10,000 hedgehogs on the field. Every step the players took tore up another chunk.

 

"Chunks all over the place,big as hedgehogs. They had to re-do the whole lot after that game.We won, by the way, 2-1."

 

Wembley’s head groundsman, Steve Welch, listens to this tale and assures his visitor that there will be no repetition.

 

"I’m confident we’ve got everything in place," he says. "It’s built to deal with all manner of things, including up to 12 inches of rain.’ If this part of London should ever suffer a foot of rain, then the Wembley pitch may not be its first concern. But no matter. Sir Bobby is placated.

 

"Anyway," he says, "This place is better than the Nou Camp. I mean, there’s nothing much there except the stands and the pitch. This has got restaurants, bars, cafes, all built in. And that roof; keeps the fans dry but leaves the field open to the weather. How sophisticated is that? And every seat with a perfect view, not a pillar in sight.

 

"Fantastic. I’m trying to think of other places. South America? Great big bowls, no character. The Stade de France? I like that, all right. One of my favourites. But this is better."

 

We are shown how the windows of the hospitality boxes are shaped so that the crowd noise revolves around the ground.‘Acoustic engineering’ is the term. For some of us this represents worrying evidence that the whole place has been designed with corporate clients rather too firmly in mind.

 

The Wembley authorities defend the apparent imbalance on economic grounds, arguing that a stadium costing the thick end of £800 million requires the kind of large-scale, longterm investment which only the corporate sector can guarantee. Still,at least one affluent,non-playing patron has already made his contribution.

 

David Beckham ordered a £2m, 20-seat box the moment it came on the market. Sir Bobby has no such plans but he can understand why people should want to be part of the place.

 

He sits in the home dugout and approves the view. He puts his head in the room which Steve McClaren will occupy; fridge, desk, en-suite facilities, no sharp objects.He inspects the dressing room; vast, light and infinitely luxurious. He inspects the deep, wooden lockers above the players’ seats.

 

"Must be where they keep their money."

 

He drools over the large warm-up area.

 

"Very necessary, this. They can get the feel of the ball, stretch, prepare. Don’t know how we did without it.’

 

He walks across the large, communal area where the teams will come together before and after matches: "Smashing place for a punch-up", he says, cheerfully.

 

Finally, he wanders into the Press Conference room, the small theatre where generations of England managers are destined to face the firing squad. Robson used to handle the media quite brilliantly, but even he had his difficult days.

 

Again the smile. "I remember losing to Holland in the 1988 European Championship. I heard this voice say: 'Coach Robson, how could an England team with players like Shilton, Hoddle, Robson and Lineker lose to Holland?' And I thought: 'That’s a hell of a question'.

 

But I couldn’t see who’d asked it. "I said: “Let me tell you the reason”. I couldn’t, of course. Didn’t have an idea. But I started reciting the names of their side: Muhren, Rijkaard, two Koemans, Gullit, Van Basten. And I said: “That’s why they won”, as if it was an answer. It turned out the feller with the question was from Malta. Malta! I’ll tell you, you’ve got to be ready for anything."

 

He chuckles his way out of the stadium, his spirits raised by the sheer magnificence of the place.

 

For all its rich nostalgia, the old Wembley also evokes depressing memories of frying hamburgers, stale beer, overflowing urinals and wholly inadequate public provision, all in the shadow of a kitsch pair of twin towers.

 

By happy contrast, the new one simply reeks of class.

 

Sir Bobby appreciates it, and he is at ease with the world as he takes his leave. A young lad approaches and requests an autograph. Robson signs and smiles.

 

"Thank you, sir," says the lad. "Thank you for asking, son," says Sir Bobby. ‘Hey,what d’you think of the stadium?’ ‘Great,’ says the lad. ‘Yeah, great,’ says Sir Bobby.

 

He pats the young man on the shoulder and moves on. Then he pauses, turns and nods. "You know," he says, "We’ve got the best stadium in the world."

 

It is a bold judgment, but the old pro has got it just right.

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"Imagine playing in a final here. Wouldn’t that be something?" says Robson. He shakes his head in wonder."

 

Could last Wednesday get any more depressing. :lol:

 

 

Good article though. Loving Bobby, and fingers crossed that it does all come together as magnificently as it sounds.

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