Chapter 13. On All Sorts of Pitches

We are fully justified, in my opinion, in being proud of the fact that we - that is, England - have not yet, at the time of writing, been beaten by a Continental side playing on an English ground. The record is something we can boast about. It's surprising, in a way, that the pupils - the Continental players are largely the product of British tutors - have not proved equal to beating the teachers on our grounds. They are good footballers, these foreigners, keeping their noses down to it, receiving, in many instances, greater financial rewards and incentives than our own players. There is one precaution which we could take - not often referred to - by way of making almost sure that these Continentals don't beat us on our own grounds. We should see to it that we only play them on heavy pitches. They don't often play on that sort of pitch, whereas our players just have to get used to them.

The test for our individual footballers (and for our teams) is whether they can play well on all sorts of pitches. We certainly get a hotch potch in the course of an average football season. One week the game has to be played on the ground, the next week it has to be played in the ground. Between the two extremes there is no lack of variety. One of these days we may solve some of the problems which the clerk of the weather sets our footballers. We may be able to keep the pitches free from the effects of frost. We may find ways and means of keeping them comparatively dry, and possibly even grow grass which will stand up to the wear and tear of regular play in all sorts of weather. Until that day arrives it will remain true that the team which wins any championship - and I don't mean only First, Second or Third Division championship -will be the one which can play best on all sorts of pitches. The best players, and the best teams, are those capable of adapting themselves to the existing conditions; of using them to their own advantage.

Mind you, I think there are ways already to hand in which our play and players could be helped to produce better stuff on the difficult pitches. The white ball has come into use in recent times. Many of the players of my generation wish we had known about it in our time. The white ball is covered with some substance which prevents it from absorbing water or picking up mud to the same extent as the commonly used brown leather ball. During one First Division match last season I saw the white ball used throughout the whole game. The pitch was inches deep in mud. When the ball, which had been white, became dirty, the referee called for a clean one of the same kind. The football was of better quality than it would have been with an ordinary ball.

On the same day, under similar pitch conditions, the ordinary ball was used in other games. Why, in the name of common sense, and in the interests of everybody concerned, this white ball isn't more generally used during the worst of the winter, beats me. It isn't just a case of using an object which can be better seen and followed. The players like it.

Remember, too, that the makers of the original football laws came to the conclusion that the weight of the object to be kicked up and down the field mattered. It is laid down in the rules that the football shall weigh, at the start of a game, not more than sixteen ounces, fourteen to sixteen ounces being the agreed ideal weight at the start of the match. Surely arrange-ments should be made to keep, roughly, to such weights throughout the ninety minutes of play. Not long ago I tested 1 ball which had been used throughout a match. It then weighed twenty-one ounces!

However, the question of whether there should be a society for the prevention of cruelty to footballers can be left in abeyance. We have to take conditions as they exist, and the thing the footballer should do, before the game starts, is to get to know all he can about the conditions under which the game has to be played. I have heard players of first-class teams in the dressing-room say at half-time that they were beaten by the state of the pitch, that they weren't properly shod. The half-time interval may be too late to make the discovery, and there is no good excuse for 'not knowing what the pitch was like'. Take a look at it before the game starts. Try it. Run about on it. There may be places where the pitch varies.

Taking things in something like proper sequence, consider the general state of the weather. At times the toss does matter. Some may dissent from this view, but experience tells me that on the day when there is a wind blowing from end to end, maybe with driving rain as well, there is one wise decision to make when the toss has been won. Use the conditions as the twelfth man. I remember the toss before a match on the Blackpool ground, which slopes a little towards one end. Rain was coming down in torrents. The skipper who won the toss said: 'We'll play with the tide'. He was right. Play with the tide.

Several good reasons can be given for the decision to use weather conditions. One of them is that the state of things at the start of a game is known. They may not be the same during the second half. The sun goes down, or the slant of its rays change during the course of a match. Again, when the climatic conditions are in favour of one side, that side may be helped to a winning lead with the other fellows so tired out, trying to stop the tide, that by the time the conditions turn in their favour, they are not in the physical state to make use of them.

So much for the kick-off. Now turn to the pitch itself. Let us assume for the moment that it is soft, perhaps up to the ankles, or over them, in mud. The surest thing about this type of pitch, whether it is the village green or Hampden Park, is that the mud will not be of the same consistency all over. Because of the extra wear, there are two places where the average pitch is at its worst in wet weather. One is along the centre of the field, and the other is round the goalmouth. For the attackers then, the tactical policy must be to give the ball, as often as possible, to the players who have the most favourable chance of working it forward - the wingers.

Plugging the ball up the middle to the centre-forward, where he has to plough rather than play, is the short cut to attending his 'funeral'. He will 'die on his feet' before the game is over. Let the wing men do even more of the carrying than usual. Where they play there is usually some grass left, even in the middle of winter, and on that grass the ball behaves itself to a reasonable extent.

Even good players, those who should know, often neglect or forget to suit their play to the pitch. I recently saw the inside forwards of Aston Villa play like world-beaters in the early part of a First Division match, but before the end of that same game they had faded right out. At the start of that game the pitch was reasonably good. The ball could be 'worked', closely, and the inside forwards of the Villa did work it artistically and effectively. As the play proceeded, however, the tramp of feet so churned up the pitch that it became like a Christmas pudding. The ball, as well as the players, was carrying some of the pitch around. As the surface got worse, so did the play of those clever Villa inside forwards. They continued to try the close stuff, making passes along the ground which, on the sticky surface, failed to reach the intended objective, and thus helped the opposing defenders. Instead of booting the ball, they fiddled with it, getting nowhere at a slower and slower pace.

Here I may refer to the pitch on which Cup Finals are played. For these occasions Wembley is always described as being in perfect condition, the sort of pitch, it is said, on which any real footballer ought to be able to play well. As the Wembley pitch is kept almost exclusively for the occasional ultra-important match there is a lovely velvet carpet of grass on a smooth surface even late in April. The football in Cup Finals, however, and also in the England v. Scotland games, has often been disappointing. Part of the explanation lies in the fact that, at that time of the year, Wembley represents for the players something different. They have probably come from fields mostly bare, perhaps hard as iron. They find themselves on the green carpet, which slows down the ball, and on which it is so easy to get too far under it. Even at Wembley the playing area varies. Because of the use made of part of the pitch for greyhound-racing, a portion of the ground has to be re-laid each year. The 'new' pieces don't settle down to the consistency of the other parts of the pitch. That is my personal reflection after playing in five Cup Finals on this pitch. I merely mention it to illustrate the importance of what I said earlier, of taking stock of the playing surface before the game starts.

It is not my purpose to tell players who get to Wembley how to win the Cup, or how to win an International match there. The reference to the pitch does contain a warning, however. What I have said here about Wembley may be the explanation of something connected with the games there concerning which much comment has been made: the number of shots which go over the bar. On the Wembley grass the ball is, as it were, teed up. It is so easy to get the toe underneath.

Now let's go back to the difficult places on the average pitch during the wet winter months. Often the worst place is under the goalposts, and two or three yards in front of them. Here it is easy for the goalkeeper to make mistakes. If he is wise he will take up position, for most of the game, well in front of the goal-line. He shouldn't make the conditions worse for himself by patrolling between the posts to keep himself warm. The goalkeeper, of all the players, must beware of those 'different' spots. Last season, watching a match between Fulham and Millwall, I saw what was properly described as a freak goal. It was scored from near the centre-line, and off the head of a Fulham player at that. The Millwall goalkeeper took a goal-kick. As the ball was coming down, around mid-field, Fulham full-back Reg Lowe 'hit it', with his head, back towards goal. It was a sticky-pitch day, and the young Millwall goalkeeper, obviously expecting the ball to keep low when it struck the ground, went out to meet it, even bending down in position to make the catch. The ball struck a hard patch, however, and off this it bounced over the head of the goalkeeper and into the net. A freak goal, yes. But also a lesson for the young goalkeeper. Don't trust the ball to do the expected thing under abnormal conditions.

Because the ball so often does the wrong thing on a muddy and uneven surface, there is another point which attackers should bear in mind on such occasions. That is to chase every ball. The bounce, the variation of pace, or even the greasy cover of the ball may beat the full-back or the centre-half, causing him to foozle a clearance which, under good conditions, he would have made in comfort, and the chasing of which, by an attacker, would have been a waste of wind and energy. It is profitable to remember, too, that on the wet or muddy pitches the advantage is with the man who is moving forward, rather than with the fellow who has to turn. Why does the average number of goals scored in first-class football go up when the pitches are treacherous? The answer is that, apart from the mistakes caused by conditions, defenders can't turn quickly. If they try to - well, they may find themselves numbered among the muddied oafs.

That's the reason why footballers who know their job make up their minds on these awkward pitches to cut out the fancy stuff almost completely. The player who tries to twist and turn on such pitches doesn't need to be beaten by his opponents. He beats himself. Success is more likely to be achieved by keeping the ball moving, which demands strength in the leg muscles.

As a heavy ball, on a wet surface, can't be relied upon to obey the accepted rules, the passes should be made to the feet of the player for whom the ball is intended, rather than ahead of him. On top of it all, on these slippery pitches, 'have a go' when the goal looms in view.

Hereabouts the question is likely to be asked: What about the studs to use on these varied pitches? The short reply is that the perfect arrangement of studs hasn't yet been invented, and I doubt if it will be. Good players differ as to the best arrangement even for normal pitches. Through my playing career I came to the conclusion that cone-shaped studs suited me best, four in each sole, and two in each heel. I also found that I could get a better grip, on the turn, with the stud on the inside of the boot a little further from the edge of the sole than the stud on the outside of the boot. Johnny Mclntyre, a Blackburn Rovers' colleague of mine, who in one match scored four goals in five minutes, had a preference for one of his studs being placed on the toe. He may have been right in the impression that this helped him to pivot when on his toes. There's no harm in making the experiment.

For the slippery, hard grounds, with ice on top, I had a personal preference for very short studs. Under such conditions some players advocate strips of rubber, though I myself never had the same satisfactory feeling of contact when thus equipped.

Rules can't be laid down in relation to studs for pitches. One player's meat is another player's poison.

One last tip about the studs, however, and about this one I don't think there is any argument. On sticky grounds, with clinging mud about, put vaseline round the studs before the match starts. It helps to keep the mud clear of the studs. No footballer can really give of his best if he is carrying pieces of the pitch around with him. On such days, too - with the same object in view - it pays to blacklead the football boots all over. Such treatment helps towards making them waterproof. The mud doesn't stick so much to blackleaded boots, either. If it is true that twice-armed is he who gets his blow in first, then thrice-armed are the players most suitably shod for the pitch on which they have to play.

Whatever the pitch or weather conditions, two main principles should be kept in mind. The first is to make the effort to master them. The second is to make use of them. Conditions won't win matches for you, but I have seen lots of players whose methods suggested that they thought they would. For instance, when a half-gale is blowing, it isn't good enough for the fellows playing with it at their backs to boot the ball as hard as they can and run after it at top speed. Such slapdash method adds up to abuse, rather than use, of the helping wind. Forward kicking must be controlled. Indeed, I would say that it is easier to play good football against a fairly strong wind that it is to play with such a wind. Against the wind the ball comes back to meet the player. If the wind is behind the ball overruns the player, unless the kicking is controlled. But when the wind is adding pace to the ball, the advice 'shoot hard, shoot often' should certainly be followed.