Who's the greatest of them all?
Little curly Alan Ball!

Ian MacDonald

That was the claim of many, every time I ask an elder Evertonian, their eyes light up like a kid at Christmas.  

"Ah, Bally, what a player, what a player.  I still can't believe they sold him."  

"I remember him turning his back with the ball to the opponent and then sitting on it, everybody laughed and applauded" 

"Ah that goal he scored against them in front of over 100,000 fans, I'll never forget that.  The reds at Anfield said it never happened — it was only in the film's (the game in front of 65,000 fans at a packed Goodison Park was beamed back by close-circuit TV to Anfield and another 40,000 fans); he was a flame haired winner who drove his team mates to a point of mutiny." 

"I'll never forget the day we sold him; the reds danced with joy gleefully showing us the banner headlines in the Daily Mirror.  Many fans threw their tickets back in disgust at selling the family silver."  

For we younger Evertonians, can you imagine waking up one morning and finding out Wayne has been sold!

Alan Ball joined us just after winning the World Cup with England in 1966;  he came from Blackpool, were another great, Gordon West, had been just a few years earlier.  The fee was a British transfer record (yet again) by the Mersey Millionaires of  £110,000  — mind-blowing at the time.  Viv Nicholson won £100,000 on the pools and was considered a celebrity.

When I think back how many times we smashed the transfer record in this country....  Even back to the great 'Dixie' to Bobby Latchford (who walks on water by the way), Adrian Heath, Tony Cottee, Dave Watson (for a defender)... and then the piggy bank ran away, tired of being smashed.

Yes, Bally was a player any manager would love to have; he hated losing and would argue with everybody during the match.  A few things I remember about him were his temperament and the way he would throw his arms about over decisions; I'll bet his card would be marked by those at Lancaster Gate if he played today.  

The fogginess of time had me believe that he was sent off a lot but in fact it was only a couple of times or so whilst playing in the Royal Blue jersey.  He was a human dynamo on the field of play; rumour had it he had a heart three times bigger than that of a normal human being.  He ran and ran all game; he scored 58 goals in his first three seasons — from midfield!  He was also the first Everton player to score a hat-trick in Europe — against the mighty Keflavik.

When the opportunity arose to see the great man himself at a dinner organised by Everton, it didn't take me long to decide I'd go.  So it was back to Goodison Park on Thursday 10 April 2003 for another memorable night.  (We may have to get used to attending on this day of the week for games in the UEFA Cup...)  We go upstairs to the Joe Mercer suite for drinks; then we are ushered into my second home of late — the Alex Young suite.

As we sit for tonight's latest ex-hero offerings, the MC for the night, Wally (an Everton scout of more than twenty years) told us the format for the night: a three-course dinner, Alan Ball, and then a young comedian / mimic by the name of Leslie Gibbon.

As usual, raffle tickets were offered for such prizes as an autographed picture of Bally, a weekend for two in London including a show (wonder who puts them on?), an autographed ball, bottles of wine etc for £5 a strip.  Dinner finished and then the top table turned into the Last Supper with guess who in the middle.  The one and only Alan Ball!

Bally said thanks for the great applause for the after-dinner squeaker.  This is his home and always will be.  From the south coast, where he lives now, he's watched the re-birth of the Blues with pride and admiration.  He thanked David Moyes for the great job he is doing and the remarkable kid we have at Number 18 — a fantastic find.   Bally said he could see light now at the end of the tunnel for his club.

The Ball of Fire went on to talk of how hard it was in management when he went to Pompey for the second time; his name was in chalk on the door and, more worrying, a sponge on the floor.  He was desperately sad when Man City sacked him; he thought he had left everybody down and stayed indoors a full week away from the media.  When he did leave the house, he noticed an old lady struggling across the road.  He went over to her and asked "Can you manage?"   She replied, "A bit better than you did!"

He remembered his days at Southampton and told of the time when they were getting beaten by Newcastle at home with three minutes to go.  His team then scored three goals in two and a half minutes and won the game.  Afterwards he could hear Keegan lambasting his Magpies, saying if results did not pick up then he'd bring new faces in.  Beardsley replied "Can I have one!"

Bally said that not a day goes past when someone doesn't ask him about his World Cup win.  Of where they were and how did it changed his life?  Alan then described his career from being turned down by Wolves after 12 months by Stan Cullis; and Bolton citing the reason that he was too small and lightweight.  Bolton said he was better suited to being a jockey.  He stayed at home to finish school and wrote to every team in the North West for a trial.  Blackpool replied and on a cold Saturday at Fleetwood he did enough to get a 12-month contract.

He left his home in Farnworth and got digs in Blackpool.  Urged on by his dad, his mentor, Bally worked hard and got his chance when Stanley Matthews got injured; he played his first-team debut at Anfield.

The reds were just promoted but lost 1-2 to a Blackpool team inspired by Ball who scored a goal as well.  Bally said that Anfield was his lucky ground and scoring was no problem against them.  As ever, his Dad trimmed his wings and told him he was not a footballer yet and had to prove himself over a season.  It slaughtered him at the time but in hindsight his Dad taught him a lesson; Bally was just 17.

Then came the World Cup and the lad from Farnworth played himself into the last 28 players for the squad; ultimately, six would become failures in the final squad of 22.  A week of tests at Lilleshall to see who would make it to the greatest football tournament of all — and to be held at home England!
The names on that fateful Friday morning were read out in alphabetical order so Bally knew he would know early then.  First name out: Alan Ball.  Everything else went past him; who was left out?  It never mattered — he was in for the big one.

Bally rang to tell his dad of the great news.  His dad as always came back with saying it was good but he would have to get into the team now.

Bally cited the reason England won the World Cup was that they had five world-class players: Banks, Moore, Bobby Charlton, Greaves and our own Ray Wilson.  Loyalty was manager Alf Ramsey's main attribute; it was said it was harder to get out of his teams than to get into them.  Ramsey told the squad that generals and foot soldiers cannot win wars on their own but together they can.  Bally spoke of his friend Nobby Stiles and how nice he was off the pitch — but on it he was a nightmare.  Nobby once asked Alan why did opposing players take an instant dislike to him.  Alan replied because it saved time!

Ramsey told Bally and Nobby to go fetch the ball for Bobby Charlton so he could pepper the goal or make a 50-yd pass.  Everyone in Ramsey's team had a certain job to do and to play for each other.   In the semi-final against Portugal, Ramsey said to Nobby to mark their jewel in the crown — the great Eusebio.  Nobby replied "For life?"

Bally went on to describe the feeling of walking onto the pitch in front of 100,000 fans; it's awesome and never to be forgotten.  The night before the Final, the squad still did not know who would be picked.  He spoke to his father, who would only come down to watch if his son was picked.  Saturday morning the wait was over and Bally's dad went down to Wembley for the greatest England game to unfold.  His dad, as always, advised him that the match and day would fly past and he had to put in the performance of his life otherwise he would regret it for the rest of his life — and, by the way, don't come home beaten!

Eleven players from the twenty-two (there were no subs then) strood out that afternoon to make history.  Gladiators in an arena were there could only be one winner.  As you know, we (were back to "we" again thanks to our Wayne...) won and that disputed goal was a mile over the line —.honest!

So, after the final and the celebrations, where was Bally to go?  The Lake District!  Alan had booked a week there to reflect and holiday but, after three days, he came back to Blackpool to train; he was bored. As he walked in to the training ground, the Blackpool manager screamed at him "where have you been?  We've tried to get hold of you for ages.  You've been sold.  A British transfer record has been agreed with two clubs involved.  You decided which one."

So, as per usual his Dad the biggest influence in his life was phoned.  "What do I do Dad ?"  His father asked, "Who are the teams involved?"  "Everton and Leeds," came the answer.  His dad just replied to young Alan, "Look, lad, we'll discuss this at length tonight.  Don't worry; together we'll sort it out what will be the best for you.  Oh, and by the way, you're staying in Lancashire!"

As I've described before, Bally was told by Harry Catterick, the then Everton manager, "Welcome to the big time!"  As he looked around the dressing room at his new teammates, he was in awe.  Players like Roy Vernon, Brian Labone, Ray Wilson, Brian Harris, Alex Young, Gordon West (his old Blackpool teammate), Jimmy Gabriel, Colin Harvey, and Dennis Stevens — to name a few.  Alan said it was a wonderful football club.  He was just 21.

On the Friday, he went down to London to make his debut against Fulham.  The train was packed with Evertonians.  He understood how Wayne must feel now; it's just unbelievable what's happening.  That Friday night, Jimmy Gabriel asked young Bally if he want to go for a walk to calm himself.  Bally agreed and they walked into a pub!

Believe it or not, Bally had never been in a pub before.  Bally asked his new teammate what did the Evertonians expect of him.  "Give 100% every match — that's what they want, like any other football fan."  Bally scored on his debut the following day at Craven Cottage; we won 1 - 0.  On the train home, Bally never had a minute's peace from his new adoring fans.  An Everton great was born. 

Two weeks later, Alan was back at Anfield Road — in a Royal Blue shirt this time — and scored two goals in a 3-1 win.  He always said it was his lucky ground.  In 1969, he went back again with the Champions elect.  Two goals from Big Joe Royle and Alan Whittle practically secured the title — how sweet that must have been.  Alan never held any fears playing against them. 

Harry Catterick never coached the team — he just used to help train them and they would express themselves.  His backroom staff of Wilf Dixon (trainer) and Norman Borodale (physio) were vitally important in his estimation; they were very important in the big picture of this successful Everton side in the sixties.

Bally then described his team-mates briefly.  He talked of Gordon West like another father from his Blackpool days; Westy clipped his head every day.  Alex Young had the greatest ever football brain — he showed young Alan how to get space and shooting at angles. 

Colin Harvey and Howard Kendall were described as the best two footballers he has played with in a team — some compliment from a World Cup winning player!  He still can't believe they only conjured up one England cap between them.  Big Joe held up play for them and knocked down balls for the rest of the team to score.  Jimmy Husband — Bally can only remember one bad game he played.  Unfortunately it had to be in the FA Cup Final loss to West Brom, Jimmy took the ball off Alan's head who would have scored a certain goal and headed it over the bar himself .  We battered them but went home losers.  Folklore says that Bally threw his loser's medal away at the final; he was not interested in losing any game. 

Another World Cup came, in Mexico this time, but it was not to be; the conditions were too much for the European sides.  He was often asked why the white boots?  He answered one word:  "Money!"   His Dad said to him over the new trend in footwear "I hope you're good, so the crowd don't laugh at you."  They were the worst boots he had to play football in so he would get his favoured Adidas boots painted by the boot boy at the time Ronnie Goodlass.  Rain washed the paint away one match so he never got paid. 

Then the time came to explain his departure from our great club and the explanation hit home hard.   That fateful morning when he came in as usual to train, he was summoned by the Catt (the Everton manager's nickname).  He was told the Everton Board had had an offer from Arsenal and they accepted it.  Bertie Mee was down stairs to finalise personal details, it was up to him now!

Bally asked his dad yet again for advice.  He replied, "Just ask the boss, does he want you to go?  He said "Yes."  "Then run as fast as you can away from Everton and go to Arsenal." 

After Bally agreed terms, he went upstairs to say goodbye to his boss of six years.  He told the Catt thanks for everything, but then he said, "I'm your captain, I'm playing well, I play for England, I was your record signing.  Why then am I going?  I don't want to go really but you want me to."

"Well, son, it's true," replied Catterick.  "The fee I bought you for was a record but we are selling you now for a new record — £220,000.  We've doubled our money after six years — that's business!"  A few conversations I had this night did reveal that Bally never played as well at Arsenal and that he eventually lost his pace.  To be honest, in reflection, maybe The Board was right... but the Championship-winning 1970s side — who had an average age of just 23 — fell away after this deal. 

Rumours of paying off gambling debts, etc were clung onto by the Evertonians at the time, wanting to know the real reason why their hero was sold at his peak.  The news of Bally's sale was met like a death in the family.  Only time would heal the scars of this deal — in the same way as a loss of a loved one.  Bally was truly loved by Evertonians far and wide.

Alan closed his speech with this: "My heart will always be here; I played the best football of my life at Everton and it was because of you fans.  You took my heart and soul;  Thank you."

Cue St David's song: "He's got red hair and we don't care Alan, Alan Ball."

Following last night's dinner, which came in the same week as Howard Kendall's do on Monday night, there is a piece on the same theme I wrote a few years ago for David France and a Blueblood book, look out below!  

PS there was some hecklers last night who tried to spoil a great evening for the many who idolised Bally.  I think they came as corporate guests on freebies and obviously not from the true faith or could take their drink.  Bally and the great mimic Leslie Gibson had a hard time from these inbreds.  To them as I said last night, grow up and take a good look at yourselves.  Forgive them father for they know not what they do — the same as slugs.  Finishing on a better note, my mate Matty said goodbye to Bally outside at Goodison by kissing his feet!

A REIGN TOO FLEETING
Written for Gwladys Street's Holy Trinity — Kendall, Harvey & Ball

With the fogginess of time and precipitated memory loss due to excess Stella and WKD intake brought on by a decade of decay (except for a '95 Cup win), the Everton early seventies team are distorted in my grey matter.  But I'll try to make some explanation of where did it all go pear-shaped for this Championship team.  I remember all the names and what they were so famous for at the time.  The league was a lot stronger in depth, unlike now, there weren't any one- or two-horse races.  So an Everton championship side was more exiting than usual, it had to be because of the competition. 

We had experts in every area and of course the 'Holy Trinity'.  I bet kids from out of town could even name our team and that is a tribute reserved for only the best.  And we were the best.  I remember the final home game of the 1969-70 Championship.  It was against West Brom, our Cup hoodoo side of 1968 (one bleeding attack on goal and Jeff Astle gets a place in history and a Karaoke spot on Beadle and Skinner), all the West Brom players formed two lines on the pitch and applauded our hero's onto the hollowed turf.  

We won 2-0 and the champagne flowed with the customary lap of honour.  I turned to my Dad sat next to me in the Upper Bullens Stand and hugged him and thanked him for bringing me into this world an Evertonian.  I love my Dad he saw Dixie score his sixtieth goal you know, priceless.

Anyway, back to the mystery of the 1970's side; well, after the league win it was World Cup duty for some of our players.  West was picked but refused to go if he wasn't guaranteed a place in the side; Westy stayed in Maghull, Merseyside.  Ball, Labone, Wright and Newton went on to burn their lungs out in Mexico.  It was noticeable that the England players who played at this high-altitude oxygen-restricted country never re-captured their form in the following season at home.  Speaking of England, it will always be a mystery why Howard Kendall was never capped.  

In that following season, West put his own captain out of the game for a while with devastating consequences.  Labone was the victim of a skirmish in the Everton goalmouth I think it was away at Burnley I might be wrong.  Our Manager, who had assembled this very good side, took ill and was never the same.  Then a catalytic disaster of 10 on the Richter scale had also befallen us; Bally was sold!  

Yes, I still remember it now like where I was when' they' shot Kennedy.  I was a bookie's runner at the time to help pay for my season ticket.  A man gibbering unintelligibly came into the pub.  I smacked him around the face like a little Jimmy Cagney to make him talk sense.  He spat out that Bally had been sold to Arsenal.  The cigarette fell out of my mouth and the bottle of Mackies fell to the fall shattering like the news that this tortured man brought.  

Confirmation was needed; it came from my trusty Dad.  My hardman guard was let down; I cried "Why, dad Why?  We're the Mersey Millionaires.  We don't need the money and Bally loves it here. Why, then?"  "Gambling debts I heard, son."  "So I'll tell Big Tony to sort them."  "Too late, son he's gone."  

The jewel in the crown of our midfield was sold at a profit but at a terrible loss to the supporters who idolised him.  An unholy Board based on greed, like Judas's pieces of silver, desecrated the Holy Trinity.  Surely a talent like this should have been fought for and whatever problems overcome.  

Sure, we spent some of the money on new players but this was little Alan Ball — a hero and champion to many; he was never re-placed — he just couldn't be.  Put these factors together and Sod's Law happens: the team just drifted along but, as bad as it went, I can't ever remember looking at the last six fixtures to stay up.  

People will talk for years about how this calamity happened for a team so full of promise only to fall by the wayside so suddenly.  It may be easier to find out the explanation of why the dinosaurs vanished so quickly.

Yours thankfully 

Ian Macdonald Independent Blues