"Thy Doom is Nigh Plymouth". In the Barn Park /
Mayflower corner, Spurs fans amuse the capacity 40,000 crowd.
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Sunday Independent:
Who forged
the score? What appears a 1-5 thrashing is almost as big a fake as those dozen
or so tickets that caused havoc during the week.
Let there
be no complaints, for the double champions from White Hart Lane thoroughly
deserved to win. They showed all the skills of the game that were good enough
to take them to the final for the second year in succession without undue
trouble. Plucky Argyle just did not deserve to be the side they stepped over
en route.
The half
time score - 0-3 - was a completely false reflection. Argyle played well
enough to beat most sides in this first period and actually outplayed their
vaunted opponents in overall football.
They took
Spurs, as planned, as just another eleven men and produced style and slickness
that must have shaken them.
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Jimmy
Greaves is foiled as Dave Maclaren grabs the ball, watch by George
Robertson. |
But the
Londoners had the edge in finish and speed and inevitably with a high priced
First Division side, the edge in basic skills. These factors gave them their
three goal lead.
No one can
begrudge the Spurs their success. It was quietly accepted by the 40,000 crowd
- yet that is just about all that can be said against Argyle.
Even if it
was needed, one could not say that a single home player had a bad day. From
the goal to the wings no one let the side down.
But what
can you do against a team in which every man is a master of his trade? Their
own followers were disappointed in their general form, but Plymouth fans
stared in amazement as these artists chipped, slipped and tipped their way
through the dragging mud.
A
misplaced pass is an event with this team; every man makes the ball his own
and he can take and send it on its way in a flash.
This is
what beat Argyle. Spurs looked yards faster into the open spaces and their
movements had a non-stop sweetness that even dogged Argyle could not turn
sour.
Only once
did Argyle match them. Mid-way through the first half Johnny Newman, George
Kirby and Jimmy McAnearney indulged in as clever a piece of interpassing as
even the Spurs will show. They swept through with a series of flicks and back
heels which took the inside left within an ace of scoring.
There were
other star moments too. Newman frequently cruised through the vacant middle in
complete command; Ken Maloy had a rare battle with Peter Baker; Bryce Fulton
earned tumultuous applause for his tussle with Cliff Jones when the Welshman
switched, and Johnny Williams nearly raised the roof with his first half
shooting.
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Bill
Brown leaps above Wilf Carter, covered by Danny Blanchflower,
Ron Henry,
Peter Baker and Maurice Norman. |
Through
all this the mighty Spurs purred on. Maclaren made three grand saves from John
White, Jimmy Greaves and Cliff Jones and the outside left outjumped them all
to head against the upright.
These
chances all came from swift incisive moves which left the attackers concerned
almost in the clear; moves which cracked even the best laid plans of a gallant
defence.
That is no
criticism, for the best defences in the country and Europe have gone under to
this outfit.
For an
instant in the 24th minute we thought the Spurs might be human after all for
goal merchant Terry Medwin sliced a gilt edged chance over a gaping goal.
That
impression lasted for just 60 seconds. Spurs swept back again. Les Allen gave
Gordon Fincham the old one-two out on the left and slipped the ball in for his
outside right to make amends.
One minute
Spurs were developing a move on the right when from out of the blue, Jones
hooked a centre across and the mercurial Jimmy Greaves skied in a header which
left Dave Maclaren standing.
Even then
Argyle might have made a shaking comeback for Baker just baulked McAnearney
and Wilf Carter's flick was only inches outside the post.
Just on
time, however, the brilliant Danny Blanchflower pulled the simplest but
neatest trick in the game by feinting to centre before sending Les Allen
through. The centre forward's cross was rocketed in by Jones.
I reckon
everyone on the ground knew that was it. Well as Argyle had played, they were
three goals down and even their most ardent fan could not back them to pull
that back.
In the
70th minute, Jimmy Greaves showed his six figure value by juggling and jinking
his way through a packed defence. He showed two men the ball, took it away and
then foxed Maclaren with a clever slice from close range.
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Jimmy
McAnearney beats Dave Mackay, with Peter Anderson in support. |
There might have been more goals, but these were not the main concern
- Spurs
were home and that was what mattered.
Despite that, a disappointed but not dismayed crowd showed their approval of
Argyle’s performance with a rousing cheer when Peter Anderson at last got the
ball into the net. Newman drove Bill Brown to a full length save; McAnearney
hit the post and the winger finished it off.
Five
minutes from time White, the subtle stylist Argyle most feared, cracked in a
fifth which went in off two defenders.
Argyle put
everything into the game and produced a fair brand of football but, as many
teams will find, it was nowhere near good enough against the Spurs.
They had
their stars - but there is only one Danny Blanchflower, one Dave Mackay, one
Jimmy Greaves, one John White and few copies around of the other members of a
great side.
Argyle
- Maclaren; Robertson, Fulton, Williams, Fincham, Newman, Anderson, Carter,
Kirby, McAnearney, Maloy.
Spurs -
Brown; Baker, Henry, Blanchflower, Norman, Mackay, Medwin, White, Allen,
Greaves, Jones.
Scorers: Argyle - Anderson; Spurs - Greaves (2), Medwin, Jones, White.
Referee: Mr. R E. Smith (Newport).
Attendance: 40,040
• Tottenham went on to win the Cup for the second year in a row, beating
Burnley 3-1 in the final.
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