SPECTATOR SPORT
Settling scores
FranlaCeating
THE MODERN penalty shoot-out may be a deplorably unfair way to settle a soccer Cup tie, but there can be no doubt that this ersatz, made-for-television, sudden-death solution makes for an irresistibly gripping curtain call. Witness the other night when the unbiased were wrenchingly torn between laughter and tears as Aston Villa's young Australian goalkeeper Bosnich flung himself all over the shop to deny the mighty Tranmere — comparative minnows — a deserved place in the League Cup final at Wembley.
Didn't someone make a film once called The Goalkeeper's Fear of the Penalty? It was an obtuse over-arty picture, but a good title — although less true now that the shoot- out provides penalties by the sackload. Next year, it so happens, we celebrate the centenary of the penalty. Although the con- cept of the free shot for foul play near the goal was introduced in 1891, it was four years later that the Football Association made the distance 12 yards and ordered goalkeepers not to move from the goal-line till the ball had been kicked.
It was a surprise to hear the cocksure lar- rikin of the goal-mouth, Bosnich, say the other night how his hero was Lev Yashin, the superlative Russian who was doing his stuff — wearing all black invariably between the sticks in the 1960s before Villa's boy was even born. He would have doubtless heard of him from his father back in Oz. During the 1970 World Cup in Mexi- co, when he was a coach to the Russian team, I played a game of chess with the delightful Yashin. He said his most feared English opponent had been Derek Kevan of West Brom. 'Ooof, strong kick,' and he wrung his hands at the memory.
The most dramatic penalty save that comes to my mind was during another League Cup semi-final. Can it really be 22 years ago? It was a filthy night at Upton Park, and with only a couple of minutes to go West Ham were surely through when they were awarded a penalty. England's centre-forward Hurst, with the kick of a mule, was to take it against his England col- league in the polo-neck, Banks. Hurst ran up long and really let fly with a hell of a whack, head-high to Banks's right. The goalkeeper flung his body and right fist at the blur and punched it on to the crossbar and away into the crowd. Another highly dramatic penalty save was — incredibly — the first ever to be saved (or missed) in an FA Cup Final at Wemb- ley, all of 65 years since they began playing finals there. In 1988, Liverpool's grandeur at its zenith, the upstarts from Wimbledon came to Wembley to challenge them for the prize. What did John Motson call it — 'the Culture Club v. the Crazy Gang'?
But Wimbledon take the lead before half-time and then continue to hold out any old how. Liverpool get rattled, even ratty till, all's well, they are awarded a penalty. The dead-eyed hoofer Aldridge (who by last week had become Tranmere's luminous veteran) saunters up to the oche and places the ball. No problem — he has scored 11 out of 11 penalties in the season, hasn't he? And, Liverpool being Liverpool, nearly all of them were on television. Which was one reason why Wimbledon's big, lurching, busby-haired goalie, Beasant, had bought himself one of those new-fangled video recorders and the week before had sat up late studying Aldridge's 12-yard art. 'If the goalie stands on his line straight and still, Aldridge always puts it to their left,' Beas- ant confided before the game. And so it came to pass. Liverpool 0, Wimbledon 1 and within weeks Beasant was sold to Newcastle for almost a million pounds. The goalkeeper's love of the penalty.
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