Reading between the lines on the selectors' foreheads after the game at Sheffield last night, there are still a number of situations vacant for the England team to play Scotland on April 2.
Not at centre-forward, and not at left-back. Roy Swinbourne, of Wolves, and Jim Langley, of Brighton, must go in. But they were the only two men of true international quality in the "B" team that collapsed into chaos. It was a difficult occasion for individuals to shine, for this "B" team played in C Minor. As a side they were barely acquaintances. Swinbourne won his first cap for sure in a magnificently unlucky first half, when he scored one and might have scored five. Langley did enough in the second half to overcome the most powerful prejudices against throwing a Third Division player into the fiery furnace of Wembley.
The crowd made him man of the match—a bootlace in front of Germany's left-back, Juskowiak, who almost hypnotised some of the England forward line to do his will. The crowd were right. Germany saved the game in the 51st minute, after a penalty decision by Referee Jack Clough that seemed more of a gesture towards goodwill than a strict interpretation of Soccer law. Trevor Smith, unhappy against the Continental dodge of the decoy centre-forward, appeared to have played the ball properly for a corner before Schlump fell over his legs. But a penalty it was, and Juskowiak came up from full-back to prove that the Germans really can shoot, and scored. Thereafter, the Germans, by smoother and more studied use of the ball tied the English defence into all the Boy Scouts' knots, and one of two new ones. But there was always Langley—strong, bold, resolute and brainy, to boot—to interrupt these pleasant German exchanges and set that creaky attacking machine of England turning over again.
For most of the game that attack read, from left to right—Swinbourne, Swinbourne, Swinbourne, Swinbourne and Swinbourne. Except when Langley himself came up to do some forward work as well. Of England's 14 scoring attempts, I counted a dozen from the head and feet of Swinbourne. While others dallied and dithered, he shot hard and straight and often.