Down we go again. A few more Soccer jolts like the 3-0 defeat hammered into England's Imps by Italy's under-23s here today, and we shall be really rocked into revolution.
The plain truth is that our youngsters showed the same vital failings as their seniors. They ere beaten for speed, accuracy and effective use of the ball. In its way, this was a bigger blow than the Hungarian staggerer at Wembley. When every allowance has been made for travel-weariness and lack of practise together, it is fairly conclusive proof that we are outdated, even in our methods of bringing up the boys.
Said team manager Walter Winterbottom afterwards: "All these lads look good and fast in their club sides, yet today they were beaten to the ball and never looked like pulling a winning stroke."
It is obvious that our game as a whole is stuck in a groove.
Matt Busby, manager of Manchester United and the best producer of young players in the business, commented: "It was very disappointing. The Italians played a much more mature brand of football."
Our fellows were struggling from the time Virgili, the much-muscled and idolised 18 year-old, scored with a tame push into an empty net, after 11 minutes.
It was so blatantly off-side it was laughable. And Bill Dodgin and goalkeeper Ray Wood were flabbergasted at the decision. Still there was nothing wrong with the second-half goals from Privatelli and, in the last second, Savioni. What is more, those goals always looked like coming, whereas our actual scoring chances were rarer than rain in the Sahara.
There is little point in blaming the individual English players. There was no slacking.
Dodgin stood up well to the sly shirt-pulls and the deliberate body-checking, which no Italian team seems to be able to eliminate completely, and he cut Virgili's activities down to a minimum. But the slick manner in which the other Italian forwards switched positions often found Gunter and Ellis out of touch. Edwards, 17-year-old 'babe' of the side, seemed overawed in the first half, but came back full of fight after the break. The locals fell hook line and sinker for the clever footwork of Peter Broadbent, but his smart individual efforts seldom menaced the goal, because his colleagues did not run to the appropriate spaces for his passes. Stuart Leary played a curiously unenterprising game, sticking upfield close to the opposing centre-half, in complete contrast to his roving Charlton style.
Johnny Nicholls, one of the smartest goal snappers in League football, was like a fish out of water away from clubmate Ronnie Allen, who was ineligible for selection in this team.
This cut down Frank Blunstone's efficiency on the wing. Was our journey really necessary? I'll say it was, if only further to emphasise our shortcomings, and get those responsible to make the very necessary changes.