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July 18, 2008 Est 1999 Scotland's award-winning independent newspaper
MUNICH: THE DEATH OF A TEAM
By Archie MacPherson

IT WAS a slaughter of the innocents. The biblical analogy stubbornly persists even now, as you think of those eight young men called Busby Babes losing their lives at the end of a slushy runway in Munich on February 6, 1958. Other more mature men, fathers, grandfathers, hardened journalists, and experienced travellers had their lives snuffed out as well, as Flight 609 bound for Manchester failed to take off and slammed into a house, killing 23 people on board.

DATA FILE

Click to play film in pop-up window

* Video: Charlton Remembers

* Manchester United Tribute

* Wikipedia: Munich Disaster
Yet disasters etch particular images on the memory, and the sense of a cradle of flowering talent being inexplicably destroyed superimposes itself on any other emotion to this day. As the news spread we became shrouded in that deep sense of incomprehension, pain and anger which we were to experience over and over again in the five decades since, in the wake of the assassination of John Kennedy, the killing of John Lennon, the slaying of Martin Luther King and the destruction of the Twin Towers. Such experiences fail to inure you though. Each one is a fresh trauma, for which you can never be prepared, even in an era in which terrorist atrocities are almost expected. It was United's tragedy though which first seemed to evoke that aura of spontaneous national mourning which greatly transcended the official two minute silences held throughout the land afterwards. For in their youthful exuberance, their success, the part they had played in proving that an audacious youth development scheme was indeed the blueprint for the future for succeeding generations, they had seemed Olympian and invulnerable.

Like no other major domestic catastrophe that had gone before, this event seemed to drum out a message of the fragility of life, that nature could bestow magical gifts with the one hand and take them away so cavalierly with the other. For there had been major incidents in the weeks before Munich.

Two months previously an aircraft had come down on the Isle of Wight on November 15, 1957, killing 40 passengers. Even worse, there had been a major rail accident at Lewisham on 4 December, 1957, the statistics for which still stagger 90 killed and 173 seriously injured. Callous though it might now sound, these were distant statistical horrors to many of us.

But United were part of our known culture, working-class lads who had made good in the people's game. They were family in that sense, just kids. The average age of the side who won the title in 1955/56 was 22; the youngest to achieve that. They were all of the highest quality but some showed a potential to become icons. I saw Duncan Edwards play once, striding through the game like a young giant, squarely built, but with a delicacy of touch and a simple self-belief, suggesting he could become the greatest of them all. Then I flinched watching a 20-year-old Bobby Charlton, on his debut for England at Hampden in 1958, scoring with a ferocious volley at the Mount Florida end, which seemed in itself the harbinger of greatness, in their 4-0 thrashing of Scotland.

In the last league game before their ill-fated journey, Arsenal had scored four goals against them. But they had scored five themselves. They clung to a simple credo. Score more than your opponents. Their statement of the obvious was to attack, and then attack. Even bitter opponents admired their youthful swank. They were beginning to seem unstoppable.

That evening, as the news of the accident became clearer, we picked through the details of the acknowledged mortalities and the rumours of survivors as if we were looking for a relative who might have been on the passenger inventory. Who had survived and who hadn't? United had chartered an aircraft to take them to, and then return from, a drawn 3-3 game against Red Star Belgrade, which saw them through 5-4 on aggregate. They stopped at Munich to refuel. The weather was foul. Snow had fallen. Captain James Thain attempted twice to take off and on the first run had his fingers bruised by co-pilot Ken Rayment reaching to slam on the brakes as acceleration was not sufficient.

After a short break in the terminal for the passengers, they tried for a third time. The same procedures were followed and the aircraft gathered speed.

Here are the last recorded words of Rayment as they approached the end of the runway. "Christ, we won't make it!" They look absurdly mundane in print until you put it into the context of men who knew exactly what that meant.

The plane crashed into a fence, then slewing crazily around, slammed into an unoccupied house, the fusillage, wings and engine parting company in a succession of impacts. Thain survived. Rayment did not, and was the last of the fatalities, dying of brain injuries in a German hospital three weeks later.

My father, who had played football with Matt Busby in the army team organised by the great man when he was billeted in Edinburgh, sat up through the night after hearing the news, sipping cups of tea, waiting to hear about "Poor Matt". We heard he was still living, but barely. They were to read the last rites twice to the manager, but the Bellshill man miraculously pulled through after two months in hospital. Bobby Charlton and Dennis Violet survived. They had swapped seats just before take-off with Tommy Taylor and David Pegg. Taylor and Pegg died instantly. So did Geoff Bent, Roger Byrne, Eddie Coleman, Mark Jones and Liam Whelan. Duncan Edwards, brutally injured, defied death for 15 days then succumbed in hospital. In our minds we seemed to fight that battle with him, but we all lost.

Amongst the eight journalists who died inside the aircraft was Frank Swift, former Manchester City and England goalkeeper who had the biggest pair of hands in the history of the English game. But, even though this popular giant had been cruelly felled, the media tended to focus, perhaps understandably, on what they had to assume was the ending of a noble dream, and who, on that night, was to blame, if anybody.

The Germans rushed out a report holding pilot Thain responsible, for having overlooked the gathering of ice on the wings. It took him 10 years to clear his name and for an official British inquiry to conclude on June 10, 1969, "...our considered view is that the cause of the accident was slush on the runway". It was that, not ice on the wings, which caused a fatal deceleration of the engines. It is a verdict the German authorities have never accepted.

But what was beyond dispute is that the British public did grow tired of the technicalities of blame and began to marvel at the resilience of this club, which although they were to win only one league game thereafter that season, did reach the final of the FA Cup, only to be beaten 2-0 by Bolton Wanderers. The rebirth of United, and the winning of the European Cup 10 years later, was a triumph of the human spirit. Nothing could compensate, though, for the catastrophe in Munich. One possible future was snuffed out.

Its replacement has been glorious but never extinguishes the thought of how much greater it might have been.

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Posted by: Paco el Hombre, Sevilla on 1:53am Sun 3 Feb 08
Mr MacPherson,

So what's new? This 'story' is almost 50 years old!

The article itself reveals that your writing is almost as bad as your commentating.
Posted by: Brian Phee, Sydney on 3:35am Sun 3 Feb 08
Of course it is not news! Its a poignant reflection on what was a very sad occurance that touched many people. I think its a well written, very humane piece, putting the event into context. Thanks Archie. Your article is a nice counterbalance to the sort of self-indulgent thoughtlesness above.
Posted by: raymond harris, london on 10:32am Sun 3 Feb 08
A well written piece Archie so ignore the moron from spain mate.
Posted by: Ken Marshall, Lower Greenwich Canada on 10:37am Sun 3 Feb 08
This accident did have one good result. The aviation industry, after FAR TOO LONG figured out that slush was dangerous and kills. Do not get me started on the German "investigations".
Posted by: Jack Keane, Renfrewshire, Scotland on 11:39am Sun 3 Feb 08
Whilst admitting to irritation at the misspelling of Dennis Viollet and Eddie Colman in Archie MacPherson's piece, I thought the article was a restrained, dignified reflection from a man who, like myself, was alive at the time of the accident and has distanced himself from the sentimentality which has accompanied much of the comment from so-called 'life-long Manchester United supporters' on the incident. When you are nine years old and you lose your 'heroes', particular memories remain with you for the rest of your life. MacPherson's article captured that sentiment while his references to other appalling loss of life in other accidents offered insight into how maturity helps to see events in a philosophical, rather than an emotional light.
Posted by: Paco el Hombre, Sevilla on 12:06am Mon 4 Feb 08
# 2 and 3.

Unlike you two, I have actually had the good fortune to have watched and admired the mighty 'Busby Babes'- in Glasgow in 1956 against Celtic in a charity match for the Leonard Cheshire Fund - so don't lecture me about "...a very sad occurance (sic) that touched many people..." and "...moron...".

Incidentally, does your failure to make any mention of my criticism of his commentating ability indicate that you share my opinion, or are you in the minority?
Posted by: David Ross, Glasgow on 10:00am Mon 4 Feb 08
Paco el Hombre, if you were indeed old enough to have watched the Busby Babes live, you should be ashamed to display all the intelligence and respect of a dim-witted teenager. I doubt very much that you are indeed that age as surely no grown man would entirely miss the point of a poignant article and then lower the debate to the merits of Archie’s commentating. Archie McPherson has forgotten more about football than you’ll ever know, I would guess.
It’s a pity this personal yet engaging piece has been tainted by your pathetic and petty comments. You should be proud.
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