Fergie Rises

by Michael Grant

  Still, after fifteen minutes of the cup final, John Greig might have thought his judgment had been vindicated. Cooper began brightly and was involved in the build-up as John MacDonald got space behind McLeish and McMaster and glanced a deft header past Jim Leighton. Rangers had the opening goal. Was it going to happen again? This, though, was a different Aberdeen. They harried and chased Rangers, aggressively going for the ball when Greig’s defenders tried to build moves from the back. They were behind for only seventeen minutes before equalising with a memorable Hampden goal. When Simpson’s shot was charged down, the ball rolled just out of the penalty box to McLeish. The ball actually stopped dead on the grass just before he hit it, as if it had been placed for a free-kick, and McLeish curled a shot inside the far top corner. Three days earlier in a training session he had scored with an identical shot.

  At half-time the manager delivered one of his greatest performances. One by one he looked his players in the eye as he scanned the dressing room. ‘Do you really want to win this cup? You’re not here just to make up the numbers. Can you do it in cup finals? That’s the question. You’ve won the league, you’ve done well in European games, but can you win cup finals?’ They were the words of a man who had been dropped from the 1965 cup final by Dunfermline despite being their top scorer, a man who had been made a scapegoat when Rangers were thrashed by Celtic in 1969, a manager who had already lost cup finals with Aberdeen in 1979 and 1980. ‘Three cup final appearances–all lost–may be all right for some people but it doesn’t satisfy me. You only remember winners, not runners-up. I want Aberdeen to be winning: league, cups, competitions of any kind. We must be winners.’

  In the second half Aberdeen were far stronger. They made chances and missed them. There were no further goals, but Rangers looked out on their feet by full-time while Aberdeen had plenty more in the tank. Ferguson had put Bell on for McMaster after fifty-eight minutes, playing him on the left of midfield and switching Strachan to the right. The changes clicked and Bell ran Rangers ragged. McLeish said: ‘This was a new breed of Aberdeen players. There was mental strength. Fergie gathered us round at full-time and said stuff along the lines of “We’ll no’ bottle this one”. He said, “Look. Look at them. They’re all lying down getting rubs, they’re knackered.” We were clenching our fists.’

  Three minutes into extra-time Strachan lofted a ball over the Rangers defence and McGhee powered in to bury a downward header at the near post. At last Aberdeen were winning in a cup final. Ten minutes later, McGhee reached the by-line and threaded the ball into the empty goalmouth for Strachan. The Sunday Post said: ‘Strachan had so much time he could have taken the bladder out of the ball before putting it over the line.’ And that was not the end of it. When Neale Cooper burst through on Jim Stewart he got a lucky break. The Rangers goalkeeper’s attempted clearance cannoned into his chest and broke back towards the open goal. A disbelieving Cooper thrashed it in and performed an impromptu celebration. ‘All I could see were thousands of Rangers fans behind the goal. So I scored and did a forward roll. I still don’t know where the idea for that came from. I don’t know why I did it, but it was funny.’

  STV commentator Jock Brown summed it up: ‘Suddenly it’s a rout.’ The significance of the win was impossible to miss. At 4–1 Aberdeen had not just beaten one of the Old Firm in a cup final, they had embarrassed them. Two years had passed since they had won the league, but Ferguson now had his crucial second trophy. RANGERS BOW TO THE NORTH, said the Glasgow Herald. In the Daily Record chief football writer Alex Cameron wrote that Aberdeen had ‘annihilated’ Rangers. ‘Extra-time was like a wake for Rangers fans. They had gone ominously quiet, as if they knew what was coming.’ John Greig praised those supporters for their loyalty but in truth many left long before the end. They recognised Aberdeen’s supremacy, albeit reluctantly, but plenty had no desire to linger as witnesses to it. Greig was magnanimous: ‘[For] the previous two years we have been winners at Hampden in Scottish Cup finals and I’d like to think we can behave in defeat as we did in victory. I don’t want to take any credit from Aberdeen: they are a very good side and were worthy winners.’

  Winning a cup final in Glasgow was a hurdle Aberdeen had to clear. The way they did it was enormously significant. Hammering Rangers at Hampden was extraordinary. It meant the league title in 1980 could not be written off as some sort of freakish one-off; it had now been followed with the first cup win of the Ferguson era. McLeish believed: ‘That was the game. I know winning the league was something to behold after twenty-five years, but I think some people still looked on it as a flash-in-the-pan. Folk might have said, “They went twenty-five years without the league and now it’s gonna be another twenty-five”. Winning that Scottish Cup so soon after the championship really gave us confidence.’

  Ferguson was breeding a new unit of winners. Six of the players used at Hampden had never been in a cup final before. Jim Leighton was twenty-three, Dougie Bell twenty-two, Neil Simpson twenty, John Hewitt nineteen, Neale Cooper and Eric Black both eighteen. Ferguson had built exactly what he wanted: a side who were getting used to lifting trophies and with young players whose style and character he could shape and dictate. When he went downstairs to speak to the press he was jubilant. ‘The average age of the side is only twenty-three. Who is to say what they can achieve?’ For Simpson, Cooper, Hewitt and Black it was their first trophy. They had shown that they, too, could handle Glasgow. ‘To go to Hampden and dominate an Old Firm team gives you reason to believe you have a decent team,’ Ferguson said later. ‘The players sprouted wings then.’

  In the two seasons since winning the league Ferguson had challenged all his players, the young ones and the seniors, telling them to their faces that they might be ‘a one-trophy team’. McMaster said: ‘He was always challenging us. He was always saying, “Are youse happy with this, are youse in a wee comfort zone? Do you want to be watching Coronation Street on a Wednesday night instead of playing European football?”’ None of them realised what was about to unfold at Aberdeen. They were heading into a campaign that would leave no time for Ena Sharples, Ken Barlow and Bet Lynch in the Rovers Return. They were about to launch a massive assault on Europe.

  Chapter 13

  ‘WHERE’S HUNGARY FROM ALBANIA?’ THAT’S NOT AN EASY QUESTION WITH TWENTY MINUTES TO GO

  The European Cup Winners’ Cup is slowly being forgotten. The middle brother of Uefa’s three club tournaments–lacking the prestige of the European Cup but enjoying greater status than the Uefa Cup–it was discontinued in 1999 and its significance has eroded steadily ever since. Yet when Barcelona reached the 1982 final 100,000 Catalans packed in to the Nou Camp to cheer a 2–1 win over Standard Liege. And the following season the tournament featured a number of European football’s most famous clubs: Spain was represented by both Barcelona (as holders) and Real Madrid (as Spanish Cup winners); Italy sent Inter Milan, Germany Bayern Munich; the English representatives were Tottenham, and Paris Saint-Germain were there for France.

  Aberdeen had played in the European Cup Winners’ Cup four times without making an impression, though the same could be said of their past attempts in all of the European competitions. In their first European game in 1967 they had scored ten unanswered goals past KR Reykjavik at Pittodrie, but the adventure still ended in the next round. In the 1970s there were glamorous ties against Juventus, Borussia Mönchengladbach and Spurs. They lost them all. In eleven previous European campaigns they had never beaten more than two opponents and never survived beyond Christmas. When Uefa introduced penalty shoot-outs to settle drawn ties, Aberdeen became the first team to lose one, against Honvéd. Of their domestic rivals, Celtic had won the European Cup in 1967 and reached the final three years later. Rangers had lifted the Cup Winners’ Cup in 1972. Hibs and Dundee had both reached European Cup semi-finals in the 1950s and 1960s respectively. Aberdeen, however, had no comparable European pedigree; beating Ipswich and running Hamburg close in 1981 was by far the best they had done.

  A
berdeen were forced to take the scenic route at the start of the European Cup Winners’ Cup in 1982–83. They were drawn to enter in a preliminary round and had to win that to reach the competition proper. They were paired with the unknown Swiss club Sion. Alex Ferguson was irritated that the fixture cut short the players’ summer holidays: they were playing European football almost a month before the competition’s first round. He entered his fifth season at Aberdeen without signing any reinforcements; he did not think he needed them. Sion turned up at Pittodrie and were torn apart, losing 7–0 to six different goalscorers. When Sion won the Swiss Cup they had taken 20,000 supporters to the final in Berne. Only 2,400 had the stomach for the second leg against Aberdeen, a comfortable 4–1 win for Ferguson’s men. ‘I don’t think we have ever seen a better team at our ground,’ said Sion manager Leon Walker.

  Ferguson was a meticulous compiler of information on opponents. He watched Sion once himself and sent Archie Knox to see them before the first leg. He hated being surprised by opponents. Consequently Aberdeen’s next opponents, Dinamo Tirana, made him nervous. Albania was a closed shop, a Stalinist dictatorship under Enver Hoxha, and Ferguson and his backroom staff were denied entry visas to watch Dinamo in advance. ‘I must be honest and admit that I don’t think we have played against a team during my time at Pittodrie when we knew so little about them,’ he said. ‘The unknown is always a problem. It leaves a funny and peculiar feeling that there may be something we don’t know about that will surprise us.’ Information was so scarce ahead of the first leg at Pittodrie that there was a blank space in the programme where the Dinamo Tirana squad should have been listed. There was little to soothe Ferguson or his team as they ended the game with a narrow 1–0 lead. Dinamo dug in, defended in depth and wasted time whenever they could. Ferguson looked across to the away dug-out and saw all the Tirana coaches staring back and chanting ‘Albania, Albania’. It had the ring of a threat.

  The return game became a test of Aberdeen’s nerve and strength of character. The Albanian state remained resolutely difficult to deal with. Aberdeen’s secretary, Ian Taggart, was among those refused an entry visa. Only twenty-two were granted to the club. Stuart Kennedy remembered the trip as a prolonged endurance test: ‘They’re putting alarms off at one in the morning, they’re giving you crap food, the bus is late for training. They’re not helping you.’ There were even rumours that there would be a coup while Aberdeen were in the country, though those proved unfounded. Almost 20,000 packed into Dinamo’s ground in the stifling, humid heat of Tirana. The locals felt the first-leg deficit could easily be turned over. Shortly before kick-off Kennedy turned to Ferguson and asked him where the referee came from. ‘I was always into referees because I used to think “wars”. Who has his country been at war with? I’m thinking, “This guy will give us a good deal here, everyone likes us, British, Scottish, we’ll get a couple of decisions, especially when we’re against a German team.” I’d think stuff like that before a game. In Tirana the boss says, “He comes from Hungary.” And I’m thinking, “Hungary…Hungary…I can’t think of a war with them.” I says, “Dougie, Alex, Willie, Simmy, watch your tackling because this referee will give a penalty from anywhere within ten yards of the box, then he’ll just get into his car and drive back to Hungary.” Simmy says to me, “Where’s Hungary from Albania, Stuarty?” Now that’s not an easy question with twenty minutes to go…Then big Alex turns to me and says, “What about watching your own tackling?” I tell him, “I don’t give fouls away, I’ve not given a foul away this season.” That got their attention! “All season?” “Yep. Think about it as long as you like. I don’t foul people, they foul me. I don’t need to foul people like youse do.”’

  It was typical Kennedy patter, and Ferguson loved it. His comic boastfulness emboldened and cheered the other players. If you believed him, he had never committed a foul in his entire career and no winger had got the best of him. ‘I’d tell them, “This guy won’t last ninety minutes. It’ll be the usual, he’ll last sixty minutes. Has anyone lasted a whole game against me?” I’d say to the boys, “Spend your bonus now. The game hinges on me against this winger? Phone home, tell your wife to spend the money, this guy’ll no’ last ninety minutes.” The young boys would be thinking to themselves, “This is great”. Fergie’s winking at me. Mind you, I’ve put myself on the chopping block by saying all this stuff. I still have to go out and handle this winger.’ Tirana’s winger was handled. In the end the most comfortable aspect of the trip was the game itself. Aberdeen were composed and in control as they saw out the goalless draw that eased them through.

  The second round also sent them behind the Iron Curtain, this time to face Lech Poznań in Poland. Again they had a narrow first-leg lead from Pittodrie, after a game they had dominated but which only produced second-half goals from Mark McGhee and Peter Weir. Eric Black had hit the woodwork twice and Gordon Strachan once. Poznań were not dead yet. Almost 30,000 Poles clearly thought the same as they turned up intent on intimidating the Scottish visitors. What they witnessed on 3 November 1982 was an Aberdeen team who were becoming increasingly sure of themselves in Europe. It was the Dons’ twenty-second game in Uefa tournaments under Ferguson and they had lost only one of the last eleven. Again they were calm and authoritative. When Dougie Bell scored in the second half it sealed the 3–0 aggregate win that took them into the quarter-finals. Dundee United had also survived in the Uefa Cup, but Rangers had been knocked out of that competition after a 5–0 defeat by Cologne and Celtic had gone out of the European Cup against Real Sociedad. ‘Once again the wise men from the East–Aberdeen and Dundee United–are left with the responsibility of keeping Scottish interest alive in Europe,’ wrote Jim Reynolds in the Glasgow Herald. The coverage was very matter-of-fact. No one speculated in print that they could go much further in their tournaments.

  European football had more time to breathe back in 1983. Four months passed before the Cup Winners’ Cup resumed. The draw for the last eight took place on 10 December and nearly all the heavyweights had survived. Ferguson took a deep breath. ‘We shall be in an exalted group of world renowned sides who have more European trophies between them than we’ve got tea cups in the guest room.’ Aberdeen drew Bayern Munich. This time there was no sense of the unknown. Bayern were footballing aristocracy. Only seven months earlier they had reached another European Cup final, their fourth, before losing narrowly to Aston Villa. Crucially, no foreign side had beaten them at home in Europe. In a team of international-class players there were three truly outstanding talents: Karl-Heinz Rummenigge was the 1980 and 1981 European Footballer of the Year, an explosive striker with pace, strength and intelligence; the dynamic midfielder Paul Breitner had won a World Cup, European Championship, European Cup and seven league titles with Bayern and Real Madrid; and by the time Klaus Augenthaler’s career was over the classy sweeper had won the World Cup and seven Bundesliga championships. With the luxury of ample preparation time, Ferguson’s dossier on Bayern was thorough. He told the press he would settle for a 2–0 defeat in Munich, reckoning that could be recoverable at Pittodrie. Privately he fancied his team to do far better than that.

  Rummenigge was the one player who made him anxious. It was not Ferguson’s style to focus on an individual, but he repeatedly sidled up to Willie Miller in training and told him to stay on his feet against the outstanding West German. ‘Don’t dive in. Don’t commit.’ Neale Cooper was instructed to mark Breitner. Simpson and Bell had to close down and harass Bayern. The defensive unit of Miller, Alex McLeish, Stuart Kennedy, Doug Rougvie and goalkeeper Jim Leighton were up against the best side Aberdeen had faced since Liverpool in 1980. There was no room for passengers; everyone would have to deliver one of the performances of their career. But the key duel would be Rummenigge versus Miller. Franz Beckenbauer’s experience with Hamburg made him an obvious person for the media to ask about the Dons’ prospects. He was in no doubt that Bayern would win comfortably in Munich: ‘As soon as the Scots set foot from their own cou
ntry they are worth only half as much.’ Even the Bielefeld team, recently beaten 5–0 by Bayern, were ‘technically superior to Aberdeen’.

  The Olympic Stadium’s spidery, Bedouin tent of a roof undulated over a vast bowl of 74,000 seats and gave Bayern the most iconic stadium in Europe. Ferguson liked it. A running track circled the pitch which meant the stands were far back from the touchlines. It felt open and airy, and that meant Aberdeen would be able to play with calm heads rather than with a noisy German crowd breathing down their necks. As it turned out, only around 35,000 Bayern fans turned up on 2 March. The 2,000 who travelled from Aberdeen made a loud presence of their own. Commuters on Munich’s U-Bahn had been bemused to hear ‘The Northern Lights of Old Aberdeen’ belted out on the way to the stadium.

  On the eve of the game Aberdeen had put on a harumscarum training session on the Munich pitch. Usually Archie Knox led the sessions, but at the last minute Ferguson stepped in and said he would take over. ‘Archie’s nose was out of joint straight away,’ recalled McGhee, laughing. ‘He went in a huff. He stood at the side, looking at the stand, not even looking at the pitch, petted lip, pissed off!’ The players were instructed to use one half of the pitch with a group in each of the four corners and another group in the middle. They were told to fire long balls back and forth from the corners to the middle, and to swap positions. It was chaos. McGhee went on: ‘There was a hollow round the edge of the trackside and within ten minutes we’re running out of balls because they’re all going in there. Five people have been hit; I get smacked with a ball on the side of the heid. It was an absolute shambles. It was supposed to be a passing exercise and folk are going off with bloody noses and black eyes! To be honest it was hilarious.’