The body leaning forward, the hank of blond hair flopping to one side of an already thinning pate, the white-shirted figure seems to glide – the hips not moving an inch from the horizontal plane – as the acceleration carries him over the pristine turf, arrowing down the pitch’s central axis as he crosses the halfway line, moving the ball forward with brisk touches of his left boot.
It’s 36 minutes into England’s second match of the 1966 World Cup finals. Alf Ramsey’s team have yet to score a goal. A drab performance in the opening match five days earlier has savagely undermined the nation’s expectation of glory. Now, on their return to Wembley, an opponent senses the menace and comes out of defence, moving across and towards the approaching figure.
