Wembley League Cup Final v Liverpool

Millions of fans, all over England, for decades, have been singing the song...

Que sera sera

Whatever will be, will be

We're going to Wem ber ley!

Que Sera Sera!

I must have sung it scores of times myself, already, even though I was only 18 years old and had only been to 257 games. But on this day, forty years ago, Saturday, 18th March 1978, we really, truly were going to Wembley - for the League Cup final against the mighty Liverpool.

It's incredible how events transpire. Just one year earlier (minus one day) Forest lost 2-0 away at Sheffield United (where Forest played tonight and got a decent Karanka-style 0-0 draw) in the second division, a defeat that, we were sure, had put the final nail in the coffin of our promotion hopes. Now, after beating Leicester City 1-0 the previous Tuesday, we were top of the First division (five points clear with two games in hand, no less) and in the final of a major cup competition for the first time since 1959, the year of my birth.

Before taking our place with 30,000 or so Forest fans at the tunnel end of Wembley Stadium though, I have to make a big apology to my dad. He died over twenty years ago, but better late than never, right? I'll also do my usual historical tour of the away ground. This time, of course, it's the strictly neutral Wembley Stadium itself. Then I'll report on Liverpool's amazingly poor record in the League Cup at that time. Yep, in some ways it was even worse than Forest's, and that's saying something.

But first, here's something completely different...

Happy 100th birthday, Dad... and Sorry!

Right. Apology time.

I am appalled, embarrassed, shocked and generally feeling a little nauseous to have to admit that it was only a few minutes ago, as I started to compile this rather selfish blog about my teenage indulgences watching a football team win some football matches forty years ago, that I realised the significance of the date of the match I was about to write about.

The 18th March - is my dad's birthday.

Dad died on 4th January 1998 but his birthday remains, doesn't it? 18th March IS STILL his birthday, even if he is no longer around to celebrate it.

Anyway, needless to say, I completely forgot about this - not only on this day, forty years ago, but even now, today, forty years later - that is, as I say, until a few minutes ago.

It gets worse though.

It wasn't just any old birthday, it was his 60th. Now dad wasn't one for making a big fuss about such occasions, although we did organise a do for him for his 70th, but I am sure he would have been hurt that I was so engrossed with my football team that I completely forgot about his big birthday.

Sorry, Dad!

Thinking back, I can't remember ever buying him a birthday present or even a card. I feel very bad about that. Mum neither. The two of them were just so selfless and so dedicated to us (my sister and I) they never celebrated anything like their birthdays or anniversary and there was no expectation or family culture of buying parents presents. Maybe it's just my poor memory but I certainly don't think I ever did anyway.

Sorry, Mum!

What a contrast with today's world. I am crazy about anniversaries and for years have vowed never to work on my birthday. In Australia we get two days off every year for the Queen's birthday so I'm damned if I'm going to go to work on my own. My kids always kindly buy my wife and I birthday gifts. But my mum and dad's? I can't remember doing anything for them apart from his 70th. What a hypocrite I am!

I feel even worse now.

Anyway, by means of a humble posthumous apology (can apologies be posthumous, or is it just awards or prizes?) I must write a little about my dad here because, forty years on from this Wembley final, it would have been his 100th birthday.

(I won't be offended if any football fans reading this skipped to the section below headed "Wem-ber-ley".)

Life of Dad

Juozas Kuliukas was born in the village of Alizava (see map below, north east part of the country, under the "v" in "Lietuva"), in the only-just free Lithuania on Monday, 18th March 1918. His country had only declared it's independence from the collapsing Czarist Russian Empire thirty days earlier and the whole of Europe, if not the world, was still convulsing as a result of the revolution there.

So, consequently, thirty days ago (here in 2018) Lithuania celebrated the 100th anniversary of that day too. I made a T-Shirt to commemorate it.

Dad was the fifth of six children born to Antanas Kuliukas and Elzbieta Kuliukienė. He had three elder sisters and one younger brother, born two and a half years after him. His eldest brother, Aleksas, had died when he was not even three years old, seven and a half years before dad was born.

Three sisters Apemija, Pauluse and Pranuse.
Dad's parents Elzbieta and Antanas
Dad (on the left) and his younger brother Antanas

It must have been a tough life working on a farm in those days and it was a struggle to even put food on the table and keep healthy. Dad was just ten and a half when his younger brother, Antanas died and then, just four months later, so did his own father, Antanas, leaving him as the "man" of the farm.

A few years later, just five of the family left

Dad wanted to study (and by this I mean school, not university) but his fate had tied him to having to do endless manual work around the farm. At one point, one of his sisters looked set to marry well, which would have liberated him from his chores. But it fell through and so he had to give up any dreams of a more academic life. He told me that he contemplated hanging himself when that news broke.

Dad finally did get his escape from hard farm labour in 1939 but it wasn't what he was hoping for. Still not quite 21 years old, he was conscripted to join the Lithuanian army. This really wasn't very good timing.

Dad joins the army at (almost) 21

As we now know, no matter how bad things had been in dad's formative years, they were about to get much, much worse. In August 1939, just six months after dad had signed up, two horrible greedy bastards, one called Adolf Hitler and the other called Joseph Stalin, decided to carve up the part of the world usually called "Eastern Europe" between them. The geographic center of Europe is actually very close to the Lithuanian capital, Vilnius, so it's actually "Central" Europe that was shared between the two tyrants. Eastern Europe was already controlled by Russia. On 23rd August 1939 Molotov and Ribbentrop did the deal that would assign Poland to Germany, and which would ultimately start the second world war. A month later, the pact was amended. Lithuania had originally also been consigned to Germany too but now, along with the two other Baltic States, a slice of Finland and Romania and parts of Poland, it was to be gobbled up by the Soviet Union.

Ve vill take Litva and you vill take Polska, ok?

Germany invaded Poland and, as we know, the rest is history.

Not so well known is that the day the Nazis entered Paris was the time when the Baltic States were occupied by Stalin. That, kind of understandably, slipped under the radar of the western democracies.

Dad had been in the Independent Lithuanian army just one year when the Soviets contrived an ultimatum to Lithuanian president, Antanas Smetona's government (and those in Riga and Tallinn too). Facing the prospect of being overwhelmingly outnumbered and a massive death toll, the three Baltic states reluctantly ordered their armies to hand over their weapons to the in-coming Russian soldiers in June 1940.

Dad always described those scenes with total sadness. When the Russian soldiers appeared they looked even younger than his lot did, and more like walking skeletons, they were so underfed. He remained convinced to his last breath that Lithuania should have stood firm and fought for their independence, as did Finland, of course, when Stalin tried to invade them later.

Many thousands of "enemies of the people" - that is policemen, businessmen, land owners etc were deported to Siberia just a year later as the Soviets tightened their grip on their ill-gotten gains but, just a few days later, on 22nd June 1941, Hitler decided to suddenly stick the knife in the back of his erstwhile ally and invade Russia.

No-one saw that coming.

Dad often told me his experience of the time it happened. In the days before Hitler attacked, the commissars (political army people) had given endless lectures and political speeches to the soldiers about how great Hitler was and how together the Germans and Russians would soon triumph over capitalism. Suddenly, gossip started to spread that the Germans were attacking on their eastern front and the commissars were totally bewildered and shocked. They didn't know how to respond at first and vehemently denied the stories until the order came through to pull back as the Germans were rapidly approaching.

My father was only one of about 200,000 Lithuanian soldiers who had become, obviously against their will, absorbed into the red army and therefore suddenly reassigned to defend Russia against the invading Nazis. About 90% of them died during the next few years. Many, were obviously killed at the front by the German soldiers but, according to my dad, at least as many again were shot in the back by NKVD officers to stop them escaping and trying to cross to enemy lines. Most of his fellow soldiers hated Stalin much more than Hitler, who they had not experienced. Maybe Hitler was liberating Lithuania, some hoped. Dad had contemplated trying to escape many times but had always chickened out.

So, it was the greatest relief to dad when his unit was surrounded by a German division and he was captured and taken prisoner of war into Germany on 11th November 1943.

Times in the POW camps were extremely harsh and dad had many tales of the prisoners half starving. Somehow, they managed to see the war out there. Luckily he was in a part of Germany that was captured by the Americans - if it had been the Soviets he would have been shot for desertion, no questions asked.

Life in the D.P. camps wasn't too bad compared with what had gone before

Two years after the war ended, dad was still waiting in various displaced persons (DP) camps in Germany. This was probably the time of his life so far, which doesn't say much for what had gone before. He managed to do some business trading items and made a little money and even had a few romantic encounters too. Some of his friends wanted to go back home but dad and most others knew such a trip would prove fatal. He decided it was best if his family (mother and three sisters, remember) were under the impression that he had been killed in the war, as rumors were rife that families were being punished if it was known that their sons or husbands had escaped to, or been captured by, the Germans.

One of dad's favourite tales was how he had made plans to go to Venezuela (of all places) and set up a building firm with a friend. They were waiting to catch the boat, playing cards in true Titanic style, but unlike Jack and Fabrizio they missed it and were left cursing their luck. Dad was so upset he decided to leave his friend behind and catch the very next boat he could get on, and go to whatever the destination was.

Fate decided that place would be Harwich, England.

Dad in England

So on the 17th January, 1947, my father (now almost 29) arrived at the East Anglian port, very depressed. He always told me how ironic it seemed as German POWs, catching the same boat going back the other way, were all singing and happy (they were the side that had lost the war, remember) whilst dad and the other East European refugees all trudged off grimly in silence, walking towards an uncertain future in a land where they knew no-one and spoke not one word of their language and without a single penny (or pfennig) in their pockets.

To cut a long story short, Dad ended up working down the pit in the Nottinghamshire coal mine of Bentinck Colliery in Kirkby-in-Ashfield.

Bentinck

Like all the refugees that came to Britain in those years, dad was grateful that he finally had some peace and an opportunity to work and rebuild some kind of life. He worked very hard and saved his money carefully. (When he first started working in the mines he was in Barnsley with a number of Lithuanian mates and they drank and gambled their money away so he deliberately left them behind to try to find a wife and be a bit more sensible with his life.)

He found other Lithuanian friends in the Kirkby area too, including one, Vytas Kavaliauskas, who had already married a Romanian woman when they'd been in a German DP (displaced persons) camp in Hanover. She (Leni) had a sister. You know what's coming next. This is how my mum and dad met. So, at the age of 38 they got married and a few months later my sister was born.

I came along three years after that - in the year Forest won the cup (see the Swindon blog for more on that bizarre coincidence of events!)

So, after such a traumatic life, things finally seemed to be going right for dad. He owned his own house - having saved furiously for years - had a steady job that paid quite well for what was available at the time and he had two children. He'd even managed to get word home (through coded messages) that he was alive.

My dad's story was just one of many hundreds of thousands of "East" European refugees who arrived in Britain after the war. Some of these stories are beautifully told by Emily Gilbert in her recent book "Rebuilding Post-war Britain".

The story of Baltic refugees beautifully described

Tragically, though, just three years after I'd arrived on the scene, dad was dealt another terrible twist of fate: A horrible accident down Bentinck pit. He was finishing off some work at the coal face when the seam collapsed on him crushing one of his thoracic vertebrae. These were the days before skilled paramedics knew what to do in such cases and, apparently, his work mates lifted him onto same conveyor belt used to carry the coal from the face. They brought him up the lift, where he was taken away from the mine and on to Lodge Moor hospital in Sheffield.

My earliest memory is waiting with my mum and my sister at the platform at the station that used to be somewhere by Pinxton Lane down Church Hill road in Old Kirkby to catch a train to go to Sheffield to visit dad a few weeks later. I remember the fire coming out of the side of the steam engine as it turned the corner approaching the platform. I have other sort-of memories, of big white double decker buses in Sheffield and some vague ones of hugging dad in his bed in hospital. Mum told me that I spoke to him in German at the time as my Oma had come over from Nuremburg to help mum while dad was in hospital and I had started to speak the same language as they did. Dad had made us two lovely cuddly toys as gifts, a little rabbit and a big poodle dog. I remember them really well, even now.

Dad finally returned home from hospital in March 1963, exactly six months after his accident. He was now in a wheelchair and, as a paraplegic, he would never walk again except with the help of calipers.

So, you see, I have no memory at all of my dad walking, and only a very few photos of him doing so with me in the frame.

One of only two photos I have of me with my dad walking

Dad wasn't the happiest chap in the world (bit of an understatement) and was often nasty (even violent) to my mum but I think one has to remember what he went through. He always cared about us.

He was never really interested in football but we did "bond" quite a bit watching Don Revie's (or "Reeve" as dad insisted his name should be pronounced) Leeds United before I started actually going to matches in the early 1970s. Dad always liked Yorkshire as his best mate, Stan Vitkus, always lived in Barnsley and he admired Geoff Boycott so I think that's why he had a soft spot for Leeds.

Stan Vitkus, Dad and Mum

I think dad was pleased when I became a "born-again" Lithuanian around 1982 and for a while we used to go to some Lithuanian community events, such as the church in Nottingham right behind the Trent Bridge cricket ground ran by Father Matulis.

Dad and me outside Židinys on Hound Road behind the Trent Bridge Pavilion

I am proud that I did take dad back to Lithuania after it regained its independence in 1991 and that I recorded a number of interviews with him where he described his amazing life.

This seems to have inspired him to write down his memoirs in a short book that was published by Kardas back in Lithuania in 1996 - "Nebuvo Lemta Zuti" (Lithuanian for "Not Destined to Die".)

Not Destined to Die (in the war, I think he meant)

So for over 35 years dad had to do things with his fingers every day to compensate for lack of neural control below the waist. Nevertheless, he was fastidious in looking after himself and managed to stay relatively healthy until diabetes and other problems gradually caught up with him as he approached 80 years of age. Dad died on 4th January 1998.

My son and I took his ashes back to Alizava (as was his request) few months later. We experienced a very warm and heart felt wake.

So... never forget how lucky we are to live in a time of peace and prosperity and be wary of those who might take it away.

Ok. I'm sorry about all that. I seem to have got a bit carried away. I guess realising that it's his 100th birthday today just made me feel extra guilty.

Anyway, back to the football and my trip to Wembley 40 years ago on dad's 60th birthday.

Wem-ber-ley

This wasn't my first time at Wembley. I'd actually been there at least once (and possibly twice) before, for an England schoolboys international. Unfortunately, I didn't keep the programme or any record and my memory has faded the point that I can't even remember if it was one or two matches, which match(es) it was (or they were) or what year it (or they) was played.

Researching the interweb has revealed these as possible matches that I could have attended...

1970 England 3-0 W Germany.
1971 England 1-0 N Ireland.
1971 England 5-1 Netherlands.
1972 England 4-0 W Germany.

My hunch is that I went to the latter one, England v West Germany, but that might just be wishful thinking. Beating Germany 4-0 at Wembley at any level would have been nice. Northern Ireland rings a bell too. Who knows!?

I do remember us taking our places on the very uncomfortable wooden benches near the front - but still miles from the pitch - and the screeching sound of 80,000 schoolboys (and girls) clapping and chanting.

Clap Clap
Clap Clap Clap
Clap Clap Clap Clap
England!

Disappointingly there doesn't seem to be any footage of these games on YouTube. The nearest I could find was this clip from 1962 - which England lost 1-2.

But the League Cup final was my first Wembley match to watch adults play (even though Chris Woods was actually younger than I was) and the first time I'd seen Forest on neutral ground.

Wembley Origins

As most people know Wembley was opened in 1923. It took exactly 300 days to build and cost three quarters of a million pounds (about 41 million in today's money.) It was completed just four days before the 1923 F.A. Cup final between West Ham United and Bolton Wanderers.

Wembley on 5th September 1922 - 231 days to go till completion!

The F.A. goofed terribly in not anticipating how many people would want to attend and so, incredibly, didn't make the game all-ticket. Famous scenes of chaos ensued.

Here's some incredible footage of the opening day, 28th April 1923...

Somehow the game still managed to get played with Bolton ending up winning 2-0. The official attendance was 126,047 but most estimates suggest three times that number actually came to Wembley that day.

Did anyone not wear at hat in those days?

Thousands invade the pitch

Astonishing scenes at Wembley in 1923

It was called "The White Horse Final" because one of the boboes was white

Every final (apparently apart from the 1982 replay between Spurs and QPR) since then has been made all ticket.

47 F.A. Cup finals had been played at Wembley stadium by the time of this match and ten League Cup finals. So this was the 59th domestic final to be played at the stadium.

Forest v Liverpool in the League Cup

As I've pointed out several times earlier, tracking Forest's League Cup run, we had an atrocious record in the competition before this season. Forest had only ever been as far as the 4th round (last 16) and they'd only done that three times. Forest didn't even take part ion the competition on four occasions.

Surely, Liverpool would have a better record than that.

Well, they did make it to the quarter finals - twice, that's true. And Liverpool's average exit round is marginally (1/20th more) further than our's at 2.23. But the strange truth is that Liverpool also had a very poor record in the tournament in 1978.

They didn't bother entering for six years and by 1968 Forest had done better than them in the competition on four occasions. By 1971 the score was 5-1 to Forest but then Liverpool did better than us four years running (including those two quarter final appearances) before both clubs went out in the 3rd round in 1976 and Forest pipped them again last season.

Here's the best Liverpool had done in the comp so far. In 1974 they lost to Wolves in the quarter final after a draw at Anfield. Liverpool were bizarrely playing in white - maybe because the game was played in the afternoon due to power cuts.

So, remarkably, in terms of best progress per season in the League Cup, Forest were ahead 6-5.

6-5 (in seasons) to Forest in the League Cup

The Road to Wembley

Let's recap on how Forest got to the final, and compare it with Liverpool's path.

2nd Round

Way back at the start of the season, on 29th August, Forest thrashed first division West Ham United 5-0 to easily get through to the 3rd round. It was only Forest's 4th game of the season. It was watched by Forest's lowest attendance of the season, 18,234. The goals were scored by Ian Bowyer (2), Martin O'Neill, Tony Woodcock and Peter Withe.

Liverpool had a tougher-looking encounter from today's perspective, at home to Chelsea, but at the time the two were pretty well matched. West Ham had finished 17th the season before and Chelsea, like Forest, were newly promoted. Liverpool won 3-0 in front of 33,170 with goals from Kenny Dalglish and Jimmy Case.

3rd Round

Forest had a satisfying 4-0 win against the ultimate, closest and oldest derby rivals, Notts County. 26,931 watched two more from Ian Bowyer another Tony Woodcock goal and a penalty from John Robertson seal us the place in the next round.

Liverpool had a tougher time beating Derby County at Anfield 2-0 in front of 30,400. David Fairclough got both goals.

4th Round

In the 4th Round Forest scored another 4, beating Aston Villa 4-2 in front of 29,333. Larry Lloyd, Viv Anderson, Peter Withe and Tony Woodcock grabbed the goals.

Liverpool could only draw 2-2 at home to Coventry City in their 4th round tie. 33,817 watched David Fairclough and Phil Neal get the Liverpool goals. The replay at Highfield Road, three weeks later drew a crowd of 36,105. Goals from Jimmy Case and Kenny Dalglish put them through 2-0.

5th Round

In the quarter finals, Forest brushed third division Bury aside 3-0 at Gigg Lane in front of 21,500. Ian Bowyer, Martin O'Neill and John Robertson got the goals. Liverpool also had a tough match away at third division opposition. They won at The Racecourse Ground, Wrexham in front of 25,641. A Dalglish hat trick sealed a 3-1 win.

Semi-Finals

Forest powered their way past Leeds winning 3-1 at Elland Road (43,222, Withe 2, O'Hare) and 4-2 at home (38,131, Withe, Bowyer, O'Neill, Woodcock).
Liverpool edged past Arsenal, winning at home 2-1 (Dalglish and Kennedy) in front of 44,764 and got a 0-0 at Highbury in front of 49,561.

So, Forest had scored an incredible 23 goals in their six games on the way to Wembley, conceding 3. Liverpool had scored 14 and conceded 4 in seven games.

Our Road to Wembley

That's the clubs' road to Wembley, what about ours?

We went on the bus. It might have been a Barton's bus (from Nottingham) but it might have been Butler's from Kirkby. Butler's bus depot was literally 320m from the first house I lived in, the one dad bought, 46 Cookson Street. I used to pass it every day on my way to school (Jeffries) and once got in trouble when I hid there whilst playing truant.

Butlers Buses - 320m from 46 Cookson Street where I used to live

Nice bus, shame about the lack of toilets

We certainly lived up to the kind of reputation that ignorant northerners generally get concerning trips to Wembley. We were drinking on the bus all the way down the M1. These coaches had no built in lavatory, so was bound to be problematic. Sure enough, somewhere near Luton, a whole motorway full of traffic, seemingly all destined for the famous twin towers, ground to a halt, and thousands of Forest fans climbed off the hundreds of buses to urinate on the grassy bank next to the road. It was funny at the time.

I certainly arrived at Wembley somewhat inebriated and consequently have few memories of the game other than watching it from what seemed miles away in the days before Wembley's redevelopment into a modern stadium properly designed for football matches. We were in the end where the players came out, to the left of the Royal Box as the queen would see it (if she had been there, which she wasn't).

Silverware

So, this was it. Forest were potentially 90 minutes away from winning their first bit of significant silverware since winning the F.A. Cup in 1959, their second trophy in 112 years of history.

As everyone knows. this was about to change but before it does, let's look at the list of English clubs who had won something in their history.

This list is sorted first on total pieces of silverware won, then if tied, on the number of league championships, then F.A. Cups and then League Cups. If there's still a tie it sorts them by the most recent win in those three tournaments in the same order of priority.

So, on March 18th 1978 Forest were 27th in the English silverware table. It's remarkable, from today's perspective that Aston Villa were, quite comfortably, still the number one club in terms of English trophy wins with 16 wins compared to Arsenal & Liverpool's 12.

Notice there is no boringly predictable "big six" winning everything in sight year after, tedious, year.

Sorry, Boro, I have to ask this question...

So, which are the biggest clubs that (in 1977) had never won anything?

This is the top ten clubs (in terms of league placement at the end of the 1976-77 season) that had never won a single piece of silverware.

This list would change though over the next few years.

Right, onto the match...

Come on U Reds!!!

The Teams

Forest had to switch to League Cup mode and so Peter Shilton, David Needham and Archie Gemmill made way for young Chris Woods - who had never even visited Wembley before, Larry Lloyd and Ian Bowyer. John McGovern retained his place but was still clearly not 100% match fit and made way for John O'Hare later in the game.

For Liverpool, Graeme Souness was also cup tied so made way for Ian Callaghan. Ray Clements (presumably recovered from an injury) returned for Steve Ogrizovic in goal. Terry McDermott returned after missing one league game.

Brian Clough leads 'em out in front of us at Wembley

Liverpool
1 Ray Clemence, 2 Phil Neal, 3 Tommy Smith, 4 Phil Thompson, 5 Ray Kennedy, 6 Emlyn Hughes, 7 Kenny Dalglish, 8 Jimmy Case, 9 Steve Heighway, 10 Terry McDermott, 11 Ian Callaghan.
Substitutions: David Fairclough (12) came on for Ray Kennedy(5).

Nottingham Forest
1 Chris Woods, 2 Viv Anderson, 3 Frank Clark, 4 John McGovern, 5 Larry Lloyd, 6 Kenny Burns, 7 Martin O'Neill, 8 Ian Bowyer, 9 Peter Withe, 10 Tony Woodcock, 11 John Robertson.
Substitutions: John O'Hare(12) came on for John McGovern (4).
Attendance: 100,000

The Game

Forest kicked towards us in the first half but we didn't see much of that, frankly. In fact Liverpool almost scored in the first few seconds when Kenny Burns misjudged a through ball leaving none other than Kenny Dalglish one on one against the eighteen year old Chris Wood. Inexplicably, Dalglish fluffed his lines and failed to convert.

It set the tone for much of the match. Forest making uncharacteristic mistakes all over the place and Liverpool not quite capitalizing on them. John McGovern, in particular, seemed very out of sorts and gave the ball away several times.

John McGovern struggling to fend off Ian Callaghan

Chris Woods rose to the occasion though and played magnificently from start to finish. He must have saved four or five certain goals. Others who were outstanding were Tony Woodcock and Martin O'Neill.

Liverpool thought they'd scored mid way through the first half but Kenny Dalglish was clearly offside (and right in Chris Wood's line of vision) when Terry McDermott struck his shot.

Offside Offside... Offside Offside!

The red dot indicates just about where I was, chanting "offside, offside!"

Bowyer and Woodcock came closest for Forest in the first half but the final at Wembley was really dominated by Liverpool.

O'Neill on form

In the second half it was more of the same and Dalglish almost scored after Chris Woods made a very rare fumble and spilled the ball in front of him. Woods recovered in time to partially block Dalglish's shot to save the day again.

Kenny Dalglish versus Larry Lloyd

Bizarrely, with almost the last kick of normal time, Forest almost stole it when Clements made a great save from Woodcock and O'Neill turned the rebound back quickly but Peter Withe blasted wide.

Paisley does the right thing

The game went into extra time and in true Clough/Taylor style, they didn't go to the players to give them any verbal encouragement or anything. We had never seen that before but would do again over the next few years. Even now, looking back with the twenty-twenty vision of hindsight, it looks like a bad decision. Why wouldn't you go and give the players a bit of a pat on the back? Surely, there was something about the previous 45 minutes that had been noticed which could have helped the players. They certainly were an odd pair.

Here's some great footage of the match and some fantastic post-match interviews in this clip...

So the whole final was set for yet another replay - up at Old Trafford, the home of Manchester United the following Wednesday night.

Other Matches

Nine first division games were played as Forest and Liverpool were battling it out at Wembley. Again it was a good day for Forest. Manchester City could have closed the gap at the top to four points if they'd won at Molineux but Wolves held them to a draw, so it remained at five points. Furthermore Forest now had two games in hand over both our closest rivals. Arsenal won to narrow their gap a little but perhaps the main other threat to Forest were Liverpool themselves, who had played the same number of games as us. They were nine points behind. We still had to go to Anfield.

At the bottom, Leicester and Newcastle both picked up single points but it hardly helped their cause. West Ham lost too and so were not two points adrift of QPR having played three games more.

Leeds beat previously in-form Middlesbrough 5-0, so ending a terrible week for the teessiders.

Trevor Francis scored again to narrow the gap at the top of the first division's top scorers chart. Imagine how many he might score if he were playing for a title contender. I'm sure that thought crossed Cloughie and Taylor's mind many times during this season.