“Jesus Christ - that’s Upson Downes!”: An Everton face in the crowd
It's amazing how often it happens. Researching football history you unearth a little gem that leaves you shouting 'Eureka!' Or something even stronger.
Early in 2024, a poster on the Bentley’s Roof forum called 'Upson Downes' was recalling a game at Everton in the sixties which was memorable for two reasons.
First, Stanley Matthews was playing for the visiting team - Stoke City. And second, from his position behind the goal, Upson got a whack in the face from a wayward shot.
That ball went:
right into my face. My head was knocked right back and it felt like my nose had broke and flattened like a boxer's and hurt like hell, my eyes were watering and I was mortified the blokes would think I was crying.
Wet mud was spattered over my face. All the blokes around were saying "****n'ell lad dat muster'urt!" and the like, patting me on the head. I'll never forget it!
Like so many old supporters' anecdotes, it leaves you wanting to find out more. The first thought I had was, 'Can I put a date on that game?'
Stoke were promoted back to the top flight in 1963, but Matthews played only ten games for them after that before he retired. Could one of those have been at Goodison?
The only candidate was Saturday November 23rd 1963, Everton 2 Stoke City 0.
I had a look at the archives and - bingo:
After missing several games with injury, Stanley was back.
He was now 48, but he was still such a draw that his presence would lead to banner headlines like that, and add thousands to the gate.
But before we come to the match, we need to look at the build-up in more detail.
At Everton's previous two home games, it wasn't events on the pitch that made the headlines. Against Spurs, visiting keeper Bill Brown told the press that a dart had been thrown from behind the goal at the Gwladys Street end.
Then against Blackburn Rovers, Everton's Tony Kay was sent off, and after the game, as the Echo reported, 'Several thousand irate fans gathered outside the ground chanting 'We want the referee!'.
The club, fearing the FA's response, decided to take preemptive measures. They closed off a section of terracing behind each goal in the hope of thwarting the missile throwers. - an unprecedented step in English football.
This was the bizarre scene at each end of the ground:
A credulous Echo reporter stated that 'the barriers will not prevent people throwing missiles, but any missile thrown will have lost its impetus by the time it arrives'. Hmmm. Even from that distance, anyone with a half-decent arm would still fancy their chances with a rotten tomato or a three-penny bit.
So the stage was set. The grand old gentleman of English football would grace a Merseyside pitch for the final time, to a backdrop of ugly anti-hooligan steel scaffolding. Truly the end of one era, and the onset of another.
Then, on the Friday afternoon came the real shocker. News broke that JFK had been shot in Dallas.
His death was marked across the country the following day. As Stanley Matthews lined up with his teammates at Goodison for a minute's silence, one Everton fan shouted 'Long live Khrushchev!', and just to prove what a free country we live in, he was hurriedly ushered out of the ground.
Then came an urgent announcement. Everton had overlooked one key thing. What would happen if the match ball went behind the goal into that steel maze? They had to make an appeal for the club's young amateur players to assemble behind each goal and act as ball boys.
When the game kicked off, all eyes were on Stanley, and he was not letting anyone down:
He was struggling to link up with his fellow forwards though, and it was Everton who went in front with a Tony Kay 20-yarder.
At half-time the PA announcer took a break from playing Beatles records and gave an old classic a spin - 'Don't Fence Me In'. The crowd quickly got the joke and started singing along.
In the second half Derek Temple added a second and Everton ran out comfortable 2-0 winners. There were no further off the field incidents, and Everton chairman John Moores could congratulate himself on his splendid new crowd control idea. This is how the Gwladys Street end looked during the game:
In the Echo on Monday, the cartoonist focused on the obvious themes. This was Stanley:
But it was the final panel of the cartoon that had me rubbing my eyes in disbelief.
It seems that a young boy in the crowd, right behind one of those barriers, had been hit in the face by the ball and left in some distress:
The caption reads: 'The barriers were voted a great success, but the incident when Vernon's shot scudded into the crowd appears to have been overlooked'. And the speech bubble says, 'We'll report it to the Dart Players Association - someone kicked a football at him!'
Surely not.
It couldn't be, could it?
Let's have a closer look at that poor face:
Recall what Upson Downes said:
My head was knocked right back and it felt like my nose had broke and flattened like a boxer's and hurt like hell, my eyes were watering and I was mortified the blokes would think I was crying. Wet mud was spattered over my face. All the blokes around were saying "****n'ell lad dat muster'urt!"
A perfect description of the cartoon.
Now in his recollection, it was Stanley Matthews who kicked the ball at him, not Roy Vernon, but given the daze he was in you can expect a little mixing up of the details.
There is only one conclusion we can sensibly reach. To borrow that famous line from The Bourne Ultimatum:
Jesus Christ. That's Upson Downes.
Well, in the Spring I put this story on the Everton forum grandoldteam.com, and there was a great response from Toffees fans. I sent a link to ‘Upson Downes’ himself and this was his reaction:
What a brilliant surprise, way beyond my wildest dreams! You've just brought real memories back from over half a century ago - and left me with a printable souvenir! THANKS THANKS AND THANKS AGAIN!
He also sent this photo of himself in an Everton kit that year, and told me his real name. I’ll maintain online anonymity and not reveal that name, but here’s that great picture.
Let’s imagine it’s a Leicester shirt, shall we? January 1963, just as the Ice Kings hit top gear, playing the best football of any team in the country - well, at least until the final month of the season. It was then that the Everton School of Soccer Science, as they liked to be called, moved past us to take the title.
Here’s another piece linking the fortunes, or perhaps I should say misfortunes, of Everton and Leicester.
