It’s a date and a game etched into the minds of many Sunderland supporters, no matter whether you were around at the time or not.
Boxing Day, 1962, Sunderland versus Bury.
Alan Brown’s team were flying high in the second division – second in the league at Christmas after beating Leeds 2-1 at Roker three days before the big day, with a double header home and away to fellow promotion contenders Bury on Boxing Day and again three days later.
Sunderland were really building up a head of steam, and looked
like making a return to the top flight at the fifth time of asking, after suffering relegation for the first ever time in 1958.
The mood was buoyant after the festivities had subsided and attention turned to the game against the Shakers – Sunderland were unbeaten in 31 at Roker Park, and had the country’s top scorer, 27-year-old Brian Clough, who’d notched 24 goals in 24 games so far this season. A couple of weeks earlier, in a game against Huddersfield, he’d scored his 250th league goal in fewer games than anyone who’d played before, and was thought to be well on his way to beating Dave Halliday’s 1928-29 record of 43 goals in a season.
Of course, we all know what happened on a bitterly cold afternoon. In the 26th minute, chasing a pass from Len Ashurst, Clough was taken out by Bury keeper Chris Harker, and stretchered off with torn knee ligaments that effectively ended his career.
Ironically, ten minutes earlier, a similar incident had occurred. A nice move between Jimmy Davison and George Herd played in Clough, who was upended by Harker. Penalty to Sunderland. In the absence of the dropped Harry Hooper, who usually assumed penalty responsibilities, Charlie Hurley stepped up but put the ball wide.
Whether that incident had something to do with the event that happened ten minutes later, it’s difficult to say. But as Clough chased the ball towards goal on 26, Harker came flying out once again, and clattered into Clough. On a frosty pitch, Clough writhed in agony, as Bury’s player-manager – ex Newcastle captain Bob Stokoe – shouted at Clough to ‘stop codding’ and get on with the game.
Physically, that was impossible, and Clough departed on a stretcher – effectively ending his playing career.
In his autobiography, Walking On Water, Clough recalled the game:
I had 24 goals to my name from 24 league games, plus four more in the Cup, by the time Boxing Day arrived in 1962. That was the day that changed my life because it changed the knee joint in my right leg. We faced Bury at home on a bitterly cold, snowy, sleety day on Wearside, the kind of day when seagulls flew backwards to stop their eyes watering and made sure they kept their tail feathers well down.
That day the Clough playing career effectively ended in its prime – done and dusted, dead and Buryed… Bury goalkeeper Chris Harker’s shoulder slammed into my knee as we challenged for the ball, my head hit the ground and everything went black.
I came round soon enough and knew immediately that this was no minor injury, no simple sprain. Instinct demanded I get up but I could only crawl and I’ll never forget the voice of Bury’s centre-half, Bob Stokoe – who somehow managed to win the Cup as manager of the Sunderland side that beat Leeds against all odds in 1973. He moaned at the referee, telling him to get on with the game, accusing me of play-acting. I’ll never forgive Stokoe for that.
The game ended 1-0 to Bury, defender Brian Turner scoring against the ten men on the hour mark from the edge of the box and Ambrose Fogarty having a goal disallowed for offside as they pressured the opposition for an equaliser.
Post-match, with Clough laid up in hospital, speculation immediately began on the extent of Sunderland’s star striker’s injury.
After the game, Alan Brown said:
It is impossible to say yet how long Clough will be out of the game, or even how long he will be in hospital.
The report I have from the hospital is that he has torn knee ligaments.
I know, from my own playing experience, that this COULD be a long job, and may entail the injury being put in plaster, but until we get further information, it is pointless to speculate.
There is no doubt it is a big blow, but we must not forget that the player is suffering more than we are. We can only wait—and hope for the best.
The repercussions of that game were immense for both Sunderland and Brian Clough. We missed out on promotion that season, and who knows what would have happened with Clough leading the line in the top flight. (He did, of course, make a comeback attempt 18 months later, but with little success.)
The injury affected him mentally – as a fitness fanatic and someone who rarely drank he was under immense stress, and initially Sunderland looked after him and his attempts to regain fitness, but seem to have been motivated by the £40,000 insurance policy they had for the player should he suffer a career ending injury.
Clough said:
I believe they were more concerned with getting the money than with my continued belief that I could keep on playing.
George Hardwick, who had replaced Brown, appointed Clough as youth team manager – the Roker board renaged on a promise of a longer contract for Hardwick, who wanted to appoint Clough as his assistant. Who knows what would have happened there…
In his autobiography, Clough described the impact the injury had on him.
Assumptions were made about me when the end came at Sunderland. It was assumed I would stay in the game in some capacity, at some level. It was assumed I would pass my coaching badges with no problem whatsoever. Everybody else was convinced I’d be fine but, deep inside, I felt vulnerable. Suddenly that world out there seemed a hell of a lot bigger. For weeks I wished the injury hadn’t happened; every time I was nodding off to sleep I wished that something magical might cure it during the night.
There is nothing like playing. You’ve heard it a million times from many sources but it remains the irrefutable truth. There is nothing like putting on that pristine kit and tying on those immaculate boots, nothing like the smell of the dressing room and the adulation of the crowd – particularly when you were as good as I was at doing the thing the fans want to see most. There is nothing to equal the ecstasy of putting the ball in the net.
Looking back I can think of clouds and silver linings and that type of thing. Thanks to George Hardwick’s generosity – and it was generous because neither he nor I knew whether I could coach – I was given a head start on others of my age. I was able to take the first tentative steps on the road to a managerial career five years ahead of schedule. That was some compensation at least for having to draw a line under my playing career so prematurely. It set other wheels in motion. I never got over finishing so soon, never recovered from the blow of that injury (in fact, the knee still gives me unmerciful gyp) but I was on my way.
Management, here I come – with another chip on my shoulder to go with the rest.
It will always be a crying shame we never got to see more of Clough the player for Sunderland – nor, indeed, Clough the manager.
What could have been, but for that injury 63 years ago today.
