Munich - The Anniversary - 51 years on

It was on this day, 51 years ago, that the saddest event in the history of this fine club took place. I need not go into great detail about those events as they are well known and well chronicled elsewhere. I'd advise anyone who only knows fleeting details or who just wants to remember that day in greater depth to read Munich58.co.uk and thebusbybabes.com. It is never too late and you are never too old to read about the events of the sixth of February, 1958.

The poignant, honest words of the Flowers of Manchester ring true once more today and everyone, whatever club you support, should read this at least once on this day.

The Flowers of Manchester

One cold and bitter Thursday in Munich, Germany,
Eight great football stalwarts conceded victory,
Eight men will never play again who met destruction there,
The flowers of English football, the flowers of Manchester.

Matt Busby's boys were flying, returning from Belgrade,
This great United family, all masters of their trade,
The pilot of the aircraft, the skipper Captain Thain,
Three times they tried to take off and twice turned back again.

The third time down the runaway disaster followed close,
There was slush upon that runaway and the aircraft never rose,
It ploughed into the marshy ground, it broke, it overturned.
And eight of the team were killed as the blazing wreckage burned.

Roger Byrne and Tommy Taylor who were capped for England's side.
And Ireland's Billy Whelan and England's Geoff Bent died,
Mark Jones and Eddie Colman, and David Pegg also,
They all lost their lives as it ploughed on through the snow.

Big Duncan he went too, with an injury to his brain,
And Ireland's brave Jack Blanchflower will never play again,
The great Matt Busby lay there, the father of his team
Three long months passed by before he saw his team again.

The trainer, coach and secretary, and a member of the crew,
Also eight sporting journalists who with United flew,
and one of them Big Swifty, who we will ne'er forget,
the finest English 'keeper that ever graced the net.

Oh, England's finest football team its record truly great,
its proud successes mocked by a cruel turn of fate.
Eight men will never play again, who met destruction there,
the flowers of English football, the flowers of Manchester .


I always find it a powerful piece because it does not hide from the brutality of events, nor does it try to add glamour and seek undue sympathy for those who were lost or hurt. It simply says it as it is.

It is easy to wax lyrical about the Busby Babes, to claim them as the best English club team of all time, to say that they had the world at their feet and that they would have become the best team in the world. I won't go down that route, because the truth is we will never know and I don't think a single player who died that day would have made such a claim, such was the mindset Sir Matt Busby instilled into them. Be confident, but not pompous. It is for people of that time to hold such discussions and they all seem to agree that this was a team destined for great things, especially young Duncan Edwards, and that is enough for me to know.

So on a day where we should stop to think, I will end my post with what is probably the most famous picture remaining of those who perished in the snow.