Fifty-five years ago, in a match at Highbury Stadium, the Leeds United goalkeeper Gary Sprake punched Arsenal midfielder Bobby Gould hard in the face. Gould had jumped to try and meet a cross with his head. As he was returning to earth in a kind of pirouette, he swung his right heel back in the direction of Sprake, jabbing his studs into his opponent’s ribcage. Crafty. Nasty. Sprake then took his revenge, laying out Gould with a left hook.
In these incidents, some kind of masculine code of honour kicked in
What happened next is a 90 second lesson in older forms of masculinity and an older form of football. As Gould is crashing to the floor post-punch, one of the Leeds players – Paul Madeley, I think – half-catches him in his arms, rather daintily breaking his fall. Several players gather at the scene, but their overall demeanour is of a bunch of men on a work break waiting for the one with the lighter so that they can spark up a ciggie.
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