1956 was a memorable year for Bert Trautmann: soon after becoming the first goalkeeper – and the first foreigner – to be voted Footballer of the Year, he broke his neck in the FA Cup Final. Unaware, he played on in pain, winning his medal – and the respect of the nation.
Trautmann (Pictured on the right) in the 1956 FA Cup played unknowingly with a broken neck
‘I have never seen a goalkeeper to compare with Trautmann in the form he was in for two or three seasons before 1956,’ Bobby Charlton wrote in 1967. ‘The man was inhuman.’
After serving as a German soldier during the Second World War, Trautmann – real name Bernhard – signed for Manchester City in 1949, following his release from a prisoner-of-war camp in Lancashire. In his prime, he was the only goalkeeper ever to figure in the team-talks given by Matt Busby, the Manchester United manager.
‘Don’t stop to think where you’re going to hit it with Trautmann,’ Busby implored his players. ‘Hit it first and think afterwards. If you look up and work it out he will read your thoughts and stop it.’
Great saves ‘were a normal part of his game’, Charlton said. Saving penalties was a particular speciality: during his career he saved 60 per cent of the spot-kicks he faced.
At the end of the FA Cup Final in 1956 Trautmann left the field rubbing his neck. ‘At the official banquet I could hardly move my head because of the pain,’ he recalled. ‘I did not let that interfere with my enjoyment, mind you.’ He had much to celebrate: Manchester City defeated Birmingham City 3-1 that day.
It would be several days before a diagnosis was made: a fractured bone in his neck, sustained when he dived at the feet of an onrushing forward. Though obviously dazed and in pain, Trautmann stayed in his goal. The crowd responded with a chorus of ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’.
Pressures off the field made his performances on it all the more remarkable: As a former Hitler Youth member, Trautmann was an obvious target for any anti-German sentiment in the post-war era. Trautmann split opinion; others rallied to him in support. Throughout it all, he reacted with dignity. At no time did he apologise for his nationality, nor did he flinch when abused.
Gradually, though, his skill, courage and sportsmanship won over the critics. One game – at Fulham in 1950 – typified his experience. Incessant chants of ‘Kraut’ and ‘Nazi’ greeted him at Craven Cottage; ninety minutes later, following an outstanding display, Trautmann left the field to a standing ovation.
Tactically, Trautmann changed the game. At a time when goalkeepers tended to limit their responsibilities to shot-stopping and catching crosses, he thought of himself as the team’s first attacker – employing skills that he developed whilst playing handball as a boy.
‘His push-throw could send the ball 40 yards,’ Bobby Charlton wrote in 1967. ‘Most keepers have now copied this technique’, eliminating several opponents and initiating sharp counter-attacks.
For all his popularity in England – 47,000 people turned up for his testimonial at Maine Road in 1964 – Trautmann was deliberately overlooked by West Germany at international level as a result of a rule barring overseas-based players from selection.
Even so, his reputation spread. When asked to name two world-class goalkeepers, the great Russian keeper Lev Yashin rather immodestly named himself and ‘the German boy who played in Manchester’.
