Manchester City’s first superstar who bridged the divide with United

The 1958 Munich Air Disaster is closely associated with Manchester United, but Manchester City lost one of their greatest ever goalkeepers on that cold and bitter runway in Bavaria. Every United fan should know of the devastation caused to the Busby Babes, but fewer will know of the others who lay slain after flight 609 crashed and burnt in the sleet.

Amongst the dead was Frank Swift, the former City goalkeeper who was a friend and ex-team mate of Matt Busby. Swift was 43 and had retired from playing when he travelled to Belgrade as a columnist for the News of the World. He hated flying, but his desire to follow the fortunes of United in Europe prevailed. Swift had travelled with the United party on previous European sorties in the name of work and the players and management treated him like one of their own.

Busby called him the “Big Fella” and before the 1958 European Cup semi final nine months earlier, Bobby Charlton, Dennis Viollet and Liam Whelan coaxed Swift out of the press box and on to the pitch in Real Madrid’s Santiago Bernabéu for a photo opportunity before the biggest crowd United have ever played before – 135,000. Swift had watched United leap up the learning curve of European football and by 1958 he was convinced that United were set to win the European Cup. His distinguished career as a player ensured he knew what he was talking about.

When Swift had joined City from Fleetwood on a free transfer in 1933, the Blues were the top team in Manchester. He joined a good side who were about to become great. Making his debut in the City goal at just 18, Swift went on to miss only one game until the outbreak of war six years later, earning both a league championship medal and FA Cup winners’ medal. It was after the 1934 FA Cup final that Swift first entered public prominence, when, overcome with emotion, he fainted after the final whistle and had to be revived to receive his medal from King George V.

In later years, he would try to relieve the big match nerves by fooling around on and off the field. Ex United ’keeper Harry Gregg remembered in his recent autobiography: “The great Frank Swift taught me a valuable lesson about how to win over even the most ardent away fans. I put it into practice against Everton at Goodison Park. Instead of hurling a bit of abuse back as I would have normally done, I tried to appeal to that famed Scouse humour. One guy had been calling me all the names of the day. I decided to wind him up and asked him for a fag. His witty response was, “Fuck off you Irish bastard”. Eventually, though, he gave in and passed me a match and a cigarette…within minutes the Evertonians were chanting my name.”

Swift played 19 times for England and became the first goalkeeper to captain the national side in the 20th century. Former City professional Fred Eyre remembers him being his childhood hero. “Frank Swift was City’s first superstar. He was the first character who had fun with the crowd. He had enormous hands and could pick the ball up one-handed. I can remember going to my first City game at the age of three and knowing just one player – Swift. You had no replica kits in those days and my mum bought me a green boy scout top and turned it into a ’keeper’s top so I could be like Frank Swift.”

Swift made 372 first team appearances for City. Had it not been for the Second World War, which robbed him and many players of his generation of their prime, it would have been many more. During the war, Matt Busby managed the British Army side and chose Swift as ’keeper. After hostilities ended, Swift played a further four seasons at Maine Road and when his City career had come to an end in the 1949-50 season, Busby tried to tempt him to sign him for United. Swift declined the offer, and eventually moved into journalism.

On the 8th February 1958, two days after Munich, City’s players wore black armbands and a minute’s silence was held as a mark of respect to those who had perished in Germany. Their first programme after the crash featured tribute after tribute with the City chairman Alan Douglas writing: “For many, many years, there has existed a rivalry between the two clubs, but just as we at Maine Road have rejoiced in United’s many triumphs, so now we share their sorrow. I would assure Harold Hardman, the chairman of Manchester United, and all associated with Manchester United, that while the blow they have received is a cruel one, it is not a knock out, and we at Manchester City are convinced that United will recover…if we can do anything to help them in any way, however small, to achieve that objective, we shall regard it as a privilege to do it.”

Great words, and it’s a shame that some City fans besmirched the name of Munich in song, yet while the Manchester derby is a fierce one, relations between the former players are excellent. They always take a table at each others’ dinners and there are some close friendships.

Before he died, I went to see Bert Trautmann, who became an even more famous City goalkeeper than Swift. Trautmann’s wife made us tea and cake and conversation turned to Munich.

“Of course I was concerned for everyone on the plane, but Frank especially,” said Trautmann. “It was human nature, I knew him. He was my predecessor in goal at Maine Road.

“I heard nothing more than that for two days when it was announced that he’d lost his life. Frank was a legend, the former captain of England. And he was good to me. I first saw him play in ’48: a great goalkeeper without doubt, even as his career came to a close. Matt Busby tried to sign him then, that’s what United thought of Frank. He came into the dressing room at Burnden Park in 1949 before my debut and sat beside me.

“Now listen son,” he said. As a German, I wasn’t sure what to make of him calling me ‘son’, but the other players told me that he called everyone ‘son’. It was his term of endearment.

“You go out there and there will be 40-50,000 spectators,” he said. I nodded. “Ignore them.”

“I was naturally very nervous as I’d only been playing for St. Helens Town in front of 2,000, but Frank’s words relaxed me. He had a big personality, but he never tried to impose his views on me, influence how I played, or talk down to me. When I was established, people made comparisons between us. I obviously felt flattered.

“Frank came up to me at the civic reception in Manchester Town Hall after we’d won the 1956 FA Cup and put his hand on my shoulder as he spoke to me. I didn’t know that I’d broken my neck in the game and fell down to my knees in pain when Frank touched me. He apologised and said that I didn’t look the best. I realised then that I needed to see a doctor.

“Later that month, the West German football association invited me as their guest to watch West Germany v England in Berlin. I saw Duncan Edwards play. He was a very special talent, so strong but technically very smart. He scored and England won 3-1. It was on that trip that I suffered a tragedy myself. News came through that I had lost my son in an accident in Manchester.

“Two years later the disaster happened at Munich. I knew the United boys, the Busby Babes. Our paths crossed socially, we did charity work together and there was a great mutual respect. I’d played against them many times and while there was a rivalry, it was a healthy one without nastiness. We used to do well against United. City were a big club with a big name – we’d won the FA Cup in 1956 when the Busby Babes won the league - but United had a bigger name because the team was so young, so gifted. Matt Busby was like a football god.

“All of the City players went to the emotional game at Old Trafford against Sheffield Wednesday after the crash. We’d already worn black armbands out of respect. We supported United that night. We wanted to do anything we could to help United. We shared in their sorrow.”