Continuing our series commemorating the 50th-anniversary of the Club’s 1975 FA Cup final triumph over Fulham, we catch-up with former forward KEITH ROBSON, who sadly found himself sidelined by injury on the big day…
Spare a thought for Keith Robson.
One of the main movers and shakers throughout our fantastic FA Cup winning campaign, the heartbroken Hammer cruelly missed the final through injury.
After avoiding relegation by a solitary point the previous term, West Ham United looked set for another season of struggle after winning just one of their opening eight fixtures of 1974/75.
But with John Lyall taking over first-team affairs and Ron Greenwood heading ‘upstairs’ at Upton Park, that change at the top proved the catalyst for Robson’s career-defining move from his native North East to adopted East End.
Typically, it had not been the smoothest journey for the Club’s colourful, charismatic Matchday Ambassador, who originally came onto the radar of his local team after netting a double hat-trick for Dowdon Boys in the early-1970s.
“Sunderland’s manager, Alan Brown, came to my house inviting me for a trial but I missed my bus and the next one was cancelled, too,” sighs Robbo. “That ended all hopes of playing at Roker Park but a couple of years later, Keith Burkinshaw, who later managed Tottenham Hotspur, gave me my chance with Newcastle United.
“Although the city was only 16 miles away, I’d never been there in my life! I lived in a small mining town, Hetton-Le-Hole, and hardly ever left the place but, thankfully, the bus turned up this time. Getting off at Warwick Street, I asked a passer-by: ‘How do I get to St James’ Park?’ They must’ve reckoned I was from another planet and pointed over my shoulder. Turning around, the stadium was there in front of me.”
Flying through the ranks, Keith made his Magpies debut against Chelsea in March 1973 but despite subsequently netting five times during 15 first-team outings, he endured Tyneside torment waiting in the wings behind well-established Toon target-men, Malcolm Macdonald and John Tudor.
Fortunately for Robson, Greenwood – now free to scour the country for fresh, young talent – decided to make the long trek north to watch Newcastle reserves against Liverpool’s second-string.
“Ron had gone to look at Stewart Barraclough, but I must’ve caught his eye,” contends Keith, looking back on September 1974’s £60,000 move south. “And leaving the stadium afterwards, we strangely caught sight of each other across the street and both did a double-take.”
“Bags packed, next thing I was heading to West Ham United with my miner’s lamp and canary in its cage,” chuckles Keith with the trademark humour that still makes him a hugely popular figure at London Stadium. “I’d only seen the Hammers on television and, arriving for training, didn’t know anyone. Nobody understood my accent and Trevor Brooking must’ve thought I’d arrived from another land. Luckily, there were two ex-Sunderland boys – Mick McGiven and Keith Coleman – doing my translating.”
Robbo soon did all his talking on the pitch, though, netting five times in his opening five matches.
“On my debut, we knocked Tranmere Rovers (6-0) out of the League Cup at the Boleyn Ground, where we also beat Leicester City (6-2) and Birmingham City (3-0). Then we won at Burnley (5-3) to make it 20 goals in eleven days before drawing against Derby County (2-2), too.”
“I couldn’t have asked for a better start,” smiles the 71-year-old, who made 89 appearances in Claret and Blue, scoring 19 times. “John got us playing good, attractive, attacking football and everyone could see the difference. The players and the supporters were absolutely buzzing.
“Fearing no-one, I quickly got into scraps with hard-men like Tommy Smith (Liverpool) and Billy Bremner (Leeds United) and our crowd loved it – not only was their team playing better football but this West Ham side was more physical, too. It was a change for the better.
“The lads rarely saw anyone tackling Billy Bonds but young and carefree, I really enjoyed our training ground battles. Hard, fair and taken in great spirit, it wasn’t vicious or malicious. ‘Bonzo’ always gave as good as he got and, alongside Trevor and Frank Lampard, really helped me settle in.”
The on-fire Hammers were in the ascendancy, scorching into fifth spot by Christmas, losing just once in 17 outings.
Game-by-game, Robson’s profile grew, too.
A goal-scoring performance in our televised victory over Middlesbrough (3-0) at Upton Park in early-November put him under a shining spotlight that he would struggle to dim.
“Afterwards, they invited me onto The Big Match, which was daunting. John Lyall assured me: ‘C’mon, Keith, you’ll be alright.’ Come Sunday morning, they drove me to the television studios, where I told presenter, Brian Moore, I’d never been on telly before. ‘No problem,’ he smiled. ‘Whenever the light flashes, just look into the camera.’ My head was turning everywhere trying to keep up. I’d never seen so many cameras or flashing lights!
“It was like being in dreamland. Two months earlier, I’d been playing for Newcastle reserves and here I was on national television. People treated me like a star and, approaching my 21st birthday, I didn’t need too much persuading to enjoy the limelight.
“Sadly, my Dad – Thomas – was gravely ill and I’d go back home as often as possible. Just as we’d always done, we’d go into our Working Men’s Club, where the locals couldn’t believe what’d happened: ‘We’ve just seen you on telly again,’ they’d say. Proud moments for Dad and myself.”
“In January, we kicked-off in the FA Cup fearing no-one,” insists Keith, who played in the victory at Southampton (2-1), before missing the fourth-round ties against Swindon Town, who the Hammers overcame in a replay (2-1) following a draw (1-1) at Upton Park.
Robbo returned for the last-16 clash with Queens Park Rangers at the Boleyn Ground, where he atoned for his early mistake by nodding home the match-winner.
“Getting carried away with the derby atmosphere, I thought I was Trevor,” curses Keith having gifted the visitors the opener. “I tried a stupid back-heel and gave their goal away but fortunately, Patsy Holland equalised before I headed past [future Hammer] Phil Parkes to make it 2-1.”
Victory resulted in a quarter-final played out in a Highbury mud-bath.
“Looking at Arsenal’s pitch, I thought: ‘Surely they’ll call it off? They can’t possibly play this?’ But it went ahead and Alan Taylor – who’d arrived from Rochdale – memorably scored both goals in our 2-0 win. Arsenal had been huge favourites and couldn’t believe what’d happened. In October, they’d beaten us in the League (3-0) and going back into the Players’ Lounge, I saw the same girl working behind the bar. ‘Didn’t I say we’d beat you, next time we came here?’ I teased.”
Sadly for Keith, that was where the laughter stopped in his breakthrough 1974/75 season.
Ten days later – back amongst the bread and butter of league football – he took a seemingly innocuous whack on the thigh at Birmingham (1-1).
“Playing a one-two, John Roberts caught me,” he grimaces. “My leg ballooned up and, although physiotherapist, Rob Jenkins, put every lotion and potion on it, the bruising got worse. That haematoma was massive and the Club doctor was trying to disperse the blood using a syringe with the biggest needle I’d ever seen in my life.
“In mid-April, I played for the reserves at Swindon and, a few days later, gave it another try against Arsenal, too. Everyone was saying: ‘Get through this and you’ll be okay.’ But the clot reformed, my leg heated up and I had to come off. I went back to the specialist, who suggested I might never play again!
“Sadly, Dad passed away, too. Aged 21, I was miles from home and needed an arm around me. Instead, enjoying a beer and a bet, I’d found myself distracted, mixing with the wrong people and doing daft things.
“Mentally, I was in a bad way. I’d promised Dad I’d play at Wembley and get him a winner’s medal. Although I got involved in all the build-up to the final, I wasn’t ever going to make it against Fulham despite lots of people still reckoning I’d be in the team.”
“The manager saw I was homesick and being led astray so he took me back to stay with him,” confides Robbo, who now lives in Norfolk with wife, Karen. “John drove me into training each morning, while his wife, Yvonne, would tell him: ‘I can’t see anything wrong with Keith – he’s a nice person!’ I really appreciated what John was doing but sadly it was all too late to save my final.
“Although I’d get to play in the Charity Shield at Wembley against Derby (0-2) in August, it just wasn’t the same. Looking back, selfishly, I could’ve bluffed it against Fulham for 20 minutes and collected my medal but not to the detriment of the Club and our fans.
“I’d been devastated to miss out against Fulham but Ron – the man who’d come all that way up to Newcastle in September – said: 'You’ll play in a European final next year.' Ron’s prediction came true – I started the European Cup Winners’ Cup final against Anderlecht (2-4) and scored, too.”
“Despite everything, I’m proud of what I achieved,” concludes Robbo. “It was an absolute pleasure playing for West Ham United.”
