He was one of my favourite refs. what a character loads of banter with the players and never let the crowd bother him, he let the game flow and was the opposite of his name, he would have stood out these days as an excellent referee, I doubt he would like referees 200 miles away butting into the game and telling him to change his mind!

Little, tubby and baldy, but a good, strong ref. He used to break into a frantic run, and screech to a halt.

Didn’t he once take the names of an entire defensive wall for not retreating 10 yards at a free kick?

Great name for a referee too.

Yes, he used to make a decision then sprint away from the incident avoiding any arguments. I always thought of Lionel Jeffries the English comedy actor when I saw Fussey in action, a lovely funny style but a very good referee.

I would have loved to have watched Alan Ball in his prime given the recollections of those who witnessed him.

My father insisted we watched Southampton when he was there. Past his prime, but we watched him. And I listened to the stories.

I suppose it was similar to listening to tales of Alex Young and Evertonians berating Harry Catterick in a car park for dropping him in favour of Joe Royle.

I love the tales of the '60s teams. Recently I've been in debate with the family as to whether the best team was 69-70 or 84-85. I know mine, but that's an age thing.

He took a bit of stick too.

I couldn't remember him to be honest so I googled him, he refereed both the semi-finals between Liverpool and Nottm Forest.

The first was abandoned due to the tragedy that was Hillsborough and he said his statement to describe what had occurred in the first game was altered to possibly help the police's version. He is still working for the FA in some capacity.

I didn't think that you could touch the ball twice from a penalty. The keeper must have touched it.

Everton had already equalised at 2-2 before this penalty event. sorry for the confusion as it was disallowed.

Are there any Blues out there who got a ticket through those raffles?

As it was going nowhere for a few hours most sat down and soon a card school got going playing Nap. In Nap there are 2 kitties and what with over ambitious calling and outright no hope 'kitty saving' calls, there was a few quid in both (at a shilling a go).

Then the queue started to move and all hands quickly weighed up the situation and 5 or 6 players all dived on the piles of cash...being young and quick, I came out with a decent hand full, much more than I'd put in, all-in-all a good afternoon's work.

Pretty soon I was the proud possessor of a 7s/6d ticket.

Monday back at school, the obligatory forged note went in.

Tuesday, I was called to the Vice Principles office to answer for my forgery crimes.

"Did you get a ticket?" "Yes, Sir."

3 strokes of the cane later, Mr Woodwood asked me, "Was it worth it?" Through gritted teeth, I said, "Yes, Sir."

"Well, you'd better hope they win then… now bugger off1'.

Chairman, J. Sharp.

Would that be Jack Sharp(s) on Whitechapel?

I used to love that place. Handy for Reg Makin's.

On the Saturday morning at the crack of dawn, I joined the hundreds on the East Lancs Road hitching a lift, with my dad's haversack loaded with sandwiches, broken biscuits and a lucozade and Dandelion and Burdock. I was prepared and, when a lorry stopped, we all piled in the back.

On to the M6, past Birmingham, a coach with standing room... all the way from Glasgow, going to the final. I just followed the crowds with no idea where I was going.

The game… heartbroken.. darn Jeff Astle. I followed others into Euston, didn't have a train ticket but no-one asked for one. I walked in at 11:30pm, still had the 6 shillings pocket money I left with. My Nan said nowhere, gave me a big plate of streaming scouse and said "Don't worry there's always next year."

I threw away the program and to this day I have never watched the game... but imagine letting your 15-year-old daughter hitch-hike to London for the Cup Final, on her own. But I was never on my own... always a blue!

Now there is a blast from the past!!

The "pop man" delivered every Saturday morning. I can't find it anymore.

What a great story shame about the result.

Jack Sharps on Whitechapel was opened by our former player, Jack Sharp, a cup winner in 1906, and a right winger, very quick, according to my Dad. He played for England, at both football and cricket. He was a pretty popular footballer, gracing many a cigarette card.

He was a director of the club for years, and I think his firm supplied the club kits too.

He died years before 1968, so I’m guessing this was his son, or some other relative.

When we took a net to Walton Hall Park to fish for minnows, in the 1950s, my Dad used to call them “Jack Sharps” because of their speedy and darting swimming.That gives some idea of his popularity, 50 years later.

Lovely, memory jerking article Trevor. In 2016 I did a piece myself about the 66 Final, “Was it really half a century ago”, and it brought on a shed load of memories from us success starved Blue Boys and Girls. All it takes us for someone like you (or me!) or Christine or Dave A to recount an adventure and we're back in time, misty-eyed, dreaming of happier footballing times and… well, why not! Wonderful memories deserve an outing sometimes.

Paul@12, I'm sure you could buy match tickets at Jack Sharp at one time, anyone else remember that?

Brilliant story, a brave young girl who made that trip to Wembley on her own, hitching a lift. Blimey, I wasn't backward in coming forward at that age 15 but I would have thought twice about having a go at that. Well done, girl.

That Dandelion and Burdock, as Danny says, it seems hard to get but 3 years ago in a restaurant in Lark Lane they were selling that and in the old-fashioned bottles with wire attached to the tops, and it still tasted as lovely as it did all those years ago.

In fact, when my Nan went to church for evening services, me and my mate Mick used to mix it with her very strong cough mixture, we didn't realise the cough mixture contained morphine and we were only about 11 or 12.

We'd finish up laughing our head's off at anything, out of our bleedin' cakes!

Danny, Barrs still do it in cans, here in New Zealand they import it along with Irn Bru. On many a Saturday morning here, I drive the 60 km to New Plymouth to the discount shop that sells it at $2.50 a can, worth every cent... then 60 km home, every sip savoured with a smile!

Dave, scares me to death even thinking about hitching a ride now... bit like riding my bike to Southport and back with mates to go the beach. We were 7...

Putting pennies on the railway line to flatten them out as the steam trains carrying coal went past.

I went to every game that season, most of the away games too, not on my own though, uncle Jimmy rode shotgun. He couldn't get a final ticket... like thousands of others.

I got my 1966 cup final ticket off Ton Finney, met him at the semi final v Man Utd in Bolton. I made a fuss of him because he was my favourite British footballer when he was playing. I wrote him a nice (begging) letter for a ticket and he did the honours.

1968, I wrote another nice letter to Gordon Honeycombe, who was the news reader on Granada TV, he also had a hand in writing “The Golden Vision” about Alex Young. I told him what a brilliant play it was and how well it was received on Merseyside. He wrote back to ask to send a cheque or a postal order for £2 10s and he would send me a ticket, I did and the ticket arrived, a stand ticket.

The power of the pen and a bit of snivelling went a long way.

Ray, that rings bells even with me, but that might be me being all Everton rosy nostalgic.

My mate Steve called it the Hairy Ball Stores.

It was a fairly basic place, and apparently it started life, way back, as a temperance place where folks who’d forsworn the demon drink went to socialise.

They had big old stoneware flagons of their brews, including Dandelion and Burdock, Sarsaparilla, and suchlike, and served glasses of that. I used to go with my mates to sample their wares, feeling very grown up, in a place that felt like a bar. We were probably about 10 or 11.

That stuff had properties which could relieve most digestive problems, like liquid Pickfords, it could shift anything.

Even back in the 1950s it was a historical anomaly.

I think Brian Labone played bowls on the green there, but I doubt he went into the Herbal Stores.