Remember This? Times Thursday 30/4/70 Chelsea seize Cup in epic final

By GEOFFREY GREEN, Football Correspondent
Chelsea 2, Leeds United 1
The treadmill is over. A new name is on the F.A. Cup and it belongs to Chelsea. One of the most punishing finals in modern history-perhaps all history- begun at Wembley with extra time over a fortnight ago, ended at Old Trafford, Manchester, last night, again in extra time.
Looking back over the long struggle we can now say that Chelsea came three times from behind to match the league champions of last year and finally snatched the winner 14 minutes in the extra period. Any side that can do that against such a worthy foe from Yorkshire deserve their trophy.
So, with an historic touch about it. Chelsea have at last won the prize which they first played for at Old Trafford in the final of 1915, when Sheffield United beat them. And when Lord Derby that day handed the cup to the Yorkshire- men of Sheffield, he said: "You have played with one another and against one another for this cup. Play together for England now !"
Those words may now be echoed in a different way, for there were six men on the pitch last night who will leave on Monday with England's World Cup party for Mexico. They, too, must play for England.
This was no match for weaklings. As the sun dipped out of sight over Old Trafford's mighty stands it seemed to take with it flaming streamers of the day; and it left behind a bonfire. Here was a match of gleaming steel, mostly the broadsword, which was used with impunity by both sides and allowed to be used by a referee who would have a short life in Latin America.
From the earliest stages bush fires of anger flickered across the field-briefly, it is true before they died. Yet all the time there was a cauldron simmering just beneath the surface as the match steadily increased in excitement and vigour, with Chelsea fighting back in the second half out of a dark hole. By halftime, indeed, Leeds looked to have the match wrapped up and neatly labelled for themselves.
In a surge of attacking football between the twentieth minute and the half hour they had Chelsea by the throat. A terrific tackle by Dempsey stopped Clarke bursting through on a long pass from Lorimer; Lorimer flashed a right foot thunderbolt inches wide; Jones flicked the side netting close in after a move down the left between Giles and Gray. And all this was heavily underlined when McCreadie cleared off the line from Lorimer, with Bonetti stranded.
This could scarcely last-the more so when Bonetti was felled heavily as Jones crashed into him on a long cross from Madeley. After lengthy repairs to the Chelsea goalkeeper, who later emerged again as one of the heroes of the night, it was seen that Bonetti was limping on one leg. His left knee was heavily bandaged after the interval.
But by then Leeds had at last taken the lead they so well deserved. It came nine minutes from the change of ends. And what a great goal it was. It began with Clarke, who ghosted his way past three tackles across midfield, slipped a through pass to Jones, who, going like a steam engine, held off the close attentions of Dempsey, eluded tie converging tackles of Hollins and McCreadie and fairly thundered a right-foot shot to the top of Bonetti's right- hand corner.
It was a goal from the past, as old-fashioned as the horse and carriage. It revived memories of Ted Drake in his heyday. But slowly Chelsea, who had been caught time after time in the close meshes of their over-complicated game, began to open out and find themselves. Up till then their football had been soft at the edges and blank as unwritten paper on a pitch bulldozed for speed.
There was some vicious tackling. Boadicea might have been on parade with the knives on her chariot wheels. There were moments when the football was as raw as uncooked meat. It was like a hoarse declaration of protest as the 62,000 crowd showed their anger at the other man's guilt. At last, with half an hour left, Chelsea began to find their tide mark.
With 25 minutes left Hutchinson was booked. But by now Osgood, Cooke and Hollins had begun to play beautifully, moving the ball smoothly in flowing moves of unexpected angle. Suddenly, they began to burn some magic fuels. Here was the echo of Wembley again. Having been largely overplayed there for a long period, as now they began to come at the right moment. The change in the tide, and the feeling it communicated to the packed company, gave out an intense radiation. It almost dislocated the senses.
Where once the great steam roller of Leeds had driven forward, with Giles and Bremner putting Jones, Gray and Lorimer into full stride, and with Clarke adding some highly cultured and sensitive touches, it had all been one way. Now it was the elegant Osgood, the elusive Cooke and the non-stop Hollins who oiled Chelsea’s wheels at last.
With 10 minutes left they suddenly were level. Theirs, too, was a beautiful goal: more complicated, more finely ingrained, more liquid and created virtually out of nothing. Here was the poetry of football and it came with a magical exchange of passes between Hollins, Hutchinson, Osgood and then the hard-running Cooke. Over came Cooke's perfect chip and there was Osgood infiltrating from the left to the blind side to head a magnificent goal.
So it was extra time, as at Wembley, and with only seconds to go to the last change-round before yet another replay, there came one of Hutchinson's long throw-ins from the left. Up went Jackie Charlton and, poor fellow, his back header swung across a crowded goalmouth. There was a sudden surge of figures and, ironically, it was Webb, the man who had been so tormented at Wembley, who was up first to head the winner.
That was it; and though Hinton came on as a substitute for Osgood in the last five minutes as a tactical stroke for Chelsea, and though Bremner moved up front and though brave Leeds threw it all their last resources it was no good. Having looked the winners, they were now the losers. Leeds, like Sisyphus, have pushed three boulders almost to the top of three mountains and are now left to see them all back in the dark of the valley.
CHELSEA.-P. Bonetti R Harris. E. McCreadie: J. Hollins J. Dempsey. D. Webb. T. Baldwin. C. Cooke, P. Osgood (Hinton). I. Hutchinson. P. Houseman
LEEDS UNITED.-D. Harvey: P. Madeley. T. Cooper: W. Bremner. J. Charlton. N. Hunter P Lorimer. A. Clarke,. M Jones. J. Giles E Gray
Referee: Mr E T Jennings (Stourbridge).