The legs are heavy, the brains are tired and the match is deep into extra time. Atlético Madrid win a free-kick at the corner of the box on the left. Sepp Maier, the Bayern Munich keeper, lines up his six-man wall. Looking to have all the angles covered, he shuffles to his left. Luis Aragonés and José Luis Capón stand over the ball, but it is Aragonés who takes it. Despite the obvious exhaustion, he summons the energy to whip the ball over the wall and into the net. With just six minutes left in the final, Atlético are 1-0 up and ready to pucker up and kiss the European Cup.

They survive the next five minutes, but with just a few seconds left on the clock Bayern win a throw. Franz Beckenbauer takes it and the ball finds his fellow centre-back, Hans-Georg Schwarzenbeck, named “the Kaiser’s cleaner,” by the German media. The lanky defender trundles forward with all the grace of a donkey on ice. Atlético, perhaps assuming that Schwarzenbeck is unlikely to cause offence from 30 yards out, give him time, space and an invitation to shoot. He does just that, against the wishes of his team-mates – “please don’t shoot” Paul Breitner remembers thinking. His effort is low and packed with a punch, yet from that far out Miguel Reina should save it. But the keeper is slow to get to ground and Schwarzenbeck’s arms are quick to point to the sky. It’s 1-1 and the final will have to go to a replay.

Later on in life, Capón reflected on the goal that led to that disappointing draw and said: “It was nobody’s fault, [but] it was a pity as we practically had the European Cup in our hands.” Juan Carlos Lorenzo, Atlético’s Argentine manager, thought otherwise and was quick to direct the finger of blame at Reina. “What the goalkeeper Reina did is unforgiveable,” he said. “We were at 1-0 and seven seconds from the end. Bayern broke. Beckenbauer took a throw in, giving the ball to Schwarzenbeck, a clumsy sort of defender. He took a little shot ... Do you know what Reina was doing? Giving his gloves to the Marca photographer as a memento.” Afterwards, again according to Lorenzo, Reina was nowhere to be found in the Atlético dressing room. He was allegedly discovered hiding in the referee’s room. Reina, for his part, has always denied the story.

Atlético’s route to the final that season started at home to Galatasaray. A goalless draw at home meant they would have to go to Istanbul and win. That would be no easy task. Galatasaray had won the Turkish League in each of the previous three seasons and in their latest run to the title had only lost two games. Chances were spurned until the clock struck one hundred. Atlético attacked and pumped the ball into the opposition box. It was sent back out but only reached the feet of Ignacio Salcedo. His touch was heavy but he managed to reach the ball before any Galatasaray player did. His next touch saw him curl the ball into the far corner of the net and Atlético were through.

In the second round Dinamo Bucharest were beaten away from home thanks to goals from Heraldo Bezerra and Eusebio Bejarano. The home leg, however, was a more nail-chewing affair for the Atlético fans. Bucharest took the lead after just two minutes and although Atlético soon drew level, they immediately allowed their concentration to slip and Bucharest added a second. A third away goal would see Los Rojiblancos dumped out of Cup but they held on and a goal from Capón allowed the fans to spend the final minutes with a smile on their faces.

Red Star Belgrade were next. Once again the Spanish club started the tie away from home and once again they won by two goals, this time through Aragonés and José Eulogio Gárate. At home a tense match saw Red Star lose their discipline and their place in the competition thanks to a goalless draw. Atlético would face Celtic in the semi-finals.

It will come as no surprise to those who have witnessed the violence that dominated the first leg of that semi-final that Lorenzo was in charge of the Argentina side that came to England in 1966 and kicked everyone and everything that moved, until they moved no more. “No one could have expected a feast of football, considering what was at stake,” wrote Paul Wilcox in the Guardian, “but neither could anyone have expected the disgraceful scenes which punctuated the match and might have continued as a pitched battle among the players when they left the field but for the intervention of the police.”

The first half was quiet enough, just the two yellow cards and some pushing and shoving on the sideline between Lorenzo and the Celtic manager, Jock Stein. But it really exploded in the second half. Rubén Ayala was sent off after 55 minutes for a second bookable offence and a minute later Rubén Oswaldo Díaz followed him down the tunnel after a knee-high, studs-up effort on Jimmy Johnstone’s left leg. Five more Atlético players would be booked and another, the substitute Enrique Vicente Hernández, would also enjoy an early bath.

When the final whistle blew, the Atlético players celebrated the goalless draw with a punch-up. “Eusebio [Bejarano], who had remained aloof from the troubles of the match,” wrote Wilcox, “took a swing at Johnstone, whom he blamed for having Quique [Hernández] dismissed, and then swapped punches and kicks with [David] Hay as more players joined the fracas in an effort to restore order. A couple of spectators managed to evade the police for a brief time and landed a few thumps, but thankfully the fight did not last long.”

In the return leg things quietened down, on the pitch at least. In the stands the home fans carried a banner depicting a drunken Celtic player leaning on a referee with the caption: ‘We will win in spite of Dogan Babacan [the referee in the first leg]’. Win they did, but this time they decorated the game with skill rather than foul play. Celtic proved to be stubborn opponents – with Denis Connaghan making a number of spectacular saves – and it was not until 12 minutes from time that Gárate gave his side the lead. Adelardo Rodríguez doubled that 10 minutes later and Atlético had reached the final.

The minutes in the final that divided the goals of Aragonés and Schwarzenbeck would be the closest that Atlético would come to claiming the trophy that year. In the replay that took place two days later, the first to decide a European Cup final, both sides started with a note of caution in their step. Bayern, however, were first to shake off the inertia and they were first to score. With 28 minutes on the clock a quick pass from the back caught Atlético with their hand on the snooze button. Uli Hoeness ran clear and nutmegged Reina from inside the box.

Atlético clung on despite Bayern being the better side, but with the second half came the second goal. With 11 minutes gone, Gerd Müller took the ball down at the back post and powered it into the far corner of the net from an almost impossible angle. After that, according to the Guardian report, “Atletico [sic] looked a beaten team.” They were exactly that soon enough. Müller added another, and eight minutes from time Hoeness got his second of the game. It would take Atlético 40 years to get another chance to put that pain behind them.