Call it the Mother Teresa syndrome, if you like: the idea of one notable thing being overshadowed by another. When Mama T died in 1997, her passing was relegated to second place, in the UK anyway, by the car crash in which Princess Diana died that same week. At any other time the death of Teresa – literally a saint but no angel – might have warranted a slightly larger slice of public attention.

Which, naturally enough, brings us to Michael Thomas and Alan Smith, at Anfield, on 26 May 1989. Part of an influx of fresh talent brought to Arsenal by George Graham in 1988, Smith had the benefit of a team well constructed to suit his needs. After 41 games of the 42-game 1988-89 season, Smith had 22 league goals to his name, nearly one third of his team’s total (71, the most in the division) that rather belied the “boring, boring” chants. Still, you can’t expect the lads on the terraces to have all the stats to hand. Their goals tally would of course be important, though, as they approached that final day and a trip to Anfield and to face Liverpool, going for the double after winning the FA Cup the previous week.

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The top two in the English top flight hadn’t faced each other in a “winner takes all” game since 1952, when Manchester United faced Arsenal. Then, the permutations were relatively simple: United simply needed to avoid defeat, but in the end won 6-1, and the Busby Babes had their first championship. This time it was a little more complicated: after Arsenal took just a point from games 39 and 40, at home to Derby and Wimbledon, Liverpool’s 5-1 win over West Ham meant the visitors needed to win by two clear goals. One-nil to the Arsenal would not cut it.

But, to get the second you have to get the first. Graham took a famously unusual approach to a game in which goals were required, abandoning the famous old back four in favour of a 5-4-1/3-5-2 formation, with David O’Leary as a third centre-back/sweeper between Tony Adams and Steve Bould, who flamboyantly wore the No.10 shirt.

It was something that had been in the works for a while, Graham testing the system out at Manchester United a few weeks earlier. The plan was to keep things tight until the break, as scoring two goals would be hard enough, never mind more should they concede early on.

Before the game, Graeme Souness had declared the “men” of Liverpool would be pitted against the “boys” of Arsenal, but as it turned out the elders were a little flummoxed by the whole situation. “If you know you have to avoid getting beaten by two clear goals, you don’t play your natural game,” Ray Houghton told FourFourTwo. “What do you do? Do you sit back?” Smith agrees that something appeared a little off with Kenny Dalglish’s side. “There was a feeling that they didn’t quite know how to approach the game,” he says now. “In that first half, they had one or two moments, but didn’t seem their old selves.” The aftermath of Hillsborough can’t be forgotten either: in the six weeks between the disaster and this game, the Liverpool players and management had attended countless funerals, plus were still dealing with the trauma of being there. Strain was inevitable.

The first 45 minutes went according to Arsenal’s plan, Graham’s primary instruction at the break being for his full-backs, Nigel Winterburn and Lee Dixon, to attack with a little more gusto. Seven minutes into the second-half, Ronnie Whelan was penalised for a high foot on David Rocastle, down the right around 35 yards from goal, and an indirect free-kick was awarded. The indirect free-kick, like nuance in political discussion and paying money for music, is one of those things that have been phased out of life these days, but the referee David Hutchinson’s arm pointed to the sky, clearly informing everyone that this was the case. Which presented a perfect opportunity for Arsenal to go through a well-practised routine: the big men trooped into the area, while Winterburn and Kevin Richardson stood over the ball.

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“We knew exactly what we were going to do, because we’d been through it so many times in training,” says Smith. “Nigel would swing it in, me, Bouldy and Tony would line up. I think Tony was supposed to peel round to the back, and me and Bouldy would make darting runs into the area.” Despite the numerous rehearsals, Arsenal had never previously managed to do it on the night. “We’d practised it so many times but it had never really come off in a match, so we wondered why we were doing it so much.”

For such a well-drilled routine, there was certainly some chaos to Adams’s run, seeming to follow the plan until he got level with the penalty spot, when he charged inside and fell to the turf. “Tony didn’t really do what he was supposed to,” says Smith. “He just flung himself at the ball and acted as a decoy, and I sneaked in.”



On ITV, Brian Moore produced some textbook Brian Moore. “Adams has made a darting little run in there,” he said, his trademark growl landing on the “darting”. Perhaps that put the Liverpool defenders off, as Smith was left relatively unmarked, on the edge of the six-yard box to get on the end of Winterburn’s perfect delivery. “Tony did his Superman bit,” says Smith, “and it might have confused things and given me an opportunity to get a run at it and get a free header.”

In the nearly 28 years since the goal was scored, the most frequent question Smith is asked is whether he touched the ball. The answer is always yes. “I think it was just that it didn’t change the direction of the ball, and I just helped it on its way,” he says. Not that everyone was convinced.

As the ball nestled in the net and the Arsenal players hared off to celebrate with the bundle in the away end, there was a pause, as if Liverpool couldn’t comprehend that Arsenal had scored. That second or so was denial, which morphed quickly into anger, as half the Liverpool team charged about the field, convinced that some form of offence had taken place. What offence that was … well, that was a little more unclear.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Alan Smith opens the scoring at Anfield. Photograph: Mercury/PA Archive/PA Images

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Arsenal players celebrate as Liverpool players surround the referee David Hutchinson. Photograph: Colorsport/Rex/Shutterstock

“I suppose their appeals had a desperation as much as anything,” says Smith. “Some didn’t think I’d touched it, some thought the linesman on the far side had raised his flag. It was nowhere near offside, and I never thought there was any doubt I got a touch on it.” But the protests continued. John Barnes, Peter Beardsley, Gary Ablett, Whelan, Steve Nicol and John Aldridge formed a semi-circle around referee Hutchinson, all making their case. Well, cases: offside, a foul, no touch from Smith. Take your pick.

“What were Liverpool’s players appealing for?” Hutchinson said a few years ago. “I don’t know! I think they were surprised that they had been caught out. They surrounded me and they wanted me to go and talk to my linesman. I thought the best way to avoid a mass confrontation was to do what they want.

“I spoke to Geoff [Banwell, the linesman], and I just asked him whether my arm was clearly raised after I gave the indirect free-kick. He said ‘Yes’. I said ‘Was it offside?’ – he said ‘No’. I said ‘Was it a foul?’ – he said ‘No’. I said ‘Is there any reason why it shouldn’t be a goal?’ He said ‘No’.” Hutchinson also said that years later, Houghton admitted they didn’t really know what they were protesting for but some Liverpool players (notably Ablett) seemed to think said linesman had put his flag up. Not so, according to the man himself.

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“The biggest falsehood is that I actually briefly raised my flag and that this was the cause of the protests,” Banwell said when interviewed in 2005 for the book ‘It’s Up For Grabs Now’. “I’ve no idea where this idea originated, but it simply isn’t true. Coming off the pitch after the game, I was anxious to find out if we’d called that goal correctly … I was already perfectly sure we’d got it right, but when it was confirmed it still took a huge weight off my mind.” Banwell, a policeman in his day job, was helped out by the incident a few months later, when he was called to a restaurant where some drunk patrons weren’t keen on paying their bill. One of them recognised Banwell, and the situation was diffused.

“There were a lot more of them than there were of us,” says Smith. “I think David O’Leary was our only spokesperson. They had a lot of vocal, strong characters, and they were right in the ear of the ref and the linesman, and when you’re looking at that scene you’re thinking ‘they’re going to disallow it here.’ I was quite shocked when the referee pointed to the spot, and probably most of the lads were too.”

And thus, the story of the most remarkable climax to an English league season was under way. The rest, you know. Steve McMahon yelling “ONE MINUTE” at his colleagues; Barnes turning inside instead of taking the ball to the corner; John Lukic rolling the ball out instead of kicking it; Dixon’s long pass; Smith’s delicate layoff; “Arsenal come streaming forwards in surely what will be their last attack … a good ball by Dixon, finding Smith … for Thomas … charging THROUGH THE MIDFIELD … IT’S UP FOR GRABS NOW … THOMAS! RIGHT AT THE END!”

But to get the second, you need to score the first. If you asked most casual fans who had scored Arsenal’s winner that night, almost all would know. They might not remember who got the opener, though. Not quite the forgotten goal, but certainly one overshadowed by another. Just like Mother Teresa. Sort of.

• This article was amended on 25 January 2018. An earlier version misspelled Geoff Banwell’s surname as Barnwell.

