'Although all of us were, to various degrees, affected by tiredness during the 1968 European Cup final, we were still quite pleased by the prospect of extra time. When you looked at Benfica, you could see that they were close to their limits of endurance - probably nearer to theirs than we were to ours.
'"Look, they've gone, they're knackered," Wilf McGuinness said. I heard him telling Nobby Stiles, who had run endlessly in his effort to contain Eusébio: "Come on, Nob, another half an hour and you're home."
'The Old Man was keen that we did not sprawl on the pitch during our respite. I remembered Alf Ramsey making a similar point after Wolfgang Weber had forced England into extra time two summers previously. "Come on," Alf said. "You've got to get to your feet now. If they see you getting up before you need to, they will think you're all right."
'Now, looking over to Benfica, it was easy to remember Alf's point. The Portuguese were down and just about out. Two minutes into extra time, our weary legs found new energy and our optimism was confirmed. Alex Stepney kicked downfield and, as Fernando Cruz, the Benfica centre back, struggled to control the ball, George Best was on him and carrying it away, free and closing on José Henrique's goal. As he dribbled the ball around the goalkeeper, I shouted: "Knock it in, knock it in!" Eventually, in a second that seemed like an eternity, George sent the ball towards the net. Henrique struggled and he could not get there in time. George had done it.
'"That has to be it," I thought. I could not see them coming back, not after Brian Kidd scored a minute after George. I could not see the fans out there in the dark, but I could hear them. I had to hold back the tears that would make my eyes sting when I thought about what this meant.
'Then, when I scored again with 21 minutes to go, we really began to believe that the game was over. It was a beautiful feeling. It was triumph and deliverance all wrapped into one, but the deepest emotion would take a little time to well up. For the moment, we still had to drag our bodies around and forget how much had been drained from us this night.
'When the final whistle went, my strongest sensation was worry for the Old Man. He had been through so much and this was the pinnacle of his football life. For days he had been reminded of the meaning of the game, the legacy of Munich and how his boys had died in pursuit of this trophy.
'Eventually, he got to his players and hugged them. I cannot tell you precisely my feelings at that moment. I do recall what it meant to embrace teammates like Bill Foulkes, Nobby Stiles and Shay Brennan, who had been involved in this quest for so long - and maybe especially Bill because, like me, he had been on the snowy airfield and seen Matt Busby down and his team, our friends, destroyed. I know there was an understanding that something was over, something that had dominated our lives for so long.'