Manchester United 4–1 Benfica: The Night Europe Turned Red
European Cup final | Wembley Stadium | 29 May 1968 | Attendance: 92,225 | Referee: Concetto Lo Bello
There are football matches that live in the memory because they were beautiful. There are matches that endure because they were improbable. Then there are matches that become part of a club's moral history, games in which the scoreline is only one layer of the story. Manchester United's 4–1 extra-time victory over Benfica at Wembley belongs in that last category.
On paper, it was a European Cup final decided by four United goals and one from Benfica. On the pitch, it was a test of nerve, invention and stamina between two heavyweight sides. In the stands and in the years around it, it was something larger: a public answer to the grief and disruption of Munich, and the fulfilment of the European dream that Matt Busby had carried for so long. Ten years after the Munich air disaster, Bill Foulkes and Bobby Charlton—two survivors who had remained at United—stood beneath the Wembley lights as champions of Europe.
The evening also had the drama that a great final demands. Charlton put United ahead in the 53rd minute. Benfica's Graça levelled in the 79th. Eusébio then found himself denied by Alex Stepney at the most dangerous moment of normal time. At 90 minutes, the final was still balanced at 1–1. In extra time, George Best, Brian Kidd and Charlton broke the deadlock, broke Benfica's resistance and turned a tense final into a piece of Manchester United folklore.
The final score was 4–1. The emotional score was harder to measure. It was a victory for the Busby way, for the survivors, for a generation raised on the promise that United could stand with the best clubs in Europe. Most of all, it was a night when the club did not merely win a trophy. It gave a decade of pain a conclusion that could be celebrated.
The historical stakes: ten years after Munich
A European Cup final always carries the weight of an entire season, but this one carried the weight of a decade. In February 1958, United's young, celebrated side had been devastated by the Munich air disaster. Players, staff and journalists lost their lives; survivors were left to live with injuries, grief and the knowledge of what the team might have become. Busby's rebuilding was not a simple sporting project. It was a way of preserving a vision while trying to carry the memory of those who had been taken.
By 1968, United had already won domestic honours under Busby, but the European Cup remained the great unfinished sentence. The club had been among the competition's pioneers, and the Munich side had been heading towards continental greatness. The 1968 campaign therefore asked a particularly cruel question: could the rebuilt team complete what the earlier generation had begun?
The answer came at Wembley, in front of 92,225 people. United became the first English club to win the European Cup. That fact matters in its own right, but it cannot be separated from the people who made it happen. Foulkes had been at the centre of the club's story before Munich and was still at the back of the team a decade later. Charlton, whose running and shooting would define the final, was another survivor and the symbolic attacking leader of the rebuilt side. Their medals did not erase the past. They gave the past a place in the club's triumph.
Busby was the manager, and his influence was visible in the final's mixture of caution and daring. United were not a side that needed to play one way for ninety minutes. They could defend with experience, counter through Best, and trust Charlton to arrive where the decisive moment required him. They could also improvise when circumstances demanded it. In the final, the missing Denis Law forced a change at centre-forward; the answer was not to abandon the plan but to reshape it.
Benfica were no sentimental opponent. Otto Glória's team brought the stature of a club accustomed to European nights and the extraordinary talent of Eusébio. Around him were players such as Torres, Graça, Coluna, Augusto, Simões and Henrique in goal. This was not a ceremonial occasion arranged for United's redemption. Benfica had the quality to win the trophy, and for long stretches they made the final feel like a contest that might turn on one touch.
That tension is essential to understanding the night. United were playing history, but they still had to play Benfica. Memory could inspire; it could not mark Eusébio, stop Graça or score a goal. The players had to make the meaning real in footballing terms.
The path to Wembley: surviving the European Cup's hardest nights
United's route to the final was not a smooth procession. The campaign demanded resilience before the team ever reached Wembley. The semi-final against Real Madrid supplied the defining example. Real carried the authority of the competition's holders and the aura of a club that had made European success feel like a tradition rather than an aspiration. United's first-leg advantage was narrow, and the return at the Bernabéu became an examination of whether Busby's team could survive the pressure.
At half-time in Madrid, the situation looked bleak. Real's momentum had put United in serious danger, and the task required more than simply defending a lead. Busby responded by pushing David Sadler into a more advanced role and asking the team to attack. It was a characteristically bold adjustment: the side had to find a route back into the tie rather than wait for relief.
Sadler scored to bring United level on aggregate. Then the impossible-looking rescue took another turn. George Best created the opening and Foulkes, a defender who seldom ventured so far forward, arrived to score the goal that sent United through. The late goals from Sadler and Foulkes were not just a ticket to Wembley; they were proof that this team could change a match when the structure it had started with was no longer enough.
That lesson travelled with United to the final. A European Cup campaign is an education in pressure. The players had already experienced the fear of letting a lead disappear, the need to keep believing in a difficult away leg and the value of a defender making an unexpected attacking contribution. They had learned that the decisive phase of a tie can belong to the team that remains composed after the plan has been disrupted.
The semi-final also sharpened the emotional connection between Foulkes and the occasion to come. His late goal in Madrid put him into the Wembley story as more than an experienced centre-half. He was one of the living links between the old United and the new. When he walked out against Benfica, he did so with a role in the present and a history that made every European minute feel charged.
None of that guaranteed victory. Benfica represented a different kind of problem: an opponent capable of absorbing pressure and then releasing Eusébio into space. United needed invention from Best, authority from Charlton, discipline from Stiles and Crerand, and reliable protection from Stepney. The route to Wembley had made one thing clear: the final would be won by the team that could survive its most vulnerable moments without losing its identity.
Team selection and the missing Law
The team sheet contained an obvious complication. Denis Law, one of United's great forwards, missed the final with a knee injury. His absence altered the geometry of the attack and deprived Busby of a player whose movement and finishing had been central to United's European ambitions. The response was David Sadler as a makeshift centre-forward, a selection that told us much about the side's flexibility.
The commonly cited United XI was: Alex Stepney; Shay Brennan, Tony Dunne, Paddy Crerand, Bill Foulkes, Nobby Stiles; George Best, Brian Kidd, Bobby Charlton, David Sadler, John Aston. It is a lineup full of contrast. There was the security of a seasoned defensive core, the controlled aggression of Stiles and Crerand, the acceleration and imagination of Best, and the long-range authority of Charlton. There was also Kidd, a teenager making the biggest appearance of his life, and Sadler being asked to perform a job that was not his usual one.
This was not a perfectly orthodox positional arrangement. That is part of its charm and part of its tactical intelligence. Sadler had already shown in the semi-final that he could change a tie when pushed forward. His selection at centre-forward gave United a way to connect midfield to attack without pretending that Law's absence did not matter. Rather than replace Law like for like, Busby trusted a collective solution.
The selection also allowed Best and Aston to threaten from wider areas, while Charlton could choose his moments to move beyond the first line of pressure. Kidd's energy offered a different kind of attacking threat. He was not burdened with reproducing Law's style; he could run, compete and occupy Benfica's defenders. The final would eventually reveal how important that freshness became in extra time.
At the back, Foulkes and Dunne had to deal with Torres, whose physical presence could make every cross a crisis. Stiles and Crerand had to protect the spaces in front of them while also helping United launch attacks. Stepney's role was more than that of a goalkeeper waiting for routine saves. Benfica's danger lay in the suddenness of the counter, and Eusébio could turn a half-chance into a defining moment.
A lineup like this can be read as a collection of compromises, but that undersells it. It was a lineup built around the players available and the qualities they could combine. Busby did not ask United to become a different team because Law was injured. He asked the team to use its intelligence, movement and courage. The result was a final that became more fluid as it grew older, with improvised roles becoming assets rather than weaknesses.
A first half of patience, pressure and promise
The opening half was a study in competing instincts. United had the occasion, the home crowd and the emotional momentum, but Benfica had the experience and the individual brilliance to punish any reckless commitment. The final could not be won by sentiment. United had to play the next pass, defend the next attack and keep their concentration when the match refused to open up.
Charlton was a natural focal point for United's ambitions. His movement offered a route out of pressure, and his ability to strike or arrive in the box meant Benfica could not treat him as merely a midfielder. Best, meanwhile, brought the element that no defensive plan can fully domesticate: acceleration with the ball, the capacity to beat a man, and the ability to make a final suddenly look different from the one that existed seconds earlier.
Benfica's shape and discipline kept the game tight. Coluna's presence gave them control and calm, while Simões and Augusto could support their attack. Eusébio did not need a dozen openings. His reputation was based on what happened when a defence gave him one. United's back line therefore had to remain connected, with Stiles and Crerand ready to contest second balls and close the route into the danger zone.
The absence of a first-half goal did not mean nothing was happening. A final can be tense precisely because every attack is being evaluated as a potential turning point. United had to balance the need to create with the danger of leaving Benfica an open field. Sadler's presence at centre-forward helped the side play through the middle, but it also meant that the forwards had to rotate and make their own solutions. This was a collective attack rather than a series of fixed positions.
The longer the half remained scoreless, the more the pressure changed character. The crowd wanted a breakthrough, but the players could not allow that desire to turn into haste. The first half was shaped by the work done before the goals arrived. United were laying the foundations for a second-half contest in which one clean delivery, one run or one error could decide everything.
For Benfica, the goalless interval was evidence that the match was within their control. For United, it was a chance to reset. Busby's team had not been blown away, and the attacking pieces were still available. Charlton's authority, Best's unpredictability and the willingness of players to move beyond their starting positions offered reasons for belief. The final was waiting for its first incision.
Second half: the final begins to open
Charlton opens the door: United lead in the 53rd minute
The breakthrough came in the 53rd minute, and it came from Charlton. That fact carries tactical and emotional weight. When a final asks for a leader, Bobby Charlton repeatedly answered. His goal put United 1–0 up, but it also changed the psychological terms of the match. Benfica were no longer able simply to manage the occasion; they had to respond to a deficit.
United's lead did not make the game safe. Against Benfica, and with Eusébio on the pitch, one goal was never a guarantee. It did, however, validate the patience of the first half. The side had resisted the temptation to force the issue and remained ready when the opening appeared. Charlton's finish was the visible reward for a team that had kept its shape while looking for a moment of quality.
The goal also gave United a platform for their best defensive habit: making the opponent play through layers. Stiles and Crerand could contest the central spaces; Foulkes and Dunne could attack aerial balls; Brennan and Aston could help narrow the routes to goal. Best remained a counterattacking threat, meaning Benfica could not send every player forward without consequence.
Yet a lead in a European Cup final can produce its own danger. The team ahead may start to protect the score too early, inviting pressure and turning every clearance into another Benfica attack. United needed to defend intelligently, not passively. The match demanded concentration because Benfica's quality was too high for a one-dimensional response.
Charlton's goal was also a reminder of how United's attack did not depend on a conventional centre-forward. With Sadler operating as a makeshift focal point, the danger could arrive from a player starting deeper. That unpredictability mattered. Benfica had to account for movement, not just mark one target. The attack was less about a fixed reference point and more about timing: who stepped forward, who pulled away, and who arrived late.
For a while, United's lead looked capable of carrying them home. But the final had not reached its decisive passage. Benfica had too much experience, and too much attacking talent, to accept the scoreline. The response would test whether United could maintain the discipline that had earned the advantage.
Graça equalises, and the final turns on a knife edge
Benfica levelled through Graça in the 79th minute. The goal made it 1–1 and reopened every question. United's hard-earned lead was gone. Benfica now had the momentum of an equaliser, while United had to decide whether to chase a winner in normal time or protect themselves against the possibility of defeat.
This is where the final becomes such a valuable study in pressure football. A scoreline can flatten the story: Charlton 53, Graça 79. But the meaning of those goals is different. Charlton's goal had rewarded patience and given United control; Graça's had shown that control could vanish in an instant. The match was no longer about whether United deserved to lead. It was about who could manage the final minutes without panic.
United's response had to be both emotional and tactical. The players were within touching distance of the European Cup, but the equaliser meant they could not play as though the trophy belonged to them already. Benfica's attack remained dangerous, and Eusébio was exactly the kind of forward who could punish a side that lost its defensive distances while mourning a conceded goal.
The most important thing United retained was belief in the collective. Best could still carry the ball away from pressure. Charlton could still threaten. Kidd and Aston could still run. At the other end, Foulkes and Dunne needed to keep their attention on Benfica's movement rather than the scoreboard. The match had become less a contest of plans than a contest of composure.
The equaliser also amplified the final's historical tension. A Wembley crowd hoping to see a crowning moment now had to watch United walk through another passage of uncertainty. The emotional narrative could not be allowed to dictate the football. The team had to keep playing the opponent in front of them, not the ten years behind them.
Normal time was running out. The European Cup was still available, but the way to it was becoming narrower. One moment would define the end of the ninety minutes, and that moment would belong to Stepney and Eusébio.
Stepney versus Eusébio: the save that kept the dream alive
Late in normal time, Eusébio broke through with the kind of chance that can be remembered as a goal even when it is not one. Stepney denied him. The goalkeeper's save prevented Benfica from taking the lead at the most damaging possible moment and kept the score at 1–1.
It is tempting to describe a save like that as fate, but the footballing reality is more instructive. Stepney had to remain set, read the danger and react under extreme pressure. Eusébio was not merely another attacker; he was Benfica's great finisher and one of the defining players of the era. When he got the chance, the final seemed to tilt towards him. Stepney's intervention stopped that tilt.
Goalkeeping in a final is often judged by the spectacular moment, but the save also represented the defensive work around it. United's back line had been asked to survive Benfica's movement for nearly the whole evening. Foulkes, Dunne, Stiles and Crerand had to make the field as difficult as possible without assuming they could eliminate every opening. Eventually one appeared. Stepney was the last answer.
The save changed the emotional temperature inside Wembley. Had Eusébio scored, United would have been chasing Benfica in the final moments of normal time, with the trauma of conceding a late winner compounded by the stakes of the occasion. Instead, United lived to fight in extra time. The trophy was still balanced, and the team still had its chance to impose its attacking quality.
Stepney's moment also belongs beside the famous goals because great finals are won through prevention as well as creation. Charlton, Best and Kidd would become the names on the scoresheet, but Stepney's denial was a prerequisite for the extra-time explosion. Without it, there is no 4–1 story—only a different ending.
At 90 minutes the score was 1–1. The final had survived its first conclusion and entered the territory where fatigue magnifies every decision. United had been tested by Benfica's equaliser and by Eusébio's chance. They had answered by staying alive. Now they needed to find the energy and clarity to win.
Extra time: the explosion from 1–1 to 4–1
Extra time began with neither side able to hide. The accumulated work of ninety minutes had made every run more expensive, every recovery more urgent and every loose touch more dangerous. But extra time also gave United's best attackers the space to turn a tense final into history.
The first blow came from George Best in the 92nd minute. Best's goal made it 2–1, and the nature of the moment mattered as much as the number. He had spent the evening as Benfica's most obvious problem, capable of taking possession and transforming it into forward momentum. In extra time, that threat finally produced the separation United needed.
Best's goal did not simply reward individual brilliance. It was the product of a final in which Benfica had been forced to defend movement and risk. The first extra-time goal stretched the game emotionally and tactically. United had the lead again, but now Benfica had to open themselves further if they were to recover. The very act of chasing the equaliser could create the spaces United's attackers wanted.
Two minutes later, in the 94th minute, Brian Kidd scored. United were 3–1 up, and Kidd's goal was one of the great details of the entire night: he scored on his 19th birthday. That coincidence might sound like a piece of football romance invented after the fact, but it was real, and it made his contribution even more unforgettable. The teenager had been selected to help compensate for Law's absence; in extra time, he became a European Cup final goalscorer.
Kidd's goal also captured the collective character of the team selection. Busby had not replaced Law with a single mirror image. He had trusted the squad's range of qualities. Kidd's energy had meaning while the game was level; in extra time, it became a decisive attacking force. His goal turned a narrow lead into a commanding one and pushed Benfica towards the edge of collapse.
Charlton then completed the scoring in the 99th minute. His second goal made it 4–1, and with it the final acquired the margin that memory has carried ever since. Charlton had opened the scoring in the 53rd minute and finished the extra-time sequence with United's fourth. The captain-like figure and Munich survivor was present at the beginning and end of the decisive passage.
The order of the goals tells its own story. Best supplied the individual spark. Kidd followed with youthful energy and the fearless timing of a player embracing the biggest night of his life. Charlton delivered the final statement, adding authority to an explosion that had begun only moments earlier. In seven extra-time minutes, United moved from vulnerability to dominance.
It would be wrong to treat the 4–1 score as evidence that Benfica had been outclassed for the entire match. At 90 minutes, the final was 1–1. Stepney had needed to deny Eusébio. Graça had equalised late. The margin was created by United's response to the demands of extra time, not by a comfortable performance from the opening whistle. That is exactly why the result feels so powerful: the team earned the right to explode by refusing to lose its nerve when the game was most uncertain.
How United won it: an analyst's view
The final can be understood through four connected strengths. First was adaptability. Law's knee injury meant the attack had to be reorganised, and Sadler's role as a makeshift centre-forward gave United a flexible route into the game. The side did not allow the absence of a star to dictate its identity.
Second was the balance between invention and structure. Best was given room to express himself, but United still had Stiles, Crerand and the experienced defenders behind the ball. That balance mattered against Benfica because an attack-first performance without defensive control would have invited Eusébio and Torres to settle the final before United could use their own strengths.
Third was the contribution of players in different phases. Charlton supplied two goals. Best and Kidd scored in extra time. Stepney made the save that prevented a losing position. Foulkes and the back line endured the pressure that made the attack's late burst possible. A final of this magnitude was not won by one hero acting alone.
Fourth was psychological endurance. United had to handle the historical pressure of Munich, the status of Benfica, the burden of being favourites in front of a home crowd, the loss of a lead and the sight of Eusébio bearing down on goal. The decisive response came after those tests. The side remained sufficiently calm to take extra time as an opportunity rather than a punishment.
Tactically, the result also illustrates the value of changing the point of attack. United could threaten through Best's dribbling, through Charlton's movement and strike, through Kidd's running and through the forward thrusts of players who did not begin the game as conventional attackers. Benfica could not reduce the contest to stopping one channel.
The final's famous scoreline therefore rests on a credible footballing foundation. The romance is immense, but it is not empty. United won because they combined a goalkeeper's defining intervention, a defence capable of surviving the opponent's best forward, midfield discipline, flexible selection and attacking quality that became devastating when Benfica were stretched.
The aftermath: Busby lifts the European Cup
When the final whistle came, Manchester United were European champions. Busby lifted the European Cup at Wembley, and the image became one of the club's defining photographs. The trophy represented the end of a long pursuit, but it also captured the relationship between manager and club. Busby's European vision had survived disaster, rebuilding and the pressure of a final that refused to be settled in normal time.
For Charlton and Foulkes, the victory had a particular gravity. They were Munich survivors, and they had remained to see the club through the years that followed. Their medals could not be treated as a simple sporting reward. The victory acknowledged the team that had been lost, the people who had been lost and the club's refusal to let that loss end its ambition.
The players who were younger in 1968 also inherited a responsibility and a memory. Best was already a star, but the final confirmed his capacity to shape the biggest matches. Kidd's birthday goal placed him permanently in United's European story. Stepney's save gave the team the chance to write that story. Sadler's improvised role showed the value of a squad willing to accept tactical sacrifice.
Benfica's presence made the achievement more substantial. This was not a final against an overmatched opponent. Benfica had Eusébio and a supporting cast of high-level internationals and European performers. United had to win a real contest against a team capable of equalising and coming within a save of taking the lead. The 4–1 margin came only after extra time, which is another way of saying the trophy was secured through endurance.
The victory also changed the place of United in English football. The club became the first English side to win the European Cup, converting a national ambition into continental proof. English clubs had been knocking at the door of the competition's highest stage; United opened it. The achievement would be cited by later generations as a foundation for the European expectations that became part of the club's identity.
Even the celebration carried a trace of relief. The final had been emotionally loaded before kick-off and brutally uncertain after Graça's equaliser. The extra-time goals released that pressure all at once. United's players were not simply celebrating a comfortable win; they were celebrating survival, fulfilment and the knowledge that this particular opportunity would not be lost.
Legacy: why this is more than a famous scoreline
A classic match can be reduced by repetition. People remember the score, the scorers and the trophy, then lose the texture between those facts. United 4–1 Benfica should resist that reduction. Its significance lies in the sequence: a patient first half, Charlton's opening goal, Graça's equaliser, Stepney's save, and an extraordinary extra-time surge.
The match remains a lesson in how football and memory interact. The historical stakes did not make United immune to danger. In fact, they may have made every danger feel more severe. The team had to separate the emotional meaning of the occasion from the practical demands of each passage. That is why the final is so often remembered as a triumph of character as well as ability.
It is also a lesson in the value of a squad's secondary solutions. Law was missing, yet United found a way to build an attack. Sadler was asked to play out of position. Kidd, celebrating his 19th birthday on the day of the final, made the difference in extra time. The final's architecture was not perfect in the conventional sense; it was responsive, brave and suited to the players Busby had available.
The match gave Foulkes and Charlton a conclusion worthy of their service. That does not mean the past was neatly repaired. Football cannot repair a disaster. It can, however, create a moment in which remembrance, achievement and collective identity coexist. Wembley became that moment for United.
The final also established a template for future European nights: do not confuse adversity with defeat; trust the players who can change the game; and remain alive until the final whistle. United were not at their best in every minute, and Benfica were never mere extras in a ceremonial story. The victory had to be fought for, and its drama came from the possibility that it might be lost.
For supporters, the scoreline is an invitation to revisit rather than a conclusion. Watch Charlton's goals and see the range of his influence. Watch Best's extra-time strike and consider how quickly a single player can change the geometry of a final. Remember Kidd's birthday and Stepney's denial. Then place each moment back inside the larger history of Munich and Busby's project. The result becomes richer every time.
Why it still matters in 2026
In 2026, football is faster, more global and more saturated with footage than it was in 1968. Supporters can compare eras, inspect tactics frame by frame and watch countless finals on demand. That abundance has not diminished this match. If anything, it clarifies why it remains so important. United 4–1 Benfica is not famous merely because it was old or because it was the club's first European Cup. It still speaks to questions that every football generation recognises.
What do you do when the player you expected to lead the line is unavailable? United adapted to Law's knee injury. What do you do when the opponent equalises late? United did not fold after Graça's 79th-minute goal. What do you do when the best forward on the other team gets the chance to win it? Stepney saves. What do you do when extra time begins with the trophy still uncertain? You attack with conviction, and Best, Kidd and Charlton turn possibility into certainty.
Modern supporters also understand the pressure of expectation. United's later European history means every continental tie is measured against earlier nights. The Wembley final is one of the original reference points. It is where the club's international identity became tangible: not an ambition, not a near miss, but a trophy held aloft after beating one of Europe's strongest sides.
The human story remains just as relevant. Clubs are not only collections of tactics and transfer fees; they are institutions that remember. The distance between 1958 and 1968 was filled with rebuilding, mourning and work. Foulkes and Charlton showed what it meant to carry a club's history while still competing in its present. Their victory reminds modern teams that legacy is not a museum display. It is something players add to under pressure.
There is also a warning in the match for anyone who reads only the final score. A 4–1 result can suggest a straightforward win. The reality was 1–1 after 90 minutes, with Benfica threatening to take control. The lesson is not that United always overwhelmed adversity. The lesson is that they managed the decisive moments better. That is a more useful standard for any era.
For MUFC Hub readers, this is why the game belongs in the club's classic-games canon. It combines tactical improvisation, elite individual talent, a goalkeeper's defining save, a teenager's birthday goal, two Munich survivors and the first English European Cup. It is football history, but it is also an argument about what Manchester United can be when its greatest values—courage, imagination, resilience and responsibility—meet on one pitch.
Final verdict: the European dream fulfilled
Manchester United 4–1 Benfica was not simply the night United won in extra time. It was the night a club's long European pursuit reached its emotional destination. Charlton scored in the 53rd minute; Graça answered in the 79th; Stepney denied Eusébio when defeat threatened; Best, Kidd and Charlton then transformed extra time into a red avalanche.
Busby had built a side capable of surviving the past and competing in the present. Foulkes and Charlton, survivors of Munich, were there when the European Cup finally came to United. Law's absence forced a reshuffle, but Sadler's makeshift centre-forward role helped reveal the team's adaptability. Benfica supplied the quality and danger worthy of a final. United supplied the response.
At 1–1, the story was still open. By the time Charlton scored his second in the 99th minute, it had become legend. The trophy, the first European Cup won by an English club, belonged to Manchester United. The match still matters because it shows that history is not carried by symbolism alone. It is carried by the save, the run, the adjustment, the finish and the courage to keep playing when the past is watching.
Relive this final alongside the club's other landmark triumphs on the MUFC Hub trophies page.
GAMES_ALREADY_COVERED entry suggestion: `benfica-1968-european-cup-final` — Manchester United 4–1 Benfica (a.e.t.), European Cup Final, Wembley, 29 May 1968.
