Final ambitions still rankle as Davies trails Motty 5-1

The most versatile and urbane of commentators claims contentment but is irked by an injustice as he prepares for his 10th World Cup

If football commentators were meals, then the unsubtle Jonathan Pearce would be eggs, sausage and beans at a Little Chef, and the urbane Barry Davies would be afternoon tea at the Savoy.

Fittingly, therefore, it is at the Savoy, over a pot of tea and some delicate cream fancies, that Davies and I chat. I have known him for a few years now. He is a good-natured man, unfailingly charming, but a feeble self-publicist, who has watched with quiet, wry amusement, and the odd stab of indignation, the growth of the cult of Motty.

Last week, the BBC announced that John Motson, not Barry Davies, would be commentating on the 2002 World Cup Final. Davies received the news in characteristically sanguine fashion, even though it would have been nice to go all the way in what, remarkably, will be his 10th World Cup in the commentary box.

"I'm a pretty happy lad," he says, when I ask whether he was miffed not to be handed the World Cup Final, or for that matter any of England's group matches. "I'm a grandfather now; Emily was born last month. I have two kids who are very successful in what they do. I will have been married for 34 years next month. So in the whole scheme of things it is not the end of the world."

But?

"But, I have to say that I do not believe that even Motty's greatest fan would think that an FA Cup final score of 23-2 in his favour, and a World Cup final score of 5-1, is entirely fair to me. That irks."

Motty v Davies. The media play it up, but it is true that most armchair fans express a strong preference for one or the other. For some, indeed, the issue of which commentator is scarcely less emotive than the issue of which team, and the debate can get complicated when you introduce ITV's top man, the excellent Clive Tyldesley, and Sky's Martin Tyler.

Of the BBC duo, one observer recently suggested that it boils down to whether you prefer statistics (Motty) or adjectives (Davies). We agree, Davies and I, that such an over-simplification is fair to neither of them.

That said, I'm more an adjectives man myself. Moreover, when I think of the most evocative snatches of commentary from my life as a football enthusiast, they are mostly Davies utterances, from "it's Tommy Smith!" when the veteran defender scored in the 1977 European Cup final, to "you have to say that's magnificent!" when Maradona conjured his second against England in the 1986 World Cup.

Besides, no other still-match-fit TV football commentator spans 36 years of World Cups, as Davies does. So some gentle nostalgia – in stark contrast to the pink pastry thing on the cake-stand in front of us – does not seem overly indulgent.

"In 1966," recalls Davies, "I was working for ITV. I did Russia, Chile, Italy and North Korea, so I was there when Pak-do-ik scored the goal that put out Italy. Then in 1969 I transferred to the BBC, and I had the first live match in the 1970 World Cup, Italy against Uruguay. It was 0-0, anathema to television, particularly then. As [head of BBC Sport] Brian Cowgill put it, there's never been a 0-0 that wouldn't have been improved by a goal.

"By 1970 the slow-motion replay was established. We had it in 1966 but it was a very new toy then, liable to go into a world of its own. The BBC's commentary team in 1970 was David Coleman, Ken Wolstenholme, Alan Weeks, Idwal Robling and me. Idwal Robling was a man who had won a competition to be part of the BBC commentary team in Mexico, an idea dreamt up by Coleman on Sportsnight, who was reflecting on being criticised and thought 'I'll show them it's not as easy as they think'."

"Idwal Robling beat Ian St John in the final, on the casting vote of Alf Ramsay, who, it was said, had never voted for a Scotsman in his life. I think he did a couple of recorded matches for us. ITV rather unkindly called him Awol Ribling."

The technology was still ropey enough in 1970 for Davies to cover one match with Wolstenholme's commentary on a simultaneous match in his earpiece throughout. None the less, he does not think that all aspects of TV commentary have improved.

"I would like there to be far less talking," he says. "Radio and television have become interwoven, but from a commentary point of view, they are very different. If you and I sit watching a match together, and for the first 10 minutes we are constantly talking, one of us will eventually say 'oh, shut up for a moment'."

In 1974, in the absence of England, Davies benefited from a misguided executive decision. Once the opening phase was over, the BBC opted to train its biggest gun, Coleman, on Brazil. "But the real story was Holland, so I did a lot of Holland, who were undoubtedly the team of the tournament. And they lost it, not because of football, but because of history. I totally believe that after they had scored in the first minute, the Dutch, who'd been overrun by the Germans during the war, just wanted to push German noses into the mud. They all wanted to be at the party. But they should have made sure of the second goal before turning on the style."

In 1974, and again in 1978, Davies got no further than the quarter-finals. But in 1982 he covered his first World Cup semi-final, the belter between France and West Germany, featuring Harald Schumacher's nuclear attack on Patrick Battiston. "The villain being not only Schumacher," says Davies, "but also the Dutch referee, who was appalling. I look back at the penalties, and Schumacher moved on every one." It was the first time at such a late stage of the World Cup that a penalty shoot-out had determined the outcome. And in 1998 Davies was again at the microphone when history was made, commentating on the World Cup's first golden goal, by Laurent Blanc for France against Paraguay.

Does he agree with the golden goal concept? "Well, like penalties, it's great television drama. And you have to end it somehow. But somebody wrote to me the other day and suggested, in the event of a draw, a penalty competition at the end of 90 minutes. To the winners it would be worth half a goal, and they would then play extra-time, so there would be an opportunity to make up for losing the penalties.

"It's not such a bad idea. At least each team would have something to attack or defend, rather than, as so often happens in extra-time, one team playing for the penalties."

Food for thought, but let's get back to Mexico 1986, the scene of his greatest World Cup embarrassment, when he failed to spot Maradona's despicable handball. "I was very unhappy I missed that. I was miles up. But I didn't know what the protest was about, and mistakenly I threw in the possibility of offside. I then saw someone gesturing to the arm, and said 'they think it was handball', by which time the nation was saying 'well done, Davies, you've caught up'."

We'll forgive him, not least for giving eloquent voice to our relief in England's 1990 nail-biter against Cameroon. Then, in 1994, came the nod he had been waiting for; after the quarter-finals, he learnt that the powers that Beeb wanted him for the final.

"Unfortunately it was a poor match, with no rhythm," he says, of the Brazil v Italy stalemate. "And I maybe did more preparation than I should have. I made the same mistake when I did my first FA Cup Final, between Everton and Manchester United (in 1995). I went over-prepared, which isn't my style. I do better commentaries if I go to the match thinking 'I should have checked on that'."

Chance, in some cases, would be a fine thing. At the time of our encounter, Davies, who will be in Gwangiu on 4 June for China v Costa Rica, has yet to be supplied with video coverage of either side. "It looks as if I might be doing that one blind," he says. "So (the Costa Rican, Paolo) Wanchope is liable to have an awfully good first five minutes." A chuckle.

"At the moment I'm doing 11 matches, seven of them live, involving 19 teams, in two countries. But I don't think I'll get a live England game, because if they get through I'll be in the wrong country. They'll have to reach the quarter-finals for me to have a chance . . ."

His regret is palpable; his ambition, even at this late stage of a distinguished career, admirable. "I was desperately disappointed not to do the (Queen Mum's) funeral," he says. "I would love to do a Cenotaph. But it is difficult when you do sport to persuade people that you know about other things."

Still, CLR James's famous aphorism comes to mind: "what know they of cricket who only cricket know?" Davies's impressive versatility (hockey, ice-skating, tennis, athletics, the Lord Mayor's Show) serves him well in the football commentary box. As does the historical perspective he is able to offer. On that subject, which, of all the players he has commentated on, would feature in his all-time World Cup XI.

He groans (although, in fairness, I have given him several hours notice of the question). "It's a nonsense." A heavy sigh. "I would have to have an English goalkeeper, Banks over Shilton, but that leaves out Yashin, Schmeichel, Zoff, Maier, David Seaman . . .

"At right-back I would have Carlos Alberto, which rules out Thuram, and at left-back Maldini, but at his peak, not now. Can I stress that this is 11 of the most gifted players I have seen; I can't vouch for its chemistry. So I would play a 4-3-3, with Moore and Beckenbauer together, and in midfield, Platini, Clodoaldo, who was an integral part of the 1970 Brazil team and might win the ball for me, and Tostao."

Another groan. "But that rules out Bobby Charlton, Neeskens, Netzer, Hoddle, Zidane . . . this really is a nonsense. And up front, do you play Pele and Maradona together, or do you want Gerd Muller to put the ball in the net? I suppose I would have Pele, Maradona and Cruyff. But if I get free-kicks, can I bring on Beckham?"

With pleasure. Let's just hope he's fit.