Chaos, Crowds and a White Horse: The Story of the 1923 FA Cup Final

Who is the most famous Billy in football? Billy Wright, the first player to earn 100 caps for England? Billy Bremner, whose bite and fire defined Don Revie's great Leeds side? Or Billy Liddle, the Liverpool legend whose career spanned four decades? 

But what if football's most famous Billy wasn’t a player at all? What if he isn't even a human? 

Billy the horse, totemic hero of the 1923 FA Cup underneath PC George Scorey, certainly has a serious claim to be the most iconic Billy in football's history. 

A New Stadium, a New Chapter for Football

Football had a crucial role in Britain’s recovery from the horrors of World War I. Life was incredibly tough up and down the country but especially in the working-class parts of towns and cities where football thrived.

If a typical weekend trip provided a welcome escape from the grind, one can only imagine the fervour that surrounded the news that the FA Cup Final would be held at the new national stadium.

The FA Cup Final, already a national event, had a new home and football fans from across the country wanted to experience this new chapter of history in person.

Sir James Stevenson, the man in charge of the project to build the Empire Stadium at Wembley understood the importance of a totemic home of football in the post-war context. He helped to make sure that everything was thrown at Wembley, with McAlpine completing the build in just over 300 days.

Such was the rush to complete the stadium in time for the 1923 FA Cup Final that debris was still being cleared away from the site just days before the match between Bolton Wanderers and West Ham United.

Impressive as the fast build was, it left a host of issues including a ticketing system that was little more than rudimentary. 

The combination of poor infrastructure and an unquenchable, deep-rooted passion for football turned out to be a recipe for disaster.

When 125,000 Seats Weren’t Enough

Fans from across the country took advantage of the plentiful trains that were laid on to converge on North West London. The streets around Wembley started to clog up hours before kick-off as fans continued to pour out from the tube and it quickly became evident that the official capacity of 125,000 would be far exceeded.

Just as quickly it became clear that the infrastructure at the Empire Stadium could not stand up to the crowds.

Many fans turned up without tickets, seemingly believing that they could enter at will. Some broke through the limp barriers and restrictions and there were even reports of fans being helped in by obliging stewards. 

The arrivals were so large for so long that by the time the two teams turned up they had to force their way through fans just to get to the changing rooms.

At this point, it’s important to point out that this was a million miles from the sort of disorder we saw at Wembley Stadium before the Euro 2020 Final. There was no hostility, no anger or aggression. This was a national celebration of football but that only made the situation slightly better for the authorities.

The numbers inside the Empire Stadium – which some estimates put as high as 250,000 – were such that fans sat around the pitch. That was the final sign, if any more was needed: without drastic action, there would be no game. 

The Calm in the Chaos

With half an hour to go before kick-off the numbers of fans around the pitch were such that it was impossible to even see the touchlines. Although extra police had already been called in at this time the decision was made to call in mounted police.

Among that number was PC George Scorey, an ex-cavalryman from the Great War, on top of his grey horse, Billy.

Along with the other horses drafted in, Billy’s job was to help clear the crowds from the touchline, not with force, but with patience and presence. That wasn’t a case of charging at the fans and forcing them to move, rather the horses had to maintain their calm and guide people back behind the lines.

As Scorey put it, Billy simply “worked his way quietly about and the crowd made way for him.”

Other horses and police officers did a similarly sterling job of preventing a disaster and ensuring the match could go ahead. But it was Billy, who stood out as a symbol of brightness against the dark of the crowd – especially in the newsreel footage – who became the star of the show.

It took the mounted police around an hour to push people back away from the pitch. Their diligent and difficult work had saved the day. 

The 1923 FA Cup Final could go ahead.

The Day Wembley Became a Legend

Billy had gone from a part of the mounted division to a legend within Wembley in that hour that he went about his work. It didn’t take much longer for that legend to spread and for Billy to become a national hero.

Understandably, the events leading up to the match were the main story. Reports of a 2-0 win for Bolton Wanderers played second fiddle to the news of the white horse who saved the day.

Today, we remember the 1923 FA Cup Final as the story of Billy and Scorey’s triumph but things could have easily have ended in tragedy.

The Football Association launched an investigation into the events and didn’t shy away from their role in underestimating demand for the match but many more recommendations were made.

All-ticket matches started to become the norm for major sporting events; physical and staffing changes were swiftly made at Wembley and other stadia; and, crowd control became a vital part of the policing of football matches.

Those are just the technical details, however. The image, exaggerated and re-told over the years, of Billy the magnificent horse saving an FA Cup Final was the real legacy of the events of 28 April, 1923.

Billy, the crowds, the excitement, they all added to the folklore of Wembley as the national home of football.

With all due respect to Messrs Wright, Bremner and Liddle. That is the story of how a horse became the most famous Billy in football.

A century on, Billy’s quiet heroism still stands as a symbol of football's power to bring people together — in joy, in chaos, and sometimes, against all odds, in triumph.