Football isn't supposed to work like this. Usually, the big teams with the massive bank accounts and the shiny stadiums win everything, while the rest just sort of exist to fill the schedule. But then you watch the I Believe in Miracles movie and you realize that for a brief, chaotic window in the late 1970s, the rules of reality just... broke.
Directed by Jonny Owen, this isn't your typical dry sports documentary filled with talking heads sitting in front of gray backgrounds. It’s a loud, funk-fueled, high-octane explosion of 1970s nostalgia that chronicles how Brian Clough took a struggling, second-division Nottingham Forest side and turned them into the kings of Europe. Twice. Back-to-back. Honestly, if you wrote this as a fictional screenplay, an editor would probably throw it back at you for being too unrealistic.
The Man, The Myth, and the Green Tracksuit
At the heart of everything is Brian Clough. If you're a younger fan used to the polished, PR-managed managers of today, Clough will come as a massive shock to the system. He was arrogant. He was hilarious. He was frequently terrifying. Most importantly, he was a genius who saw things other people missed.
When Clough arrived at the City Ground in 1975, Forest was a "nothing" club. They were languishing in the bottom half of the Second Division. People forget that. They weren't some sleeping giant; they were just sleeping. Along with his "good cop" assistant Peter Taylor, Clough didn't just buy better players; he changed the way the players saw themselves.
The I Believe in Miracles movie does a brilliant job of showing that Clough’s tactics weren't actually about complex diagrams or "inverted wing-backs." He kept it simple. He told his players they were the best, and eventually, they started to believe him. He’d take them on drinking sessions before cup finals to "relax the nerves." He’d make them walk through bushes to toughen them up. It was madness, but it was madness with a very specific, winning purpose.
More Than Just a Highlight Reel
What really sets this film apart is the soundtrack and the pacing. It’s cut to the beat of "I Believe in Miracles" by the Jackson Sisters, and that soulful, upbeat energy carries through the whole 104 minutes. You aren't just watching goals; you're watching a cultural shift in the East Midlands.
Owen manages to get almost all the key players on camera. You’ve got John Robertson—who Clough famously called a "little fat lad" but who was arguably the best winger in the world at the time—recounting stories with a dry, self-deprecating wit. You see Larry Lloyd, Kenny Burns, and the legendary Peter Shilton. These guys weren't pampered superstars. They were hard-nosed professionals who would go for a pint at the local pub after winning the European Cup.
Why the I Believe in Miracles Movie Matters Now
In an era of state-owned clubs and Financial Fair Play debates, the story of Nottingham Forest feels like a fever dream. Between 1977 and 1980, they went from promotion to winning the First Division (now the Premier League) and then winning two consecutive European Cups. To put that in perspective, imagine a team like Luton Town or Coventry City getting promoted this year, winning the Premier League next year, and then winning the Champions League in 2026 and 2027.
It’s impossible. It literally cannot happen again.
The documentary captures the sheer "lightning in a bottle" nature of that squad. It wasn't just about talent; it was about a specific group of men meeting a specific, eccentric leader at the exact right moment in history. The footage of the 1979 final against Malmö and the 1980 win over Kevin Keegan’s Hamburg is grainy, mud-soaked, and utterly beautiful.
The Peter Taylor Factor
One thing the film treats with a lot of respect is the relationship between Clough and Peter Taylor. While Clough was the frontman—the one giving the iconic interviews and baiting the press—Taylor was the scout with the "eye." He could spot a player in the lower leagues that everyone else had written off.
They were a duo. Like Lennon and McCartney, but for football and with more swearing. The film doesn't shy away from the fact that Clough was lost without Taylor, and vice versa. It’s a love story, really. A very loud, competitive love story about two men who wanted to conquer the world just to prove they could.
The Reality of 1970s Football
If you're expecting 4K ultra-HD drone shots, you’re in the wrong place. But the archival footage in the I Believe in Miracles movie is stunningly restored. You see the pitches that look like plowed fields. You see the tackles that would earn a ten-match ban today. You see the fans—thousands of them in sheepskin coats and flares, packed into terraces that would give a modern health and safety officer a heart attack.
It feels real. It feels tactile.
The movie also touches on the signing of Trevor Francis, the first £1 million player. Clough, in his typical style, tried to downplay the pressure by making Francis make tea for the rest of the squad. He wanted to make sure the big-money signing knew he was just another part of the machine. It worked. Francis scored the winner in the '79 final with a diving header that remains one of the most iconic images in the club's history.
A Masterclass in Editing
Jonny Owen didn't want this to feel like a history lesson. He wanted it to feel like a party. By layering the 70s funk soundtrack over the footage of Forest dismantling the best teams in Europe, he creates a sense of momentum that never lets up. You find yourself rooting for them even if you aren't a Forest fan. Even if you hate football, the human element of "the underdog winning against the system" is universal.
Actionable Takeaways for Your Next Watch
To get the most out of the I Believe in Miracles movie, there are a few things you should do to really soak in the context of what you’re seeing:
- Watch it on a big screen with the sound up. The soundtrack is half the experience. The soul and funk tracks aren't just background noise; they are the heartbeat of the film.
- Pay attention to John Robertson. In a world of athletes who look like Greek gods, Robertson looked like a bloke who worked at a local garage. Watching him glide past world-class defenders is a reminder that technical skill and football intelligence trump gym stats every day of the week.
- Research the "42-game unbeaten run." Before Arsenal’s "Invincibles," there was Clough’s Forest. They went 42 games without a loss in the top flight, a record that stood for a quarter of a century. The movie covers this, but seeing the list of teams they beat during that stretch adds a whole new level of respect.
- Contrast it with "The Damned United." If you’ve seen the movie (or read the book) about Clough’s disastrous 44 days at Leeds United, watch this immediately after. It’s the redemption arc. Leeds was the failure; Forest was the miracle.
- Look for the small details. The way Clough sits on the bench. The way the players talk about him with a mix of fear and genuine love. It’s a masterclass in leadership, even if that leadership style would get you fired from a corporate job in about five minutes today.
This film is a time capsule. It represents a version of the "English Dream" that has largely disappeared from the modern game. It’s about the idea that if you’re good enough, and if you believe in the person leading you, you can beat anyone. Even the giants. Especially the giants.
If you haven't seen it, find a copy. If you have seen it, watch it again. It’s a rare piece of filmmaking that captures the soul of a sport without falling into the trap of over-sentimental clichés. It's just pure, unadulterated Brian Clough. And honestly, that's all you really need.
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Next Steps for the Viewer:
Track down a copy of the film on streaming services like Prime Video or Apple TV. For the full experience, pair the viewing with the official soundtrack on Spotify to understand the "Miracles" vibe. Once you've finished the film, look up the 1979 European Cup Final full match replay online to see the tactical simplicity Clough preached in its rawest form.