On 30/05/2022 at 12:40, Boyne said:

Dreadful behaviour from Rivaldo especially as a Turkish player was sent-off. What is even worse the assistant referee was less than a yard away. How he didn't see it is bizarre.

The player had the intention to hurt and not to pass the ball - the ref thought.

On 03/03/2021 at 15:41, Gol15 said:

Hey @Dean I found a player that I forgot about that you might like. One of the Brazilians I posted here was Juninho, one of the best free kick takers ever, well during the search for a video about free kicks and stuff I found the current manager of a Serie A team, Bologna - Sinisa Mihajlovic.

1986-2006 from Yugoslavia(Serbia).

One of the best free kick takers of all time. Funny how I already posted a few other specialists from a free kick or penalty...

This guy was tough, he started off as a WB but later on became something like a CB or LB, he has scored a hattrick from free kicks only during the 90's in Serie A, at the time when they had insane keepers.

Here is a video from 3-4 years ago, at the time he's almost 50 years old:

 

Here is a goal he scored against us, obviously from a free kick from a crazy angle back in 1999/00:

 

Hattrick from free kicks:

 

And some other compilation:

 

 

Sven Göran Eriksson has him in his best ever 11:

 

The former free kick master and manager has passed away today after battling leukemia for some years. As a defender he managed to score over 100 goals in his career, the vast majority being from free kicks.

There are many former players, clubs and organisations that came out online and posted kind words about him and his family.

He will forever be known as a master of free kicks and one of the only if not the only player  that I know of that has managed to score a hat-trick from free kicks in a single match.

One of his last public events he was with Zdeněk Zeman, the manager that introduced the 4-3-3 formation in Italian football

RIP

 

 

 

Gol15:Sad news indeed. RIP.

On 14/02/2021 at 12:49, erskblue said:

I’ll admit here and now that probably the majority of players I post will be from the 1970s and 1980s.

Great thread mate, just come across iy.

Rocheteaux was a great player, loved watching him. Haven't read all of the thread yet but remember that Dynamo Tblisi team from.The 70s ?

amazing side gave the Hammers a lesson at Upton Park it was live on telly that might can't understand why tbh but I watched it in Whitechapel where I was working at the time. Dunno if you have anyone from that side ? The highlights don't do justice to the game, but you've picked out some memorable players thanks

THE SOVIET SUPERMEN OF DINAMO TBILISI

www.beyondthelastman.com

Give me a boy of impressionable age and he’s mine for life goes the saying. Well I was that impressionable boy in the late 1970s and early 80s and it was the football being played in the Soviet Union that captured this particular heart and mind like little else before or since.
 

With respectful nods in the direction of Minsk, Moscow and Kiev, the standard-bearer of that outstanding Soviet club generation for this football-mad boy was Dinamo Tbilisi and what an impression that team made on me.

In the decades before blanket television coverage of European football became the norm, little was known about teams from the far-flung outposts of the Eastern Bloc. Fixtures were occasional and exposure was fleeting: usually snatched, crackly European competition highlight packages on midweek Sportsnight crammed in as an afterthought once the darts and boxing had been shown.

So the provincial Georgians of Dinamo Tbilisi represented a mysterious and exotic bolt from the blue with their extraordinary football operating on a level way beyond anything I had encountered. Who are these players and what planet did they come from?

Had you told a young me that these men were footballing aliens brought to earth by Soviet Cosmonauts on a mission to conquer the world game, I might just have believed you.

It was a First Round tie against Liverpool in the 1979-80 European Cup that introduced Tbilisi to a startled British public. Being drawn against the recent two-time winners looked the most daunting of European Cup debuts for the Georgian club, but at no stage of this tie did they look remotely cowed by their heavyweight opponents.

Only finishing that fell short of their otherwise lofty levels of technical play allowed Liverpool to edge the Anfield leg 2-1. Tbilisi’s first leg promise was fully realised in the return as they eased to a 3-0 victory in a packed Boris Paichadze National Stadium.

The performance that afternoon was resoundingly accomplished. The South American levels of skill that many of their players possessed operated harmoniously within the traditional Soviet framework of selflessness and team-orientated passing. The first two goals were thrilling: Alan Hansen was left looking foolish after being deceived by a brilliant piece of Kipiani trickery in the penalty box and the veteran set up Gutsaev for the opener. The second saw defender Georgi Chilaya charge 60 yards upfield from left back then neatly set up Shengalia to cutely chip Ray Clemence inside the box.

Older Liverpool fans might have appreciated the symmetry between Chilaya’s surge and a similar one by Facchetti for Inter at the San Siro in a European Cup tie fifteen years early. Liverpool’s players looked baffled, battered and bemused. The Anfield side experienced losses during their 1977-85 European Cup era, but this was one of the very few occasions when they were simply outclassed.

 

Tbilisi’s next English encounter was a 1981 Cup Winners Cup Quarter Final tie against West Ham. The first leg at the Boleyn Ground turned into a masterclass of intelligent, flexible and incisive football by the visitors who demonstrated some of the best counter-attacking football you’re likely to see in your lifetime. Footage from this match should be included as part of the learning materials for UEFA coaching courses.

West Ham spent much of the evening forlornly chasing slippery white shadows and could consider themselves rather fortunate to escape with just a 4-1 home defeat.

The opening Tbilisi goal was so ridiculously good that it belonged more in a Roy of the Rovers cartoon than on a football pitch.

After a succession of slick passes, Aleksandre Chivadze collected a knockdown ten yards inside his own half, surged forward into West Ham territory and let fly from 30 yards with a dipping drive that sailed over the head of a flat-footed Phil Parkes.

That’s Aleksandre Chivadze the defender by the way, admittedly a defender who had greater mastery of the ball than any creative outfield British player I had seen.

It was a revelation to watch a player from the back line who caressed the ball around a pitch rather than just blooter it. Chivadze just didn’t look like he originated from the same species, never mind play in the same position as the cumbersome central defensive threshing machines I was used to watching. It was a similar story throughout the team: the quick clever feet of David Kipiani so adept at unbalancing opponents; Ramas Shengelia’s strength and seemingly telepathic awareness of his colleagues’ runs; Vladimir Gutsayev’s finely tuned radar for goal and emphatic, calm finishing and the nimble, scuttling style of Vitali Daraselia, always cleverly finding pockets of space to work in.

This was an exhibition of the giddy heights of beauty that football could reach and set a demanding benchmark I would judge all subsequent teams against. Here was a side that from front to back was so focused, so comfortable in possession, so assured in their touch, so adept with their flicks and feints and so clever at manufacturing passing angles.

For teams to have pace in abundance was assumed, then as now, to be a great asset and yet this Tbilisi side appeared to have a mastery of the more complex dynamics underpinning tempo. The Georgians understood the notion that opponents were much more disoriented by change of pace rather than just outright pace in itself. Tempo was there to be manipulated: to slow the game down to a crawl before exploding into life and tearing into surprised opponents who could not just flick a switch and adapt to the quicker game being imposed upon them. West Ham’s players could do little more than wander around the pitch in a shell-shocked state, hoping more by chance than intention to get in the way of the deft passing patterns of these Soviet supermen.

 

Having spilled hundreds of words in praise of this Tbilisi team, incongruously I’ll now have to admit that the nature of this recollection could probably only have originated from someone of British provenance. There was just something about this team that seemed to reserve its very best performances for games against English opposition – which were the only games I saw them play of course.

Dinamo’s broader record in European competition during these years is surprisingly unremarkable and my view might not be so rose-tinted if, for example, I had been able to watch highlights of them being smacked 4-0 by Grasshoppers Zurich in the 1977-78 UEFA Cup. And then there were the undistinguished European exits to Hertha Berlin, Hamburg and Standard Liege. Even that team’s greatest moment, the 1981 Cup Winners Cup win, came after a dour Final against modest Carl Zeiss Jena that was a rather harder fought game than it should have been.

So perhaps had I been German, Swiss or Belgian, my enduring impression of that Dinamo Tbilisi team might have been more centred on their flaws, like the lack of command in the air defensively or the unreliable keeper, Gabelia, who was prone to avoidable error after avoidable error.

It’s all hypothetical of course and even the passage of time has failed to dull those first childhood impressions and my unshakeable belief that, between 1978 and 1981, Dinamo Tbilisi was the closest team my generation had to total football-era Ajax.

Some highlights of West Ham v Dynamo Tbilisi from ECWC in March 1981.

EMILIO BUTRAGUEÑO: THE VULTURE

01/08/2019 by EUAN MCTEAR.         www.thesefootballtimes.com 0

 

Emilio Butragueño always looked like he smelled nice. Although nicknamed the ‘Vulture’, he was the pretty footballer who played pretty football back in the hearty days of muddy pitches and agricultural tackles. His unassuming blue eyes, his light curly locks and his perfect Colgate smile meant he looked more like Steve McQueen than a striker for Real Madrid, yet Butragueño made it at the biggest club in world football, withstanding the club’s morbo for 12 years.

In actuality, Butragueño probably did smell nice. His father, also named Emilio, owned a perfume store in the centre of Madrid, just off the capital’s pulsing vein of Gran Vía, and it was there that the family earned their middle-class income. Young Emilio never had it all, but he never wanted for anything either. He studied at the prestigious San Antón School, before transferring to the private school of Calasancio when his family moved to another part of the city. 

It was at Calasancio that his passion for sport grew, first in basketball and later in football. His progress was overseen by gym teacher José Antonio Sacristán, a keen Real Madrid fan who was determined to see his protégé wear the famous white shirt. His father was also a Real Madrid member. The club, though, had other ideas. They didn’t scout him as often as Atlético Madrid did and then they didn’t pick him from the 40 or 50 kids who participated in Butragueño’s first Real trials. 

“We’ll call you,” they told him. It was Atleti, however, who made a serious offer in 1981, one which the teenager felt he had to consider and which led him to train in red and white for three days. “But son, how could you play for Atlético Madrid?” his father asked him one evening. “I cannot let it happen.” And so, Emilio Sr. used his contacts within the club to arrange for another trial. This time his son was accepted into the Real academy. The rest, as they say in Madrid, is “historia que tú hiciste”. The history that Emilio made.

If Carlsberg did debuts then they’d look something like Emilio Butragueño’s. Real Madrid were away at Cádiz on 5 February 1984, and they were struggling. At half-time, the Andalusians were leading 2-0 and Los Blancos coach Alfredo Di Stéfanorolled the dice, substituting on the young striker, who had only played for Castilla, Real’s B team, up until that point in the season. “I know that Di Stéfano trusted me,” Butragueño later recalled. “But he was a man of few words.” In fact, the club legend uttered just two words to the then-20-year-old. “Nene, calenta,” he said. “Kid, warm up.”

The youngster duly obliged. He then played – and played superbly. On the hour mark, just 15 minutes into his senior Real career, he scored, firing the ball into the bottom corner from outside the box to pull the scores back to 2-1. With two minutes remaining, Ricardo Gallego netted the equaliser, before Butragueño pounced on a rebound from a Juanito shot to stab home the winner one minute after that. 

“It’s amazing,” the handsomely dressed youngster told television cameras after the match. “It’s as if somebody up in heaven decided this had to happen.” Given that Real Madrid fans consider Di Stéfano a God, there certainly had been some divine intervention, and the coach decided to keep Butragueño with the first team for the rest of the season, in which the striker made nine more appearances and bagged a couple more goals.

He’d also scored 21 for Castilla that season, which, quite incredibly, made him the Spanish second division’s second top scorer, even though he only participated at that level up until his promotion to the senior squad in February.

Those goals helped Castilla to win the second division that year, the only time in history a club’s youth team has done so. Of course, they were not able to claim their promotion given the first team’s presence in the top flight. It wasn’t all Butragueño, though, as there was plenty more talent in that Castilla squad, and ultimately in the Real Madrid first team. Specifically, there was Manolo Sanchís, Rafael Martín Vázquez, Míchel and Miguel Pardeza, the four men whose careers were inked and linked with Butragueño’s, ever since journalist Julio César Iglesias coined the term ‘Quinta del Buitre’. 

In an El País article from 14 November 1983, Iglesias used Butragueño’s phonetically-derived nickname of Buitre – Vulture, in Spanish – and the word Quinta, which relates to military service and refers to those who come through together at the same time, to christen Spain’s answer to the Class of ‘92, almost a decade before Manchester United’s fabled sons began shining so brightly. In any case, the Vulture Class was born. 

More important than the name attributed to them, though, was the praise dished out by Iglesias for these five players, all performing excellently in that 1983/84 Castilla side. “Butragueño’s goalscoring streak is a demonstration of the individual quality he possesses, but also of the combining of efforts,” the article said. “Behind El Buitre is a coach with imagination, Amancio Amaro, and the collective ingenuity of Míchel, Pardeza, Sanchís and Martín Vázquez. 

El Buitre’s rise has been a shared phenomenon, as his play and his goals have been made possible thanks to the rare aligning of a particular emotion, love from the fans and a group of stunning forwards and fine midfielders.”

Iglesias was clearly besotted with these five rising stars, and most of Madrid soon was too, so much so that the B team started playing some of their matches at the Estadio Santiago Bernabéu, even attracting over 80,000 fans for a clash against Athletic Club’s youth team in December of that year. 

Soon the quintet was playing in front of a packed Bernabéu on a regular basis. All of them minus Míchel turned out for the first team in 1983/84, with the midfielder then making his own debut – he had actually played for the seniors once before during a player strike in 1982, but he considered this his true debut – in the first game of the 1984/85 campaign. While they finished a disappointing fifth in the league that season, 17 points behind Barcelona, it wasn’t a terrible year, as Real Madrid scooped up their first UEFA Cup, with Butragueño scoring four goals en route. They also won that year’s edition of the short-lived Spanish League Cup. The league titles would come before long, though – five of them in a row. 

Although they were a quintet, Butragueño only actually played at a senior level with Michel, Sanchís, Martín Vázquez and Pardeza on one occasion, in a 1986/87 Copa del Rey semi-final against Atlético Madrid. Pardeza never really made it in the seniors and soon moved to Real Zaragoza, which explains why the first photo to appear if you type Quinta del Buitre into Google is one of Pardeza in a Zaragoza shirt, standing next to his four friends, still in their Real Madrid colours. 

Iglesias, the El País journalist, later admitted he had wanted to make his article about a group of five players for the sake of the narrative, so Pardeza had only just made the cut anyway, with Francis Rodríguez nearly included instead.

Yet the four who did cement their spot in the Real Madrid XI achieved so much. At the end of that sweet and sour 1984/85 season – in which they won two cups, yet came fifth in the league – Luis Molowny took over and things truly began to click. Hugo Sánchez’s arrival had a lot to do with that, as he moved across the city from Atlético Madrid in the summer of 1985, after a move to Barcelona fell through at the last moment. With Pardeza on loan in Zaragoza ahead of his permanent move, Sánchez became the fifth member of the Quinta, even if he was a purchased foreigner rather than a Madrid-born youth graduate. 

Along with Newell’s Old Boys youth product Jorge Valdano, who had arrived the previous summer, Sánchez fired in the goals. The Mexican scored 22 that year and the Argentine bagged 16, but Butragueño reached double figures too, even at the tender age of 22. Real Madrid stormed to the title, finishing 11 points and eight victories ahead of second-placed Barcelona. That ended a six-year drought, their longest in three decades. 

From famine to feast, Real Madrid added to that title the following season, coming up with a sequel as good as Lethal Weapon 2 a couple of years before the film was even released. The team improved and Butragueño got even better too. He’d announced himself on the world stage in the summer in between, scoring five goals in Mexico at the 1986 World Cup, four of them in one match against Denmark. “It was like a one-on-one match between me and him,” the Danish goalkeeper Lars Høgh suggested afterwards. Back home, Butragueño was the man of the moment, with his father’s shop receiving so many calls the day after the Denmark victory that the store manager labelled it a “disaster for the business”. 

Back at club level, he, his fellow youth graduates, Sanchéz and World Cup-winner Valdano retained their league title, beating Barcelona to the finish line in a bizarrely-formatted championship which was split into three groups for the final stretch. This time Butragueño upped his LaLiga goals tally to 11, while he took another tiny step the following season, hitting 12 goals. 

It was a goal in the Copa del Rey, though, that would live long in the memory, with the number 7 collecting the ball at the edge of the Cádiz penalty area before tip-tapping his way past two defenders and the goalkeeper, as unpredictable as a shopping trolley with a rogue wheel, jittering a tightrope along the byline to walk the ball into the net. That may be his most famous goal, but it was anything but a one-off, as he time and again put the ball in the back of the net with the kind of grace that the Spanish game had rarely seen before. 

Butragueño could finish well, but he also possessed a ruthless knack for assisting goals. “One way of enjoying a game is through scoring goals,” he once said. “But another is through coming up with nice pieces of play or through creating goals for teammates. If a game finishes and I’ve scored two goals, but not played well, then I would not feel all that comfortable.” 

Asked to play Frankenstein for a moment and construct the perfect player, he explained that he would need to have the eye for goal of Hugo Sánchez, but that he’d also need the intelligence of Johan Cruyff, the speed of Paco Gento, the dribbling of Diego Maradona, the aerial prowess of Santillana, and the confidence of José Antonio Camacho. While the player he described was imaginary, Butragueño wasn’t far off from being its living embodiment.

 

Blessed with this unique talent, Real Madrid had gone on to win five league titles in row, something they had only done once before and have not done since. In fact, no Spanish team has. The capital side won their five back-to-back championships in convincing fashion too. 

At the beginning of the 1987/88 season, they came out absolutely flying, defeating Cádiz 4-0 on the road and then smashing Sporting Gijón 7-0 at home. New Atlético Madrid president Jesús Gil claimed that this was a fluke and that Los Blancos wouldn’t be able to net seven again. Just six days later they won 7-1 at Real Zaragoza. It was all too easy and the only season in which there was any semblance of a title race was in 1986/87, when they beat Barça by three points. 

Eventually, though, domestic success did not quench the thirst. Butragueño’s Real Madrid were clearly the best side in Spain, but could they thrill on the continent in the same way?

Ding, dong, ding. “Final call for all passengers travelling to Sydney, that’s a final call for all passengers travelling to Sydney.” Ding, dong, ding. “Hey Manolo, should we get on that one?” Butragueño joked to his teammate, only half-kidding. They and their Real Madrid colleagues were instead booked onto a flight from Eindhoven to Madrid, and they were not looking forward to the prospect of returning to the Spanish capital empty-handed, with no ticket to the European Cup final to show the expectant fan base. 

As much as the Quinta del Buitre went on to claim five consecutive LaLiga titles, they never won a European Cup, the trophy which has defined Real Madrid ever since they triumphed in the first edition back in 1956. By 1966, Real had won the tournament six times, but they had not lifted Big Ears since, and the supporters were growing impatient. It was now 1988 and Real boasted their best squad in a generation, so now was the time to return to Europe’s throne. They’d had their Big Bang moment; they just needed to wipe out all dinosaurs in their path. PSV’s Hans van Breukelen had other ideas, though. 

Real Madrid had already knocked out Maradona’s Napoli, defending champions Porto and the previous year’s runners-up Bayern Munich en route to the 1988 semi-final. Understandably, they travelled to Holland full of confidence, even after drawing 1-1 draw at home in the first leg. Yet they came up against a goalkeeper in inspired form, with Van Breukelen thwarting half a dozen clear Spanish chances to make 6 April 1988 the worst night of Butragueño’s career, according to the striker himself. 

The second leg duly finished 0-0 and the Dutch side advanced on away goals, winning the final against Benfica on penalties after another goalless draw. With an average of just one goal per game and with no wins inside 90 minutes from the quarter-finals onwards, PSV became one of the least exciting European champions ever. At least they became European champions; the Quinta del Buitrenever did.

 

In the end, Butragueño didn’t flee to Sydney and instead returned to Spain to lift another LaLiga title, before he and his Real Madrid teammates gained some revenge for that Dutch humiliation the following season, knocking PSV out in the quarter-finals as Butragueño scored one of the goals in the 3-2 aggregate victory. 

However, they came up against an even scarier opponent in Arrigo Sacchi’s AC Milan. This time the semi-final wasn’t even close, as the Italians tore Real Madrid to shreds at the San Siro, winning 5-0 and claiming a 6-1 aggregate victory. The following season, the last in their five-in-a-row LaLiga run, they were put out by the Milanese again.

The arrival of the 1990s marked the beginning of the end for the Quinta del Buitregeneration, with Cruyff’s Barcelona set to win four consecutive league titles of their own and with Milan going on to reach four European finals in five seasons. It was pure bad luck that this talented and mesmerising Real team happened to coincide with two of the greatest clubs sides in continental history, as they could have won so much more otherwise, both domestically and, more importantly, in Europe. 

Still, Butragueño and his teammates remain one of the legendary Real Madrid sides of all-time, even if there is an asterisk next to their record to remind future generations that they did not contribute any of the club’s 13 European Cups. As Míchel explained in Sid Lowe’s book Fear and Loathing in LaLiga: “We didn’t win the European Cup, but still we’re remembered and still we have a place in the club’s history. Even without the European Cup, we left a legacy.” 

Back in the 1980s, he even remarked that he and his teammates should stop winning the league so often and so easily, so that their fans would value it more and appreciate what a feat it truly was. With time, Madridistas have indeed come to realise the true greatness of the Quinta del Buitre, and of course they’ve come to realise the greatness of the man who lent his name to the team – Emilio Butragueño. 

All good things must come to an end. In the summer of 1994, Real Madrid hired Butragueño’s former striker partner Valdano as coach, just a year after his Tenerife side had defeated Los Blancos 2-0 on the final day to deny them another league title. El Buitre missed four clear-cut chances that day in the Canary Islands and Valdano had been afforded a front-row seat. When he took over at the Bernabéu, the legendary number 7 was not in his plans. 

Even though Valdano’s great friend and rival Cruyff had remarked that Real Madrid’s starting XI should always be Butragueño plus ten others, Valdano wasn’t convinced and only played Butragueño for 171 LaLiga minutes, as Real Madrid reclaimed the title for the first time since the Quinta del Buitre’s last in 1989/90.

At the end of that 1994/95 season, it was clear that there was now some friction between the still-striker and the striker-turned-coach. This was the 1990s, though, and anything was possible, even a live television interview between the pair. Butragueño appeared alongside Valdano on Spanish television show Un Paseo Por El Tiempo – A Walk Through Time – in an episode dedicated to the Spanish footballing legend. 

Even though the Argentine’s Real Madrid side had just taken part in a summer friendly against København, he sat down and was video-fed into the studio to chat about Butragueño’s career and to explain exactly why he was no longer deemed good enough for Real Madrid. It was more candid than any ESPN or Match of the Day debate seen in the 21st century. It was also honest and to the point, with Valdano telling the audience that benching an ageing club legend had been a hard decision for him, but that he knew it was even harder for Butragueño to deal with. 

Valdano, though, clearly admired his former teammate and this came across in that interview, while the fact he’d even taken the time to speak for this Butragueño special said a lot. Valdano, one of the best football writers and pundits around, even wrote that “to back Butragueño is to reinforce an attitude and is like choosing between fear and daring, between boredom and happiness and between muscle and talent”. He obviously loved the style with which Butragueño played, but clearly had no place for a 32-year-old striker in his side, at the same time as a young Raúl was breaking through and ready to inherit the number 7 shirt. 

Butragueño wanted to stay at the club of his life. Even if he’d been told there was no place for him, like a dog who returns to his vomit, he’d have wanted to go back anyway, Ultimately, however, the decision was made for him, so he departed for Mexico with Club Celaya. While he had been linked with a move to Japan, which was even stranger at the time than it would be now, he ultimately decided to join forces with former teammates Míchel and Hugo Sánchez in the Mexican league.

He scored 29 goals across three seasons there, leaving such an impact that the club ultimately tried to rename their stadium after him, a request which was denied by the local government. Eventually, in 1998, at the age of 34, Butragueño decided to hang up his boots. 

He did not, however, abandon the sport of football. He had always been a smart man and had always spoken about the importance of education, with the striker himself having studied business sciences.
He even took an MA in Sports Management after his time in Mexico and then brought that knowledge back to the Spanish capital, when he proved that he had no significant issue with Valdano by agreeing to join his directorial team at the Bernabéu in 2001. “My wife always said that when I retired I’d have more time for my family, but the fact is that I’ve got even less now,” he joked to FIFA. 

Nowadays he is Real Madrid’s director of institutional relations, and it is the perfect role for him. Butragueño was never one for indulging the media, nor was he ever a confrontational type, as evidenced by the fact he only ever collected five yellow cards during his time at Real Madrid. He even practised yoga, so was never really going to be a fiery director.

 His current role, therefore, is perfect for him, as he can throw cold water on any artificial fires created in the Madrid media, while also boasting the respect only bestowed on true club legends. 

Even now, at 56 years of age, nobody will mess with him. Butragueño: the man who was tough and graceful, the man who was an angelic vulture.

By Euan McTear @emctear

Edited May 30, 20233 yr by erskblue

SÁNDOR KOCSIS: THE QUIET HUNGARIAN WHO WAS AS CLINICAL AS PUSKÁS

16/06/2017 by TREVOR MURRAY.     www.thesefootballtimes.com 0

 

IF YOU’VE NEVER HEARD OF SÁNDOR KOCSIS, it’s likely that you’re not from Hungary or you’re not a die-hard Barcelona supporter. Held up as a cherished cult hero by both sets of fans, Kocsis’ quality is well known by both the Blaugrana and admirers of Hungarian football history, but outside of those circles he’s generally brought up in conversation rarely – or as a recent footnote, someone whose international goals tally looks set to be inevitably overhauled by Cristiano Ronaldo.

Search his name on Twitter or on Google and he will appear as just another name about to fall victim to Ronaldo’s insatiable appetite for goals. Just two strikes away from equalling his haul, it is only a matter of time until the Portuguese overtakes him, and yes, before the Los Blancos attacker moves past Ferenc Puskás, too, to top the all-time European international goal-scorer list.

But to refer to Kocsis in such a way is to do him a terrible injustice because he is so much more than a milestone to overcome. First and foremost, he is a national hero whose legacy deserves to be celebrated by football fans everywhere and held up in as high regard as the Pelés, Romarios and Silvio Piolas of the beautiful game’s history books.

Aspiring strikers everywhere spend hours studying and mimicking the moves, styles and tricks of their modern heroes, but there is a great deal to be said for delving into the past, plonking oneself in front of a screen and watching old black-and-white footage of someone of Kocsis’ unrivalled ability. Even today, the Hungarian great has a lot of lessons to impart.

After all, a great footballer is a great footballer no matter what era they are from. Not often showered with mainstream praise, it might surprise you to learn, then, that Kocsis is arguably the greatest goalscorer ever seen on the international stage.

He didn’t win the World Cup, European Championship or the European Cup, he wasn’t the highest scoring Hungarian in history and he didn’t rack up an insane amount of 1,000-plus goals in his career. That said, there is still a very convincing argument that we have not seen since his playing days came to an end, nor will ever see again, a striker of his clinical nature.

That’s because in a mere 68 international appearances for his country, he scored 75 times. Just let that sink in for a moment – his goals-to-games ratio was a mind-blowing 1.10 per match.
 

That is, quite simply, an astonishing number that not even Portugal’s Ronaldo can ever hope to get anywhere near. In fact, it has taken the much-lauded Real Madrid captain twice as many appearances to score two less than Kocsis.

Kocsis is said to have been so good in his pomp, in fact, that Gergely Marosi, a prominent Hungarian journalist and expert on all things Magyar-related, believes his goalscoring achievements will not be emulated ever again: “His 75 goals in 68 matches for the national team is, quite simply, insane,” Marosi told These Football Times.

 

“No-one will get close to that conversion rate in a Hungarian jersey, I think. Probably his personal highlight was the two crucial goals scored against Uruguay in the semi-final of the 1954 World Cup, sending Hungary to the final. He was so exhausted after the game that he could not dress properly.”

Indeed, if there is one big highlight that sticks out in Kocsis’ goal-filled career for his beloved country, it is his contributions on that day in Lausanne on June 30, over 60 years ago.

The rise before the fall, his expertly dispatched double that afternoon marked his 47th and 48th goals respectively in his international career and would go on to cement his status as the top scorer in Switzerland that summer with a remarkable 11 goals, thus claiming the cherished Golden Boot award.

Before gifting Hungary the victory in extra time, though, Kocsis’ heading ability was witnessed for its creativity, proving that he wasn’t simply a finisher, but a provider of assists as well.

As Nándor Hidegkuti – the renowned scorer of a hat-trick in the 6-3 ‘Match of the Century’ win against England – received the ball 15 yards from the edge of the box, he sized up his options surrounded by markers before dinking a lovely lofted chip into the alert Kocsis, whose perfectly directed header squeezed through to Zoltán Czibor to finish with a sweetly-struck left-footed effort that arrowed into the bottom far corner of the net in the 12th minute.

Hidegkuti himself doubled Hungary’s lead two minutes following the restart to set them up for a comfortable finish, but a brace from Juan Hohberg levelled the scores to send the teams into added time at the death.
 

Awash with drama, full-pelt running and no-nonsense approach play, this was a match played by hardy, technical characters, and it meant everything to them.

The image of three Hungarian players distraught on the goal-line as Hohberg wheeled away following his second strike in the 86th minute told its own story of just how hard-fought the game was. Certain victory, snatched away with the flick of a boot against leather – such were the fine margins of the game.

Cue Kocsis to produce a monstrous surge of energy and a shot of heroism. Marosi says that heading was undoubtedly Kocsis’ greatest asset – something the Hungarian journalist’s own grandfather saw used to devastating effect at first hand in his day: “My grandfather used to play lower league football in the time of Kocsis, and he was observing his game week in and week out to learn about heading,” Marosi tells me.

“He says Kocsis had the best and cleanest heading technique he ever witnessed on a football pitch, combined with great jumping, and for him especially impressive was the way Kocsis aimed his strong headers downward, just around the goal-line, so the goalkeepers had really difficult time to keep those out.

“If you look at contemporary photos, you can see how strong Kocsis’ neck was – not unlike Cristiano Ronaldo. He used that to devastating effect. He was able to outjump almost everyone, almost stopping for a moment at the peak of the jump and then send his famous bullet headers on goal.”

Indeed, that was exactly how it played out in the 1954 World Cup semi-final as ‘Golden Head’ stayed true to his name to deliver two lethal blows to Uruguay’s rally, nodding a pair of confident headers from close range on both occasions to power the ball into the back of the net past Roque Gastón Máspoli – the first to the goalkeeper’s left, the second to his right.

It wouldn’t have surprised many that Kocsis was producing the goods in the absence of Ferenc Puskás, who had been missing for the quarter-final against Brazil, because Kocsis had always made a habit of rattling the net ever since his debut aged 18 against Romania (during which he pocketed two goals) and eventually went on to record an unbelievable seven international hat-tricks.

However, what is a little odd is how 1954 and Puskás are linked so positively with each other despite the “Galloping Major” experiencing a lack of game time. To the wider football community, the story of Kocsis and his goal-spree across the Swiss cities of Zürich, Basel and Bern might seem a little undercelebrated, somehow suffocated by the legacy of his more illustrious teammate and captain.

The fact Kocsis isn’t shouted about in the same way might have something to do with what happened in the final. Hungary lost 3-2 against West Germany, a team they had comprehensively beaten 8-3 in the group stage when Kocsis grabbed an astonishing four goals.

 Kocsis was expected to shine again, but his powers deserted him against the Germans the second time around as he failed to net in the showpiece final with Puskás returning to the fray as Hungary were made to pay for a lack of clinical finishing.

Kocsis was simply exhausted from his tournament plundering. He had played in every match of the tournament and had been heavily relied on to get them out of trouble on a number of occasions, not least against Uruguay and the Brazilians.

A look at the ’54 final matchday squads sees László Budai on the bench, a player whom Kocsis had a good rapport with on the pitch. Budai’s crosses were often measured perfectly for the imposing striker – after all, they had combined for the first extra-time goal in the last four and had been teammates at Honvéd for several years. Perhaps that had been the problem.

Whatever the reasons behind the lack of buzz for Kocsis’ legacy, the fact remains that he couldn’t do what he did best on the biggest stage around and Hungary missed their best chance of getting their hands on the Jules Rimet trophy for the first time.

Marosi is of the opinion that Kocsis’ humble nature played its part in the former Honvéd star not receiving the accolades he deserved: “It might have to do with his early and tragic death, the fact that, unlike Puskás, he never had the chance to return home and his personality, which was quite reserved and introverted. He was never the one to self-promote – and that might well be a factor when building a legacy.

“It’s difficult to compare players from very different periods this way. Ronaldo is a player who, alongside Messi, defines his era. I think Puskás was considered more era-defining, but Kocsis was up there in the very top strikers of the world. I don’t think Kocsis had such an impact on world football as Ronaldo, but that of course has to do in the very different era they lived in,” Marosi tells me.

Essentially exiled from his home country after a student-led revolution broke out in October 1956, Kocsis never returned home while he was still alive, although he was brought back in 2012 from Spain where his remains had rested since he had passed away in 1979. That’s because Kocsis and Spain, namely Barcelona, formed a special bond for eight years.

Having been on continental duty with Honvéd at the time of a serious national uprising which sent shockwaves across the country, playing the first leg of a European Cup clash against Athletic Club, Kocsis, Laszlo Kubala and Puskas ultimately took the decision to escape with their families from a Soviet-controlled country which wound up violently squashing the people’s rebellion.

So began a worldwide tour with the club – deemed illegal by FIFA – which saw the players showcase their talents to a vast array of clubs in Spain and Brazil as well as raising funds. This was essentially Kocsis’ chance to break free, but while painfully distancing himself from the trouble back home – as well as the chance to ever play for his country again – meant freedom from conflict, it also signalled the breaking up of a club team that had, at one point, consisted of six Hungarian players who had featured in the infamous 6-3 routing of England.

In effect, it was the end of a dream team that, had history not conspired to scatter them to the winds and deny them the opportunity to play in Europe together, could easily have gone on to monopolise European football.

Honvéd’s loss would be European football’s gain as Kocsis became available for some of the best clubs around, ending a domestic career in Hungary which saw him pick up four league crowns as well as scoring a reputed 250 goals – 177 of which came in the colours of Honvéd.

After two years globetrotting and making appearances in exhibition matches for Honvéd, the man affectionately dubbed “Kocka” ultimately found a more permanent home at Barcelona, whom he had played against on the tour, before going on to be one of the greatest goalscorers the club has ever seen.

In all, he netted 151 times in 235 matches, claiming two Fairs Cups, two league titles as well as a pair of Copa del Rey triumphs to underline that, despite playing only pseudo-competitive football for almost 24 months in the lead-up to his transfer to the club, he had never lost his world-class touch and was as good as he had ever been.

However, as it was for the national side, there would come one notable pockmark on an otherwise blemish-free stint. Perhaps it is no coincidence that the scene of his 1954 World Cup final disappointment, the w**kdorf Stadium in Bern, would be the same for the setback he encountered in the 1961 European Cup final against Benfica.

Going down 3-2 to the Portuguese outfit, having knocked five-time champions Real Madrid out earlier in the competition, it was a bitter pill for the Spanish club to take. Kocsis, no doubt, found defeat doubly difficult to stomach because not only had he played bravely with memories of defeat on his mind, but he had overcome them by scoring the first goal of the game.

Barça’s Kubala held off the attempted tackles of Cruz in the middle of the park before he spread the play wide for the right full-back Martí Vergés to run onto. Vergés collected at pace before the ball had run out of play, prodded a clever through-ball into the path of Luis Suárez, who stormed into the box from the right to curl a cross into the path of Kocsis and the Hungarian made no mistake with his finish – getting in front of his man near the back post with a fearsome leap to stab the ball into the back of the net, past the sickened Costa Pereira.

Kocsis spun away, back in the direction the assist had come from, arms raised in jubilant celebration, to embrace his team-mates as the fans roared in thunderous appreciation. It was a classy goal, an important goal and one that summed up the spirit and style of Kocsis the player and the man.

Full of resilience, vivacity and enthusiasm, Kocsis always played with everything he had in him and it’s no surprise that his goal in the 1961 final came, again, via his head. It really was his best weapon and although he didn’t rely solely on it to best custodians, it was his most effective means of doing so.

Two of the most prestigious finals Kocsis ever played in ended in defeat and agony for him, but to focus entirely on these disappointments would ignore his ability to redefine himself, his self-belief to pursue a career as a professional footballer despite having to leave behind a country he loved, the way he spearheaded a golden generation for the Mighty Magyars, how he constantly faced down the past and the historic role he played in shaping the future of European club football.

That’s because he was there for the spiritual birth of the European Cup when Honvéd travelled to Molineux to take on Wolverhampton Wanderers  in a high-profile friendly in 1954, two years before his enforced separation from his homeland. It would also prove the precursor to arguably Kocsis’ greatest display of post-Hungary excellence.

Wolves’ surprise 3-2 victory over the visiting Honvéd in December 1954 was used by plenty of newspapers to defend English football’s honour, with journalist David Wynne-Morgan painting a particularly colourful, if fairly propagandist, picture on the night with his reportage: “Salute the wonderful Wolves this morning for giving Britain her greatest football victory since the war. Last night under the Molineux floodlights, they beat Honvéd, the Magical Magyars, by 3-2 after being 2-0 down at half-time. England has never had more worthy champions,” he wrote.

Wolves manager Stan Cullis told the Daily Mirror: “The match was the most exciting I have ever seen.”

Far from being one of Kocsis’ most cherished nights of football, he didn’t let the mucky conditions detract from his skill as he got on the scoresheet once again, his involvement playing a key role in drawing such an enormous crowd to watch on the night. The result was held aloft by English pundits as proof that the nation was on the rise again following a downward spiral that had reached new lows in their Wembley defeat to Hungary a year prior, but plenty of other countries questioned that claim.

The English press’ one-way exclamations morphed into a heated conversation with the rest of the continent as L’Équipe chimed in to directly challenge any proclamations of Wolves, or England, being ‘the best’. Before long, everyone was having their say, the dialogue quickly descending into a shouting match that ultimately dragged on as statements and counter-claims were made.

Thankfully, bureaucracy took hold and, finally, the European Cup was introduced in the mid-1950s to settle the matter once and for all. 

Of course, Real Madrid dominated proceedings as they made history by winning the first five editions in a row, but for Kocsis there would be a degree of poetic justice done when he came face-to-face with Wolves once more in the second leg of Barça’s first-ever European Cup quarter-final in 1960.

In fact, he would more than gain his vengeance as he scored the team’s fastest hat-trick of the competition to seal a 5-2 victory (9-2 aggregate) by netting in the 44th, 49th and 74th minutes to banish the memories of that original muddy night in the English West Midlands. One commentator at the time even went so far as to dub the rematch ‘Massacre Night at Molineux’, with Kocsis firmly cast in the role of executioner as Wolves lost their first-ever tie at their home ground to a foreign side.

If the original encounter had been sold afterwards as an unofficial world title, Kocsis was making sure that the rematch saw him wrestle his piece of the belt back, even managing to produce a headed goal on the night.

It’s difficult to tell for sure, but it’s equally easy to infer a great deal from his three-goal haul against Wolves. He probably saw it as his opportunity to prove himself, remind the world of his quality and finally move on to bigger and brighter things. A remarkable striker who played such a starring role in Hungary’s most fertile period in football before going on to carve out a wonderful club career, it’s sad to think that Kocsis is still, in a way, trying to prove his worth.

Not largely viewed as a generation-defining figure, due in part to his low-key nature and dislike of the limelight, and widely seen now as Ronaldo’s next target, Kocsis might not get singled out the proper way as much as he should, but nothing can erase the history he created, the goals he scored or the unlikely path he beat en route to his own unique corner of greatness.

By Trevor Murray  @TrevorM90

With thanks to Gergely Marosi and @aspiring_bear for their expertise.

Apologises if this has already been posted on this thread. Didn’t check!

Edited July 30, 20233 yr by erskblue

 

SEPP MAIER: THE MAN WHOSE BRILLIANT BLUEPRINT LATER GAVE US KAHN, LEHMANN AND NEUER

16/10/2018 by GARY THACKER 0

During the late 1960s and early 70s, West German football was the dominant force in the game. As well as Die Mannschaft lifting the World Cup in their homeland in 1974, Bayern Munich brought three successive European Cups to Bavaria between 1974 and 1976. A number of players featured for both Bayern and the national side, and whilst some may be more celebrated – the likes of Franz Beckenbauer and Gerd Müller spring to mind – few would have been more instantly recognisable than Josef-Dieter Maier, better known as Sepp Maier; owner of big gloves, long shorts and a goalkeeper’s cap full to the brim with medals. 

The legendary custodian is often acknowledged for his pioneering attitude to the role of the modern man between the sticks and is often particularly lauded for his agility. It’s an skill that earned him the nickname of Die Katze von Anzing – The Cat from Anzig. For all that, though, to the many millions of football fans around the world, it was the seemingly oversized gloves and long shorts Maier that made him one of the most recognisable footballers on the planet.

As his nomme de guerre suggests, there was far more to Sepp Maier than a perhaps questionable choice of attire. He was not only one of the outstanding goalkeepers of his generation, but also an indispensable member of both the club and national teams that ruled football in the 70s.

Sepp Maier was born in the small town of Metten, Bavaria, in February 1944. Growing up in a post-war Germany destroyed by conflict, and then torn asunder by allied rivalries bent on securing their own dominions, would have been a harrowing process.

The young Maier had football for solace, however, and his passion for the game would bring great reward. At just eight years of age, he joined local sports club TSV Haar, where his ability was nurtured to the extent that, in 1959, he was snapped up by Bayern Munich. 

It was the beginning of a relationship with the club that would stand the test of time. A playing career spanning 18 years was later followed by a further 14 working as a coach and searching for his successor. It was a task that he excelled in, developing and mentoring Oliver Kahn, who would have 14 years with Die Bayern.

At international level, this dedication to his protégé eventually cost him his coaching position with the national team. After Euro 2004, he clashed with then manager Jürgen Klinsmann, who preferred to play Jens Lehmann ahead of the Bayern stopper.

With no less 95 caps and an array of honours with Die Mannschaft to support of his opinion, perhaps Klinsmann should have taken greater heed of Maier’s more qualified counsel. He didn’t do so, though, and the two parted company. 

Starting off with Bayern’s youth team, Maier progressed through the ranks and international recognition wasn’t slow in following. From 1961 to 1962, he played 11 games for the West Germany youth team and the following year, he also featured four times in the national amateur side. There were surely bigger things ahead for the goalkeeper, now in his late teens. 

By 1962 he was in the Bayern first team and would stake a claim for the club’s number one jersey, which would last until 1979, when a car accident brought the curtain down on his career at the age of 35.

With other goalkeepers of his era, namely Dino Zoff, playing past the age of 40, there would have been many more games left in Maier had the accident not occurred. In between those dates, though, he would still become one of the great figures of German football. 

Unsurprisingly, the peak years of Maier’s career coincided with the most successful periods for both Bayern and West Germany. For his club, it was an ascendancy that took root in his early years as the club blossomed in the decade between 1965 and 1975. DFB-Pokal triumphs in 1966 and 1967 were the prequel to a period of dominance to follow for Bayern.

The first of those successes opened the door to a European adventure and a run in the Cup Winners’ Cup that ended with victory over Glasgow Rangers in extra-time. A maiden success in Europe wouldn’t be Maier’s last. A league and DFB-Pokal double was garnered in the 1968/69 season, followed by another cup success the following year. By now, the league was becoming Bayern’s competition of choice and three successive titles were secured from 1972, marking them out as one of the Bundesliga’s greats.

Not only did Bayern have the estimable Maier as their last line of defence, in front of him, Franz Beckenbauer was strutting his stuff in a libero position he would redefine, ably assisted by the robust Hans-Georg Schwarzenbeck and Paul Breitner.Further forward, Uli Hoeneß and Gerd Muller destroyed opposition defences. Despite the abundance of talent, Maier statistics for the period stand out.

In the first of the three successive title seasons, Bayern conceded just 38 goals across a 34 games. It was a total only bettered by runners-up Schalke’s tally of 35. It’s worth noting that the Bavarian club’s emphasis on going forward in that season also meant they topped Schalke’s goals scored by some 33%. The difference was emphasised by Bayern’s goal difference standing at 63, a full 23 better than their rivals

In the following season, the defence, with Maier in goal, would be even stingier. Opposition forwards were regularly shut out as Maier patrolled his box. In a season of 34 games, his defence was only breached 29 times. Considerably less than a goal per game, the team still registered 93 strikes at the other end. It was a mightily impressive performance and one that would be reprised the following term. 

The dominant performances at home were echoed in Europe. Bayern’s first European Cup triumph with Maier in goal arrived in 1974. A shaky start in the first round, when only a penalty shoot-out brought victory over Swedish part-timers Åtvidaberg, preceded a 7-6 aggregate victory of East Germany’s Dynamo Dresden, before things got into gear against Bulgaria’s CSKA. In the semi-final, a 4-1 aggregate win over Újpesti Dózsa was secured thanks to Maier’s clean sheet in the home leg.

The final against Atlético Madrid was played at the Heysel Stadium in Brussels, with the first game ending in a 1-1 draw. Both goalkeepers had kept clean sheets into extra-time, but tired legs and brains were frayed around the edges as both conceded late.

There were no penalty shootouts to decide the final in those days, and a replay was organised for two days later. Whilst Maier again prevented any goal being conceded, his opposite number at the other end failed to keep up the standard. Miguel Reina conceded four times across the 90 minutes as Bayern lifted the trophy.  

As holders for the following year’s tournament, Bayern had a bye in the first round before facing East German opposition for the second time in two years in the shape of Magdeburg. This would be a different proposition from the games against Dynamo Dresden. Under the canny management of Heinz Krügel, Magdeburg had developed a young team driven on by a coach that, in more enlightened times, may well have made a fortune plying his trade at a top club in the west.

He had taken Magdeburg on an extraordinary run into Europe the previous season, and while Bayern were picking up European club football’s premier trophy, Krügel’s team had lifted the Cup Winners’ Cup, defeating holders AC Milan in the final. Bayern still managed to win both legs, though, to progress, underlining their mental strength as much as anything. 

The semi-final tie against Ararat Yerevan of the Soviet Union would require a robust display by Maier in both legs. Playing in Munich first, entering the last dozen minutes, the game remained goalless. In such circumstances, concede at home and Bayern may well have had difficulties. Maier kept the visitors at bay, though, and two late strikes gave Die Roten something to defend when they travelled east. 

Despite strong home pressure and the roar of 70,000 spectators in Yerevan’s Hrazdan Stadium, Maier and his defence kept the Armenian team to a single goal as Bayern squeezed into the last four and a semi-final against France’s Saint-Étienne.

This was a classic Les Verts vintage. Robert Herbin’s team was full of attacking potential who played with joie de vivre. They had secured the French league title by a clear eight points, winning 23 of their 38 games. In their attack they had the mercurial Dominique Rocheteau, an iconoclastic darling of the avant-garde left and the talismanic ‘Green Angel’ presence on the field who could intoxicate opposition defences in the same way as the spirit after which he was nicknamed. 

The first leg was to be played in France and despite the pressing of the green shirts, Maier’s back line stood firm. Returning with a goalless draw was a highly credible result, but the job wasn’t yet done. Concede at home and Bayern would need to score twice to get into their second successive final.

An early Beckenbauer goal eased the nerves of the home fans, but still a French strike would see them eliminated. Maier didn’t buckle, though, and when Bernd Dürnberger hit the second goal, with the home defence’s record still intact, the tie was done. 

Going into the final, Maier and his defence had kept a clean sheet in five of the previous six European Cup games. Facing Leeds United in the final would be a challenge and a repeat of Maier’s achievements would come in very useful. Late goals from Franz Roth and Müller settled the game in Bayern’s favour as Maier ticked off another clean sheet. Bayern had retained the trophy in some style. 

They went into the following year’s tournament having not secured domestic silverware for two seasons. Lose out in this competition and suddenly, the Bayern cupboard would begin to look a little bare. The club were also embroiled in the Intercontinental Cup. Pitched against Brazilian champions Cruzeiro, the first leg was played in Munich on 23 November. Yet another Maier clean sheet, coupled with late goals from Müller and Jupp Kappellmann, gave Bayern a two-goal lead to take to South America.

It would take a sound defensive performance in Brazil to keep the home team at bay. In front of 123,715 fans, the German nerve held and a goalless draw – and yet another clean sheet – made the journey worthwhile.

Borussia Mönchengladbach had won the Bundesliga and entered the European Cup as German champions, with Bayern’s place secured as holders. The Bavarians skipped through the first round, beating Luxembourg’s Jeunesse Esch 8-2 on aggregate before dispatching Malmö 2-1 to reach the last eight and a pairing with Benfica.

A solid 0-0 draw in Lisbon and a crushing 5-1 home win meant another place in the last four. They would face the mighty Real Madrid. 

Travelling to Spain in March, the Bavarians were in trouble early on when Roberto Martínez achieved the feat that had eluded so many other forwards, beating Maier to put the Spanish club ahead after a mere seven minutes. All of the German back line’s fortitude would now be required to stem the flow of attacks and keep the holders in the game.

In typical fashion, the task was achieved, and when Müller levelled the scores just ahead of the break, it brought the visitors a draw that was maintained until the end. Maier shut out the Spanish attack back in Bavaria and a brace from Der Bomber finished the job. Another European Cup final beckoned. 

At Glasgow’s Hampden Park, Bayern met Les Verts again. It was hardly a classic. Bayern played solidly, comfortable in their defensive solidity, and struck at the opportune moment to win 1-0 and lift their third trophy.

It had been an amazing run by the club and at the heart of it was their goalkeeper whose consistent, often breathtakingly brilliant, displays had played a fulsome part in delivering the triumph. Confidence in a secure back line had led to a pattern of play that was often more pragmatic than dynamic, but working to their strengths had brought the club ample rewards.

Maier would deliver similar assurance in the international arena. He would be selected for four consecutive World Cup squads, although his place in 1966 was merely as a back up to the established starter, Hans Tilkowski. By the time the next tournament rolled around, the position between the sticks was safely in the gloved hands of Maier. In the opinion of many pundits, the German squad that travelled to Mexico and eventually fell to Italy in what a plaque outside of the Azteca stadium describes as the Partido de Siglio (Game of the Century) was superior to the one that triumphed on home soil four years later.  

In South America, there was a dynamic style to the German play that delivered copious amounts of goals, perhaps leaving too many gaps at the back. Five games brought no less than 16 goals, but at the back, 10 were conceded. While the Germans returned with honour and Müller collected the Golden Boot as the tournament’s top scorer, it was time for a rethink ahead of 1974.  

Before that, there was a European Championship to complete. Played in Belgium, the competition at the time was very different to the jamboree experienced these days, with just four teams playing out semi-finals and a final to establish the winner. West Germany defeated the hosts 2-1 and then trounced an uninspiring Soviet Union side 3-0 in the final. Maier had his first international trophy.

Back on home soil, the German side that featured in the 1974 World Cup had a much more pragmatic style to it compared to the one that had plundered so many goals in Mexico four years earlier. Averaging more than three strikes a game in the previous tournament, this was shaved down to slightly under two in 1974, but the goals against column showed the benefit of a more balanced team. The two goals per game conceded in Mexico was reduced to less than one. It made all the difference.

In the first group fixtures, the only goal conceded was in the game against East Germany. It was an encounter that reached beyond mere playing ability for both fraternal and political reasons, and was therefore a far from normal encounter, with East Germany’s win a blip during a glorious summer.

The iconic defeat propelled West Germany into a more comfortable second group section and allowed them to progress fairly comfortably to the final, where they defeated Johan Cruyff and the Dutch Totaalvoetbal. Franz Beckenbauer lifted the trophy and Maier had a World Cup winners medal to add the European Championship one he had gained two years earlier. 

The 1976 version of the European Championship took place in Yugoslavia and again comprised of just four teams. As in Belgium, the Germans defeated the hosts to move into their second successive final, where they would meet the tournament’s surprise side Czechoslovakia, who had defeated the Netherlands 3-1.

The Germans were twice behind in the game, before a goal by Bernd Hölzenbein squared things in the last couple of minutes. A penalty shootout would decide the event. It was here that the defining moment of the tournament occurred, when Antonin Panenka introduced his clipped penalty to the world. Whilst Maier gambled on a save, plunging to one side, a calm chip down the middle brought instant fame to the player and took the trophy to Prague. Maier had been the unwilling dupe in one of football’s famous images. 

In 1978, West Germany crossed the Atlantic to Argentina as the World Cup’s defending champions. Still the automatic starting choice, Maier was now 34, and despite the longevity granted to goalkeepers over and above that afforded to outfield players, it was inevitable that his considerable powers would be on the wane. He was, however, still favoured above Hamburg’s Rudolf Kargus and Dieter Burdenski of Werder Bremen. It was a choice that few questioned.

Belying age and perceptions of an impending loss of ability, Maier played through the entire first group stage without conceding s goal. Things would change in the second stage. After another clean sheet in a goalless draw against Italy, the Germans faced their old foes, the Dutch, whose midfielder Arie Haan had been pressed into a defensive role in the 1970 tournament. He exposed the first chinks in Maier’s considerable armour.

Firing a long-range shot past the German goalkeeper to bring the scores level and put the first goal into the German net so far in the tournament, Maier suddenly seemed fallible. A second goal conceded would follow as the game ended in a draw. In the final match, Austria rode roughshod over their neighbours, defeating Germany 3-2 and ending the erstwhile champions’ interest in the tournament. 

Perhaps the great man was on the slide, with calls from some quarters that a new goalkeeper should be tried. The debate was ended in the cruellest of ways. In 1979, a car crash delivered cruel injuries to Maier, forcing his retirement from playing.

He had turned out in 536 league games, and just one short of 600 in all competitions, for Bayern Munich. He hadn’t missed a single league encounter for his club from the start of the 1966 season.

He had featured 95 times for his country, was German Footballer of the Year three times (1975, 1977, 1978), was awarded the national service medal in 1978, and was recognised as Germany’s Goalkeeper of the Century. 

Big gloves are somewhat akin to big shoes and although both Bayern and Germany have seen a succession of outstanding goalkeepers step up to try and fill them – Kahn, Lehmann and Manuel Neuer to name but a few – none have assumed the stature of Sepp Maier, and perhaps no-one ever will. He remains a legendary figure in German football and one of the greatest goalkeepers to ever play the game.

By Gary Thacker

Edited September 25, 20232 yr by erskblue

Enjoyed reading back through this thread recently. Some very good players have been posted.

Ulubiony Piłkarz Polski – Grzegorz Lato and the 1974 World Cu

     www.allbluedaze.com

Although the 1974 World Cup will be remembered for West Germany lifting the trophy that anointed them champions of the world, it also marked the explosion into international consciousness of two teams, each who may have claims to being better than the tournament’s eventual winners and, who on another day could have reasonably expected to overcome the tournament hosts. Each also had an outstanding star player who many would consider the outstanding player of the tournament.

In the final, the Germans defeated the Dutch team of Cruyff and Michaels’ totaal voetbal in a game that looked destined to go the way of The Netherlands after an early goal had put the Oranje ahead, but as they spent time admiring themselves in the mirror, they got lost in their own swagger, whilst Helmut Schön’s team equalised and then snaffled the trophy away.

The other team possessing that authentic look of potential world beaters also lost to the Germans. They succumbed in the game that took the hosts into that Munich final against the Dutch. Although the denouement of a second group stage rather than a semi-final per se, the 1-0 German victory had a similar effect.

The team they had vanquished was Poland, who had amongst their number the player who would be the tournament’s top scorer, and winner of the Golden Boot. If some would consider the fame duly accorded to the cult of the Dutch entirely worthy, the success of the Poles was perhaps much less celebrated.

Nevertheless, Paul Breitner reveals the worth of the opponents in the encounter that took West Germany to the World Cup Final.  “I can remember one game where I’ve always maintained we beat a team which was fundamentally better than us,” he reflected years later. “In fact, it was definitely the best team in the competition and still didn’t win the World Cup. I mean Poland in 1974.”

Now, some would consider that the compliment also concealed a backhanded jibe against the Dutch as the Germans’ rivals at the time, but even giving a nod to that potential bias, there’s a clear and substantial respect for the Poles and, by association, their leading goalscorer Grzegorz Lato.

Grzegorz Bolesław Lato was born in the northern Polish town of Malbork in 1950, and from 1966 to 1980, played for a single club, Stal Mielec. With a natural ability to beat a player on either side, plus a searing turn of pace and a goal scorer’s instinct to be in the right place at the right time, he became a key player for the club and won league championships in 1973 and 1976. Lato’s contribution to the cause becomes self-evidently clear, when it is noted that he was league’s top goalscorer in both of those triumphant years, netting 13 goals in the former, and 19 in the latter.

He even ventured into European competition with Stal in the 1975-76 season, reaching the quarter-final of the UEFA Cup. In total, across his fourteen years with the club, he would appear in 272 league games, scoring no less than 111 goals from a wide position. Couple this with his achievements in 1974 and the fact that he also appeared in the following two World Cups as well, and the inevitable question arises as to why he didn’t move to a bigger club earlier in his career.

He eventually left Stal in 1982 to move to Belgium and K.S.C. Lokeren – reportedly after turning down an invite from no less a player than Pelé to move to New York Cosmos. It was hardly the ‘major club’ that his exploits up to that time may have suggested he would warrant, but the Polish League’s policy of prohibiting any of its players moving abroad until they were 30 years old, stymied hopes of a move to one of the continents mega-clubs.

Starved of the chance to demonstrate his skills in the continent’s biggest club competitions, Lato would have to satisfy himself by being his country’s shining light in World Cups. It was something he took full toll of in the 1974 tournament, and his exploits led to him being renown back home as ‘Ulubiony Piłkarz Polski’ (Poland’s Favourite Footballer).

It’s often been said that English football has an arrogance about it concerning the national team, and an inflated idea of their position in the world game, especially when compared to some Eastern European or Latin American countries outside of the duopoly of Brazil and Argentina. Such being the case, when called on to qualify for a World Cup Finals for the first time in a dozen years, there was plenty of positive expectation when Sir Alf Ramsey’s team was slotted into a group with Wales and Poland.

Despite a victory in Wales, a failure to defeat the same team at Wembley and a disappointing defeat to the East Europeans in Chorzow when Alan Ball saw red, meant only a victory over the Poles at Wembley in the final qualifying game would see England qualify.

All England fans of that particular vintage know what happened next of course, when despite a preponderance of attacking possession, a breakaway goal saw the visitors ahead and despite an equalising penalty from Allan Clarke, England couldn’t find the win and, whilst England stayed at home and waved goodbye to Ramsey, Poland went to Germany in their stead.

In reality however, that outcome should not have been a surprise. Understandably perhaps, the ‘golden glow’ of 1966 was still dazzling the eyes of the vast majority of England fans and, to a large extent, even the cognoscenti of football pundits in the country, blinding them to a less optimistic reality, that a more dispassionate reflection on form would have revealed.

Simply put, Poland were probably favourites to qualify from the group despite the fact that a home win in the last game of the group would have seen England home.

That game however was almost a perfect situation for the Poles. Not only was Kazimierz Gorski’s team set up to defend and hit on the break utilising the startling speed of Lato, Robert Gadocha and Jan Domarski, who netted the vital goal at Wembley, England came into the game full of bluster and over confidence after destroying Austria 7-0 a few months earlier. The circumstances played in to Polish hands.

The other factor that slipped past so many of the people expecting an English victory was that Poland were reigning Olympic champions, having secured the gold medal in Germany two years earlier, where a 22-year-old Grzegorz Lato made his bow in a major international tournament, gaining his third cap as a substitute. He would go on to make that figure up to 100 by the time he retired in 1984 having scored 45 times for the national team.

By the time the qualification for the World Cup rolled around, not only were Poland a mature and confident team, but Lato’s ability and goal scoring had also made him a fixture in the team. He had already netted a brace against Bulgaria in a Friendly, and then added another in the home qualifier against Wales. The 1974 World Cup would be the platform upon which he would announce his name to the footballing world.

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Poland were certainly not given an easy ride in West Germany, when they were pitched into Group Four, alongside the traditional powerhouses of Italy and Argentina, plus the unknown and little regarded minnows of the four, Haiti. It’s not stretching things too far to suggest that the ‘smart money’ would have the Azzurri and the Albiceleste fighting it out for top spot with the other as runner-up, Poland in third place and Haiti bringing up the rear.

For such expert opinions however, there was a reckoning to come, much as that endured by England supporters the previous year.

Facing the Argentines in Stuttgart on 15 June, Poland, and Lato in particular were about to display their prowess for all to see. Strangely forsaking their traditional red colours, Poland wore all white, and within ten minutes were two goals ahead.

As early as the sixth minute a corner from the left was flighted into the Argentine box. Seeking to come and collect, goalkeeper Carnevali bundled into one of his own defenders and spilled the ball. With instincts blaring, Lato was first to react and fire home.

What would become a familiar goal celebration, running and punching the air as he jumped with the locks from his prematurely receding forehead trailing, was displayed for the first time in a World Cup. It wouldn’t be long before the Poles struck again. Once more, Lato was at the centre of things.

The Argentines were trying to clear their heads after the early goal with some controlled possession, but a stray pass found its way to Lato just inside the Poland half of the field. Kicking in the afterburners, he surged at the heart of the defence, drawing defenders to him akin to iron filings attracted to a magnet.

Using the space created by the mayhem caused by Lato’s thrust, a run through the inside left channel by Andrzej Szarmach saw him clear on goal if only Lato could see, and then accurately deliver, the pass. It was never in question. Szarmach collected and closed in on Carnevali before firing past him to double the lead. Lato had struck at the Argentines twice in just over a minute.

After the frantic opening, things then settled down as Argentina probed and looked for openings within the Poland backline, but without avail, always being aware of the wing-heeled counterattacks that Lato and his team had in their locker. At the break the lead remained intact and coming out for the second period, Argentina surely knew that the onus was on them if they were to get back into the game, and if pressing further forward left gaps, it would be a gamble they may have to live with.

And so it was, with the Poles massed in defence that a Kempes pass to the left found Heredia, who hit from distance past Jan Tomaszewski to bring the South Americans back into the game. It wouldn’t take long however before another error from Carnevali would negate any hopes of a comeback.

Less than two minutes after Heredia’s strike, the Poles won a free-kick about 25 yards or so out from goal, and broadly level with the left edge of the penalty area. As Welsh referee Clive Thomas tried valiantly to encourage the Argentina defensive wall to retreat the requisite ten yards, skipper, Kazimierz Deyna, rolled the ball sideways for giant centre-back Jerzy Gorgoń to run forward and power in a shot. Although firmly struck it was almost straight at the goalkeeper and Carnevali coolly saved and then looked to begin an Argentine attack.

Throwing the ball out to his left however, he had reckoned without the razor-sharp wits of Lato. With anticipation as sharp as his feet were swift, he intercepted the ball and drove into the Argentine box. The angle was very tight however and a cross towards a supporting team-mate looked the best option. Instead, though, he lifted the ball over Carnevali and into the net. It was the decisive moment of the game.

Although Carlos Babbington pulled a goal back on 66 minutes, after the sort of goalmouth scramble that Tomaszewski had almost made his own at Wembley, the Poles held on for the victory, largely earned by Lato, and won out 3-2. At the same time, Italy were beating Haiti 3-1 after amazingly falling a goal behind.

Four days later, Italy and Argentina played out a 1-1 that really did little to enhance the qualification aspirations of either as at the same time Poland rattled no less than seven goals past the hapless Haitians, with Lato’s brace both opening and closing the scoring. It meant that Poland were clearly in the box seats on four points from their two wins, plus having a bumper goal difference.

The Argentines had a single point, but with Haiti to play and Italy had three points but had to face Poland in their last game. Lato’s four goals and assists had put his team onto the cusp of qualification. Avoiding defeat against the Italians would surely be sufficient to top the group. They would do better than that though.

On 23 June, Argentina duly despatched the Haitians 4-1 and Italy faced Lato and the rampant Poles. A late goal by Fabio Capello just five minutes from time did little to deflate the Polish joy as they cantered to a 2-1 victory to finish at the top of the group with a 100% record. The Azzurri went home with a bad case of the blues.

It was a remarkable performance given the strength of the opposition, but the Poles were a long way from thinking their journey was anywhere near over. In the next group stage, after missing out against the Italians, Lato would again enter centre stage.

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The second group phase placed Poland against Sweden, Yugoslavia and the hosts, with their last game being against West Germany. On 26 June, after the Germans had defeated Yugoslavia 2-0, Poland faced Sweden. It was game settled by the predatory instincts of Lato two minutes ahead of the break.

A cross to the far post was headed back across goal and reacting quicker than both goalkeeper and defender, Lato darted in to head home the only goal of the game. A penalty save by Tomaszewski in the second-half, diving to his left to deny Stefan Tapper, merely confirmed to the Swedes that it wasn’t to be their day.

Four days later, Poland faced Yugoslavia in what, to all intents and purposes, was a quarter final game. Victory would guarantee the Poles a chance to play West Germany in the last game with the prize being a place in the World Cup Final. At such times, a team depends on their big players, and Lato would not be found wanting in his country’s hour of need.

After 20 minutes of feeling each other out, a clumsy challenge in the Yugoslavia box saw Andrzej Szarmach tumbled and a penalty awarded by East German referee Rudi Glöckner. After much delay as the referee sought to keep players outside of the area, Kazimierz Deyna converted, firing low to the goalkeeper’s left.

The Yugoslavs were a more than decent team however, and if some thought the goal would see a collapse of the opposition, they were to be proved wrong.

A nine-goal victory over Zaire, coupled with draws against both Brazil and Scotland had seen them top their initial group, losing to the hosts in their opening game of the second phase, they knew that a further defeat would end their journey.

Just before the break, a neat piece of interplay saw Stanislav Karasi clear in the box. A cool sidestep around Tomaszewski opened the goal up, and he joyfully smashed the ball into the roof of the net. It was a goal of rare quality, and now Poland had it all to do again. It was time for Lato to make his telling contribution.

Just past the hour mark, a corner from the Poland left flank offered up the opportunity. Alive to the options, Lato made a run to the near post. The cross was flighted in perfectly for him to nod home. It set the Yugoslavs back in their tracks and needing to come from behind again. This time, they came up short. Later the same day, West Germany defeated Sweden 4-2 to set up the ‘winner takes all’ last game against Poland.

Due to their superior goal difference, a draw would be sufficient to get the Germans through to the final, but to do so, they would need to control the ebullient Poles and particularly their Mercurial striker, Grzegorz Lato. It was a game that promised so much, but in the end was largely decided by events outside of the capabilities of either team.

The whole tournament has been blighted by bad weather, with many games played out on sodden pitches, very much in contrast to the tournament in Mexico four years earlier, when a relentless sun illuminated the football. For this most important game ahead of the final however, the weather took on an even more intensely dark demeanour.

Up to that time, Poland had never beaten the Germans and the conditions seemed to conspire to maintain that record. Poland’s free-flowing and swift passing game was hardly going to be suited to a cloying surface, and their optimism, boosted by victories and goals, would surely have been dampened by the wet conditions.

Things got so bad that at one point it seemed likely that the game would need to be postponed, but with schedules dictated by television and money, that was never really an option unless it would prove impossible to play.

Just minutes before the scheduled kick-off, officials were seen throwing balls into the air, that then landed with a splash rather than bounced.

Delay was inevitable, postponement became increasingly likely, but the appointed referee, an Austrian named Erich Linemayr, insisted that the game would go ahead no matter what.

For the next half-hour or so, heroic efforts by ground staff with rollers, brushes, forks and other agricultural implements, assisted by local fire crew, did what they could and 31 minutes later than scheduled, with players’ nerves now frazzled by the delay and a crowd drenched by the downpour, the game got underway.

Although the playing surface had improved, it was a case of being in a slightly less bad condition, than actually being better. Both teams were compelled to forego any pre-game plans and adapt to the surface that almost precluded turning without slipping.

Play the way you are facing and keep the ball in the other half of the field seemed to be the dominant requirement. Anything more technical than that was waterlogged folly.

There’s little doubt that it was the Poles’ game plan that suffered more, but despite this they pressed the home defence with vigour. One occasion probably told them that this wasn’t going to be their day though. A goal-bound effort stopped dead in a pool of water in front of the German goal with the net gaping invitingly.

On any other day, the ball’s onward journey would not have been brought to such an abrupt halt. But on this Frankfurt summer’s day, it simply stopped and was cleared. Despite assistance from the pitch, Sepp Maier was still tested and by far the busier goalkeeper as Lato probed together with his team-mates. At the break however, the players retired to the dressing rooms to dry out with the scores level.

 

Into the second period though, the seemingly inevitable happened, a clumsy challenge by Wladyslaw Żmuda on Bernd Hölzenbein gave the Germans a penalty. Tomaszewski had already played his trump card by saving against Sweden from the spot in the previous game. He surely couldn’t do so again. Uli Hoeneß stepped up, but his effort was tame and again the goalkeeper, described as a clown by Brian Clough, proved Old Big Head wrong. It would be the last time a German player missed a spot kick in anything other than a shootout until Lukasz Podolski’s miss against Serbia 36 years later.

By now, the play had turned much of the wet surface into mud and any attempts at football were being beaten into submission. Play became increasingly scrappy, with chances few and far between. In such an environment Poland and their star striker, despite outstanding form up to that point, were almost impotent and, with 15 minutes remaining, the seemingly inevitable happen

A chance fell to Gerd Müller, and the Der Bomber’s finish destroyed Polish dreams. A brave flurry at the end saw half-chances come and go, but Poland’s greatest ever team, and their Favourite Footballer were defeated.

Had conditions been more suitable for football, could the result have been different. Breitner’s remarks suggest it as a possibility, and later Franz Beckenbauer seemed to concur. “Under normal circumstances we probably wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

But on the day the circumstances were far from normal.” Lato himself remarked about the pivotal nature of the game in his country’s consciousness, claiming that “every school child in Poland knows this legendary game.”

Lato (left) at the 1974 World Cup during the Third and Fourth Place Play Off match against Brazil.

Poland would go on to take third place after defeating Brazil 1-0, thanks to yet another Lato goal. It would be the country’s best ever performance in a World Cup. They would again reach the last four in 1982, again taking the bronze medal, but despite that side having the talents of Zbigniew Boniek, it was probably an inferior team to the 1974 vintage.

Lato was still an important member of the squad but, now aged 32, his powers would have been on the wane.

In 2004, UEFA composed a list of the top 50 European players. It is both surprising, and yet unsurprising at the same time, that Grzegorz Lato failed to make the list. Surprising because here was a player who not only played in three successive World Cups, being the tournament’s top scorer once and twice finishing in third place, but also picked up gold and silver Olympic medals.

A number of players who made UEFA’s grade would have a much less successful career. Conversely though, his omission is hardly a surprise at all. Not only were Poland disregarded when facing England back in the qualifying tournament for the 1974 World Cup, their success since have also brought little real regard.

Whatever others feel about the career of Grzegorz Lato though, there is little doubt of the esteem with which he is held in his home country. That’s why he is heralded as Ulubiony Piłkarz Polski.

(This article was originally produced for the ‘Footy Analyst’ website).

Edited December 9, 20232 yr by erskblue

THE UNDERRATED GOALS OF MARIO ‘EL MATADOR’ KEMPES, THE MAN WHO WON ARGENTINA THE WORLD CUP

16/04/2019 by DAN WILLIAMSON 0

www.thesefootballtimes.com

 

Famed Uruguayan writer Eduardo Galeano poetically described Mario Kempes as “an unbreakable bronco who liked to gallop over the grass-carpeted in a snowfall of confetti, his shaggy mane flying in the wind,” in Soccer in Sun and Shadow. For football fans of a certain vintage, the image of Kempes celebrating his goals in the 1978 World Cup final will be indelibly seared onto their brains.

After a relatively slow start, the number 10 emerged as the undoubted star of the tournament, won by host nation Argentina against a backdrop of fear and military repression.

His two goals in the final guaranteed a modicum of revenge over the Netherlands, following the 1974 World Cup humiliation, and briefly papered over the cracks for a government teetering on the brink of collapse. 

Mario Alberto Kempes Chiodi was born in July 1954 in Bell Ville, a small agricultural town approximately halfway between the cities of Córdoba and Rosario, Argentina’s second and third largest.

Fittingly, Bell Ville is renowned for manufacturing footballs – boasting more than a dozen dedicated factories – and therefore it’s perhaps only natural that Kempes would choose the path he so successfully did.  

His first club was Instituto, located in Córdoba, with whom he debuted as a 16-year-old in 1973. The club’s distinguished academy also produced Ossie Ardilesand, more recently, Juventus’ Paulo Dybala. After a short but prolific stay with La Gloria, Kempes headed the 400km down Ruta 9 to join Rosario Central. 

Three years in La Canalla’s classic blue and yellow stripes gleaned little collective success – a runner-up spot in the 1974 Nacional the most successful league campaign – but allowed Kempes to emerge as a fearsome goalscorer.
 

He finished as top scorer in the championship with 25 strikes in as many games, accounting for just shy of 50 percent of his team’s overall output. A further 21 goals were plundered in 33 appearances during the 1976 Metropolitano. 

During his time at the Gigante de Arroyito, Kempes was selected by national team manager Vladislao Cap for the 1974 World Cup in West Germany. The player, who would become affectionately known as El Matador, made his international debut in 1973 and, just a year later, would appear on the grandest stage of all despite still being a teenager. 

His international form going into the tournament promised much, with four goals in three games against European opposition, as Argentina prepared for the finals. Kempes started all three group games in the first phase but, crucially, Argentina were only able to finish in second place behind Poland. It was in the fixture against the Poles that an inexperienced Kempes missed a key chance that could’ve altered the game – and the course of Argentina’s tournament. 

The punishment was being drawn in a tough group alongside Brazil, the Netherlands and an East Germany side that created history in the first phase by beating West Germany 1-0 in Hamburg. Kempes started the first match, against Johan Cruyff’s Netherlands, on the bench and was brought on after just 45 minutes with the Dutch already two goals to the good. Cruyff’s second of the night, and Johnny Rep, completed the 4-0 rout. 

Kempes started the second game, against eternal rival Brazil, but was taken off at half-time. Argentina lost the game 2-1, and a 1-1 draw with East Germany in the final match sealed their exit from the tournament. 

Argentina of the mid-1970s was a football nation without an identity to be proud of. The drubbing at the hands of the Dutch Totaalvoetbal machine in 1974 had as a seismic impact as the defeat to Czechoslovakia at the 1958 World Cup in Sweden, which brought the curtain down on the so-called La Nuestra period.

The match against the Netherlands highlighted the negative path that Argentina had trodden since the Helsingborg debacle, and change was needed. The result was the appointment of Huracán boss César Luis Menotti, who was tasked with bringing flair back to the side ahead of the 1978 World Cup, something which he would do with aplomb. 

In 1976 Kempes joined Spanish outfit Valencia, immediately winning the coveted Pichichi award – one of only four Valencia stars to do so – with 24 goals in 34 appearances as Los Che narrowly missed out on UEFA Cup qualification.

In the campaign leading up to the 1978 World Cup, Kempes retained his Pichichi crown and netted 39 goals in all competitions as Valencia finished fourth and qualified for Europe. His form going into the World Cup couldn’t have been any hotter. 

The quality and profile of Kempes led coach Menotti to abandon his policy of only selecting domestic-based players for the home-soil tournament. Five years after his debut for La Albiceleste, the stage was set for him to shine. 

Perhaps it was understandable nerves, the weight of expectations from an under-fire military regime, and a population in need of a morale-boosting lift that caused Kempes to start the tournament slowly. Wearing the coveted number 10 shirt, and occupying a central attacking midfield role, Kempes initially struggled in the first group stage, with all games played at River Plate’s El Monumental. 

La Albiceleste beat both Hungary and France 2-1, but then lost 1-0 to Italy. The second-place finish in Group A sent Argentina away from their supposed Buenos Aires stronghold to Rosario.
 

What seemed initially like a curse, especially for Kempes, ended up being a blessing. Back where he spent three years as a player, El Matador came to life in Rosario, away from the stifling pressure of the capital.

 

In the opening game of the second phase, Argentina beat Poland 2-0. The absence of Leopoldo Luque, who had two first phase goals to his name, forced Menotti to push Kempes further forward.

The reward was a brace from the Valencia man, his first strikes of the tournament breaking an 11-match goal drought for the national team. 

The headlines weren’t all positive from the Poland game, however. With the game finely balanced at 1-0, Poland pushed for an equaliser and thought they had found it when Kempes prevented a Grzegorz Lato header finding the net with his hand. Thankfully for El Matador, Ubaldo Fillol came to his rescue and saved the resulting spot-kick from Kazimierz Deyna. Kempes remained on the pitch and was able to settle the tie with his second goal. 

Writing his World Cup reflections in August 1978’s edition of World Soccermagazine, Brian Glanville was scathing in his condemnation of Kempes’ handball and reproduced a quote from Sir Stanley Rous, the former referee and president of FIFA: “The player who handles the ball on the goal line and gives away a penalty which is missed may feel that he has lost nothing. He has. He has lost his reputation as a sportsman.” 

Argentina shared a goalless draw with Brazil in the next outing, and the Seleção’ssubsequent victory over Poland meant that Argentina approached the final game needing to defeat Peru by at least four goals to progress to the final.

In a game that has gone down in World Cup folklore, Argentina won 6-0 against a backdrop of intimidation, shady cross-governmental deals, and suggestions that Kempes and other players were “high”.

Kempes opened the scoring after 21 minutes, playing a one-two before outwitting the defender and finishing from 15 yards. Alberto Tarantino doubled the lead as Argentina led 2-0 at half-time. Kempes scored his second from close range just minutes after the break and, three goals later, Argentina had qualified for the World Cup final. 

Argentina were accused of all sorts of subterfuge before the opening whistle of the final. It seemed to work as Kempes slid the ball under the advancing Jan Jongbloed after 38 minutes to ensure Argentina led going into the interval at El Monumental, but Dick Nanninga’s header after 82 minutes forced extra-time.

After 105 minutes Kempes restored Argentina’s lead, displaying the balletic feet that were characteristic of several of his World Cup strikes, before benefitting from a lucky bounce.

With five minutes to spare, Daniel Bertoni sealed the deal, and Argentina were champions of the world. 

Despite the controversies, Kempes excelled as the tournament wore on, coming to life when it really mattered, the hallmark of any truly great player.

His pace and direct running from deep upset defences and led to him pick up the awards for top scorer as well as the tournament’s best player.

He was later also named South American Footballer of the Year for 1978, succeeding Zico and preceding compatriot Diego Maradona; fine company indeed.

The spectre of the military regime will, to some extent, always cast a shadow over the on-pitch success. Many players, Kempes included, have been questioned about their complicity in enabling the regime to use the World Cup as a propaganda tool to portray the image of a happy, vibrant country to the watching world.

Distancing himself from the suggestion, Kempes told The Observer in 2002: “Of course it was a difficult situation. I arrived on 8 May and left again on 15 July. I was practically never in Argentina during the time of the military regime. Within the camp we were playing for ourselves, and then for the people and then for Argentine football as a whole – that was our perspective.”

Following the World Cup, Kempes returned to the Mestalla where he would spend a further three years. Sixty-one goals and three trophies – the Copa del Rey, Cup Winners’ Cup and UEFA Super Cup – preceded a return to Argentina, with River Plate the destination.  

Diego Maradona, who by now had joined Boca Juniors from Argentinos Juniors, formed a formidable partnership with Miguel Ángel Brindisi at La Bombonera and their great rivals River Plate sought an antidote.

“By now River, still pissed off about my transfer, were looking to buy someone else, to calm the fans down,” wrote Maradona in his 2004 autobiography, El Diego. “

They chose well, repatriating my friend Kempes who had been playing in Valencia since the mid-70s. I was proud of that. I had always admired Kempes, and the fact that they made the effort to bring him back to Argentina on my account, to compete against me, made me feel important.”

Maradona’s Boca won the 1981 Metropolitano title, but River were glorious in the subsequent championship, the 1981 Nacional. It proved to be the only league title of El Matador’s career. River faced Ferro Carril Oeste in the final, the modest team that pushed Boca so hard in the Metropolitano. River won 1-0 in the first leg and, four days later, won the away leg by the same margin, the decisive goal coming from the boot of Kempes.

In 1982 the World Cup was hosted by Spain, a country Kempes knew well. He started all five of Argentina’s games in what was his third World Cup. From competing against Maradona on either side of the Superclásico divide, Kempes was now his teammate.
 

The duo helped La Albiceleste advance through the first phase, although a second-place finish – for the third successive World Cup – behind Belgium placed them in a tough group alongside Italy, the eventual winners, and the fabled Brazil side thought by many to be the best ever not to win the tournament. 

 

Argentina lost both fixtures and ignominiously crashed out, with Maradona sent off against Brazil with an act of frustrated petulance. The Menotti era was over and, with it, Kempes’ international career. In the wake of the tournament it would’ve been hard to imagine that, for Argentina, more World Cup success was just around the corner. 

The deteriorating economic situation in Argentina, which helped facilitate the demise of the regime, also led to the end of Kempes’ short stay with River Plate. He returned to Valencia, although his second spell at the Mestalla wasn’t as fruitful as the first, and after two seasons he was transferred to Hércules.

However, his legacy with Los Che was set in stone, enough so that he was heavily involved in their centenary celebrations in March 2019. 

Two seasons with modest Hércules ended his Spanish adventure, but instead of returning home to a newly democratic Argentina, he embarked on a curious six-year stint in Austria, before brief spells in Chile and Indonesia.

In 1992, after he’d finished in Austria, Valencia paid homage to Kempes with a fixture against PSV Eindhoven.

Fittingly, El Matador scored twice in the exhibition match. A succession of nomadic managerial posts in Indonesia, Albania, Venezuela, Bolivia, Italy, and Spain preceded a career in the media; Kempes now works an analyst and commentator for ESPN. 

Back home in Córdoba, in 2010, the stadium built for the 1978 World Cup was renamed in his honour. The Estadio Mario Alberto Kempes, more affectionately known to locals simply as the Kempes, occasionally plays host to the national team as well as the most high-profile games involving the city’s two biggest clubs. In Córdoba, Kempes is synonymous with football. 

In El Diego, Maradona suggests that Kempes isn’t given enough credit in his homeland, despite his exploits in 1978. Like Lionel Messi in the modern era, a possible explanation is that the peak of his career coincided with his time in Spain’s LaLiga. Although he won the only league title of his career with River Plate, his short stay in Argentina’s capital paled in comparison to his time with Rosario Central. And, aside from his two crucial goals in the final, his best form of the 1978 World Cup came away from the goldfish bowl of El Monumental.

His brilliance and potent goalscoring abilities brought a plethora of individual awards, but perhaps warranted more collective success during his club career. Considering he won the grandest prize of all, does anyone really care?

By Dan Williamson

On 21/02/2021 at 13:51, erskblue said:

JOHAN NEESKENS: MORE THAN JUST THE OTHER JOHAN

30/10/2018 by PRIYA RAMESH.      www.thesefootballtimes.co.uk

July 3, 1974: crowds throng the Westfalenstadion in a match between two immensely talented sides.

A match whose victor would face the host nation in a quest to etch their names into the history books indelibly; to hold and cradle the newly-commissioned, fresh-from-the-workshop, five-kilo golden baby that was the World Cup.

A few minutes into the second half, and with a free kick swiftly taken, a wavy-haired and wiry youngster speeds off with the ball, relaying it on to his teammate who sends it back in his path from the right wing. For a second he does not believe he will reach it – it’s played in front of him and there’s a defender challenging. As pathetically poetic as it sounds, he’s never been one to flinch away from an insurmountable task; never one to give up the chase. So he slides. Stretching his foot as far as he can, the contact he hopes for is achieved. One strong touch is all it takes for the ball to rise up, beyond the goalkeeper and in a perfectly-planned trajectory, and drop into the goal.

The scorer of that lob was, of course, Johan Neeskens.

It’s instinctive of almost everyone you meet on the street to associate Total Football and the Dutch golden 70s with Johan Cruyff. He won accolades with his teams as well as individually, and according to many people, single-handedly revolutionised the sport forever. His level of artistry and skill combined with on-pitch omnipresence and efficiency was largely unprecedented in football and the world stood mesmerised upon the arrival of this footballing Messiah.

Yet Total Football, as Rinus Michels envisioned it and his teams executed it, was not just all flash and feints. As yet another manifestation of duality is found in nature, there was another side to the astounding creativity with the ball in Michels’ philosophy, and that was the almost-maniacal, ruthless pressing and harassing when not in possession. To put it into lesser words, if Cruyff was the yin that exemplified the former, Johan Neeskens was the yang that exemplified the latter.

Neeskens was not a product of the famed A**x youth system, instead he was a rough diamond extracted from Racing Club Heemstede in 1970, an addition who would complete the jigsaw as Michels tried to achieve European glory, having already been pipped to the honour of being the first Dutch club to do so by Ernst Happel’s Feyenoord the year before.

The 19-year-old right-back was a revelation for the team and the manager, as his tenacity and ferocity in duel fitted in perfectly with the vision of sweeper Velibor Vasović as well as Michels’ attempt at forming a functional offside trap.

An indefatigable runner, Neeskens was then pushed higher up the field by Michels, who recognised that his instinctive harrying of opponents could be a trigger for the entire team to move up-field with him and capitalising on a key Dutch concept in space. By making themselves more compact, the team made the pitch smaller, reducing the opponents’ variety of options and limiting their mobility. Sjaak Swart once quipped that Neeskens could “play for two in midfield”.

Generally tasked with being more of a destroyer at A**x, even the great Eusébiofaded into the background as this “kamikaze pilot” – as Bobby Haarms described him – rose in influence and intimidated legends into anonymity. However, that was not the end of Neeskens’ ability and work on the field.

In the aforementioned match against Brazil, Neeskens played in a midfield trio with two Feyenoorders in Wim Jansen and Wim van Hanegem and was given the task of pushing the Brazilian back line – who were not prepared for a collective tactical challenge – as far back as possible. In fact, Neeskens was almost playing up top by himself, as he was frequently found to be furthest forward, keeping the Brazilian defenders occupied, such that there were acres of space left in midfield for the roaming Cruyff and Van Hanegem to weave their magic in.

There was a certain uniqueness about the way Neeskens went about his game. He had an aggressive yet committed swagger about him; it was a gladiatorial aplomb. It perhaps comes as no surprise that in Spain this quality is perfectly captured in a picture of Neeskens standing over the rolling and writhing Paul Breitner in El Clásico circa 1975. It is almost entirely reminiscent of a predatory bull prodding and pawing the ground, snorting down at its suffering prey. Indeed, it comes as no surprise that Neeskens was nicknamed El Toro in Spain by the Barcelona faithful.

The Dutchman had a never-say-die attitude on the field which resonated as loud as a siren in his play. His style of play was all-out, high-octane and with little care for his own safety or the opponents’ in a bid to make his team win. He was advised by every coach he ever had – Michels included – to tweak his game such that it was not so demanding and he could reduce the chances any lasting damage or injury. But the man did not flinch, later saying he lived his life the same way: “When I walk onto the field, I always want to win and get the ball – I am not concerned about myself.”

This is perhaps what stood out most about the man from Heemstede on the pitch. Forget tactics, forget footballing ideologies, forget systems: if you watched him knowing zilch about his team or the man himself, you too – as millions did – fell in love with the way he seemed to be a fan in a player’s body, with unparalleled commitment to the cause and irrepressible energy in fighting to win the ball.

Consequently, Neeskens enjoyed a cult status amongst the fans wherever he went and was revered at every club he played for. Girls adored him for his rock star looks and long, wavy, dirty-blond hair, and olive-coloured eyes. But people of all backgrounds, genders and occupations were unanimously enamoured by his charming and infectious passion on the field, how he seemed to be an embodiment of spirit and could give as good as he got.

Many modern-day fans seem to look upon Total Football as an innovation of Cruyff’s, whereby he invented the entire idea and made it happen with Michels. While he did effectively orchestrate a large part of it and made things happen on the pitch, in all honesty, none of it would have been possible to the extent it has been if he had not had such players around him – every single one of whom embodied the crux of the Total Football ideology.

A consequence of the god-like reverence Cruyff receives as being the ‘Total Footballer’ is the fact that many geniuses in the A**x and Dutch teams in the early-1970s have gone criminally underrated and unheralded. There is still a sizeable number of people in the Netherlands who believe Wim van Hanegem was just as good as Cruyff, but much better defensively, making him more complete than the Dutch legend.

Hence, ‘Johan Segon’ (Johan the Second, as Barcelona fans called him; Johan the First’s identity is rather obvious) was not merely a cold-blooded, ruthless destroyer. He was also one of the most complete midfielders football has ever seen. He is, perhaps, the first real proponent of what we have now become accustomed to as the box-to-box midfielder role.

Every player in those teams was a Total Footballer in his own right and Neeskens was one of the most all-rounded; he could be fluid and operate in any part of the pitch while retaining key elements of his game as well as his fundamental technical abilities of extraordinary ball control as well as heading. Neeskens also held an extremely respectable goal tally for club and country, renowned for his powerful shot. His passing was by no means sub-par and he set the bar high for future midfield generals with his ability to dictate the tempo of games.

However, for the larger part of Neeskens’ career, he remained perpetually in Cruyff’s shadow. El Salvador only came into his absolute peak as Neeskens started operating directly behind him. Neeskens followed him into the Dutch national team, and was prized at the personal request of both Cruyff and Michels to sign for Barcelona. They realised that he was absolutely vital to Cruyff’s success, and that they needed Neeskens to strong-arm opponents and create space. Neeskens was the George Harrison to Cruyff’s John Lennon.

He followed his more illustrious colleague across the Atlantic too, but he signed for New York Cosmos while Cruyff signed for the Aztecs. Sadly for Neeskens, he was unable to find substantial success in the States. The Heemstede-born man with rock star looks started to fall to rock star ways in America, with addictions to alcohol, cocaine and gambling plaguing his life for a significant period.

In 1981, Neeskens – not even 30 at the time – was desperately trying to keep his head above the waters of the River Lethe. He had missed a team flight to a conference final in Los Angeles and had consequently been indefinitely suspended by coach Hennes Weisweiler. Meanwhile, Dutch qualification for the 1982 World Cup was on the rocks and they needed a spark – any spark. Kees Rijvers decided to travel to New York to see how Neeskens was doing and

Manager Kees Rijvers decided to travel to New York to see how Neeskens was doing and said he would give Neeskens a start versus neighbours Belgium if he could keep his fitness in shape. As a result, there was a lanky figure of a man running up and steps in the stadium every afternoon, trying to improve his stamina. He needed no training for the tackles, they were second nature.

Indeed, in late 1981, he was due for his return in the vibrant orange of his nation. Tickets sold out, and fans travelled from thousands of miles just to get a glance of their beloved star again. The Dutch team soon burst out of the tunnel at Feyenoord’s legendary De Kuip stadium to a rousing cheer by the fans but it quickly subsided as their eyes scanned for the unmistakable light-brown hair and olive eyes. “Where is Johan?” Confusion took over as emotions conglomerated in a turmoil of disappointment, betrayal, anger and denial. Where was the man of the evening?

A few minutes later, they got their answer as sprinting onto the field was the wiry midfielder. The concrete in the stadium was shaken as the thousands inside screamed out their voices to a hoarse whisper. “Johan! Johan!” In that precise moment, it was perhaps not at all hard to believe that the Johan there was of the Neeskens type and not Cruyff.

Yin and yang are often seen as dichotomous entities but more often than not they are complementary.
Cruyff’s yang of beauty and skill required Neeskens’ yin of tackling and creating space, and Neeskens’ yin needed Cruyff’s yang to be fully aware and capitalise on the space he created, such that the team benefits.

The dichotomy here is false, though. Yin and yang are entirely complementary and, in fact, work in tandem to create a system where the whole is larger than the sum of its parts; the very essence of Total Football.

By Priya Ramesh @Priya8Ramesh

 

He won the European Cup with A**x in 1971, 1972, 1973. European Cup Winners Cup in 1979 with Barcelona.
49 Full International Caps and a World Cup Runner Up in 1974 and 78 with The Netherlands.
Opened the scoring in the 1974 Final.

Sad news yesterday of his death☹️

On 08/10/2024 at 06:31, erskblue said:

Sad news yesterday of his death☹️

I always preferred Neeskens over Cruijff, and rumour has it, so did the women in Barcelona 😁

Wee reminder, in case anyone wants a read!

GERRY HITCHENS: ENGLAND’S OUTCAST SUPERSTAR WHO SPENT MOST OF HIS CAREER IN ITALY

Posted : May 2019 www.thesefootballtimes.com

Since its establishment over a century ago, Italy’s Serie A has welcomed players from around the globe. From Albania to Wales, hundreds of players have gleefully made the journey to pastures new to live the Bella Vita. Well, most players. In the case of England, only 30 players have played in Italy, with the majority only lasting for a handful of seasons.

Despite the chronic English aversion to Serie A, there was one English player who fully immersed himself in the Italian experience, staying in Italy for nearly a decade. His name was Gerry Hitchens, and for some, he’s the superstar English football has forgotten.

Born in 1934 in the mining town Rawnsley, Staffordshire, Hitchens had a late start to his football career. Known locally as a boy with talent, it seemed for many years that it would go unnoticed. As Hitchens grew from boy to man, interest from professional clubs was virtually non-existent.

Perhaps sensing that his dreams would never come, Hitchens took up coal mining in his late teens in the hope of forging a decent wage. On the footballing front, he resigned himself to playing with the local side Highley Miners Welfare.

It wasn’t until the 1952/53 season, when Miners reached a county final, that Hitchens finally announced himself to the wider footballing community. During the game, Hitchens caught the eye of Ted Gamson, the secretary of Kidderminster Harriers.

Wasting little time, Gamson signed Hitchens up for the 1953/54 Southern Football League season amidst promises of first-team football and the opportunity to develop his game.

Initially, however, it seemed that such promises would amount to little with Hitchens languishing in the Harriers’ reserves. Over the course of nearly two seasons, the former miner only played 14 games for the first team, netting a respectable six goals. It wasn’t until a move to Welsh side Cardiff City in 1955 that it became apparent that Hitchens was a player with real talent.

Three minutes into his debut for the Bluebirds, Hitchens was off the mark. The next two seasons would see him become a regular feature in the starting line-up. Two campaigns with the club saw the striker bag 57 goals in 108 games, attracting interest from sides such as Wolves, Birmingham and Aston Villa.

Despite the fact that Villa had won the FA Cup the previous season, boss Eric Houghton knew that he needed a fast, goalscoring centre-forward. In December 1957, Houghton got his man when Cardiff accepted a £22,500 bid from the Midlands club. Within a week of moving to Villa, he was off the mark.

Forming a deadly strike partnership with fellow striker Peter McParland, Hitchens’ time with Villa is still remembered fondly by those lucky enough to have seen him play.

Four seasons would return a yield of 96 goals, the highlight being a five-goal haul in an 11-1 victory over Charlton in 1959. ( He played in the same Aston Villa team as John Neal.)

Unsurprisingly, the lethal Hitchens soon attracted the attention of the upper echelons of English football, and that is where his story truly took off.

Gerry Hitchins playing for England at Wembley.

In 1961, Hitchens received his first call-up to the England side and repaid the confidence shown in him with a goal just 90 seconds into his debut against Mexico.

Two weeks later, the Villa striker continued his run of form, scoring twice in England’s 3-2 victory over Italy in Rome.

Unbeknownst to Hitchens, his performance against the Azzurri had caught the eye of Internazionale, who bought the striker for £85,000 that summer.

It was the beginning of his Italian adventure and the end of his England career.

Explaining his decision to leave England for Italy, Hitchens told reporters at the time: “I wanted to see different places and play against different teams. A footballer’s life is short. My ability has taken me a long way from the pits. I want to see just how far it will take me.”

He wasn’t the only player to take the plunge either. Jimmy Greaves was at AC Milan, Joe Baker and Denis Law were at Torino but importantly, it was Hitchens who remained.

Continuing a trend begun with Cardiff, he scored two goals on his debut for Inter and in little time his performances for i Nerazzurri earned him the nicknames Il Cannone (The Cannon) and Il Principe del Gioco del Calcio (The Prince of Football) from the local media.

Despite fine form on the field, away from the pitch, Hitchens, like so many of his English counterparts, initially failed to settle into his new surroundings.

Inter’s policy of keeping players together a few days in advance of each match proved particularly difficult for the Englishman. Possessing little Italian, at least in the beginning, the containment policy effectively left Hitchens isolated.

Luckily, he found a kindred spirit in fellow Englishman Jimmy Greaves, then playing for bitter rivals AC Milan. The two would sneak out of training camps for drinks at a local Milanese train station. Remarkably, neither was ever caught.

Soon, however, Hitchens began to adapt to the Italian lifestyle and, according to biographer Simon Goodyear, became a superstar. Reflecting on his impact in Italy, Goodyear noted: “He and his wife were the Posh and Becks of their day.

He was the first Englishman to make his name in the country and the press followed him everywhere he went. His blond hair and light skin made him stand out and he became a very popular figure.

25th October 1961: Inter Milan beating Juventus 4-2 in Turin with Gerry Hitchens in action.

For fans of a certain age, he is well remembered. His name is near the top of the list of British exports, higher than Law. Maybe only John Charles stands above him.”

Unfortunately for Hitchens, attention in Italy rarely made its way across to English shores with the old adage out of sight, out of mind becoming increasingly true for the former miner. When the 1962 World Cup in Chile began, Hitchens hadn’t been selected for the Three Lions in over a year.

This was despite the fact that he had finished as Inter’s top-scorer. It wasn’t until a combination of injuries and losses in form that Hitchens was called up for a friendly against Switzerland in May 1962. A goal against the Swiss was enough to earn him a place in the final squad.

British footballers who play for Italian clubs (left to right) Gerry Hitchens, John Charles, Denis Law and Joe Baker training at Lesser Hampden for the Inter League match at Hampden. November 1961

That summer saw Hitchens feature twice for England as they crashed out of the tournament following defeat to Brazil in the quarter-finals, a match where he scored England’s only goal.

Aside from scoring at football’s biggest tournament, the World Cup was also important for Hitchens as it was the first time that the extent of his acclimatisation became fully apparent to his teammates. According to Goodyear: “When England went out to Chile for the World Cup, he packed 19 designer Italian suits.”

It was something that unsurprisingly left him standing out like a sore thumb amongst his English colleagues. Despite efforts to welcome Hitchens into the England squad with open arms, it was clear that their compatriot was different.

When, the following year, new England Manager Alf Ramsey made it clear that players playing abroad would not be considered for the international side, Hitchens’ England career was over.

By the time of Ramsey’s announcement, he had already moved to Torino, where he would spend two-and-a-half years, notching 28 goals in 69 games.

Hitchens on his debut for England v Mexico at Wembley. May 1961.

Soon after, Turin was traded for Bergamo, where he spent two years with Atalanta. Eventually, the English striker wound down his calcio adventure with a short stint in Sardinia before finally returning to home shores in 1969 for spells with Worcester City and later Merthyr Tydfil.

Hitchens’ eight seasons in Italy are the longest any English footballer has spent playing abroad in the professional era. During his Italian adventure, he managed 59 league goals in just over 200 games – but Hitchens was more than just a striker to the Italians. He was il Cannone, the miner with a special place in the hearts of football fans.

Whilst Hitchens’s time in Italy should have guaranteed him iconic status in English football as it did in Italy, his decision to “see just how far” his career would take him, ultimately made him a forgotten man at home.

By Conor Heffernan @PhysCstudy

GYULA GROSICS: THE REVOLUTIONARY BLACK PANTHER OF THE ARANYCSAPAT

21/09/2015 www.thesefootballtimes.co

NEUER, VALDÉS, MENZO, GATTI AND JONGBLOED all mastered the art of the sweeper keeper; proactive goalkeepers that charge out of their box to intercept through balls from attacking teams, clearing the ball before the opposition form their attack. ( I would add Ray Clemence to those original five goalkeepers.)

They’re ‘keepers who are just as adept with the ball at their feet as outfield players, capable of building up play from deep and doing the job that an old fashioned sweeper would have done. Bayern Munich’s Manuel Neuer is the modern evolution of this style, with his performance against Algeria in the 2014 World Cup perhaps the best example of a sweeper keeper football has ever seen.

The man who developed the sweeper keeper style – and indeed innovated the goalkeeper position itself – is often forgotten in history, despite playing in one of the most fabled teams in football, the Mighty Magyars of Hungary. His story is as unique as any in the history of football, and is typical of the hardships and political pressure faced by many players in the former Eastern Bloc under communist rule.

This man is Gyula Grosics, the first genuine sweeper keeper.

Born into a mining family on 4 February 1926 in Dorog, Hungary, Gyula Grosics’ upbringing did not look like the kind that would produce a goalkeeping prodigy. In fact, it didn’t look to have anything to do with football whatsoever. At the behest of his mother, Grosics spent his younger years training to be a Catholic priest, and only pursued football when local team Dorogi Bányász called him up to play, with the normal goalkeeper called up to war.

It would be a decision that would alter Grosics’ life forever. Grosics himself would later serve in World War Two, fighting for the Axis powers, with Hungary officially joining them in 1940. Hungarians in World War Two largely fought against the Soviet Union, but Grosics was actually captured by US forces. Grosics had little love for the ideology of communism and the Soviet Union, and was captured while attempting to flee and defect to the West in 1949.

Grosics was put under house arrest, charged with treason and espionage, and was banned from playing for the national team for two years, having made his debut in 1947. The charges against the goalkeeper were eventually dropped, but the ban remained, eventually being reduced to one year.

During this time Grosics moved from club to club – as was customary in the Eastern Bloc – transferring from his local side Dorogi Bányász to MATEOSZ Budapest in 1947, then to Teherfuvar in 1949, before joining the state-favoured Budapest Honvéd in 1950, along with Ferenc Puskás, József Bozsik, Sándor Kocsis, Zoltán Czibor, László Budai and Gyula Lóránt as the Hungarian Sports Ministry concentrated its national team into as small a number of teams as possible, in order to improve cohesion at international level.

It was around this time that the Hungarian national team became the most dominant team in the world, with Grosics a key component. Effectively playing an attacking 3-2-1-4, with the back three spread wide, an increasingly mobile goalkeeper was needed, and Grosics was perfect for the role.

The Mighty Magyars arrived at the 1952 Olympic Games unbeaten for two years and continued their run, defeating Yugoslavia 2-0 in the final. The following year, the Aranycsapat took part in the Central European Championship, an early forerunner of the European Championship, and won the competition, defeating Italy 3-0 in the final with two goals from Puskás and one from deep-lying forward Nándor Hidegkuti.

This run set up what was billed in the press as the ‘Game of the Century’ in November 1953. The Magyars would face England at Wembley, where they had never been beaten by foreign opposition. In reality, England were a waning force, but the English didn’t know that. It would be Grosics’ coming out party.

Most know that the Hungarians embarrassed England at Wembley in 1953 – both technically and tactically – winning 6-3 and bamboozling England’s outdated W-M formation, with the deployment of Hidegkuti as a deep-lying forward – effectively a modern attacking midfielder – leaving the English defence with the classic conundrum of whether to step up and leave a gap in defence, or retain shape and allow Hidegkuti the freedom of the Wembley pitch.

Many also remember the classic goal scored by Puskás where he collects the ball in the area, evades England captain Billy Wright’s slide tackle by rapidly dragging the ball back, before firing past Birmingham City’s Gil Merrick.

However, what is forgotten is the performance of Grosics; he introduced England to a new style of goalkeeping, one that was proactive and more about judgment than about getting your angles right. It couldn’t have been more different to the approach of Merrick and other British goalkeepers at the time.

The English confusion towards Grosics is best exemplified by the response of commentator Kenneth Wolstenholme when Grosics charges out of his box to meet a pass by England’s Jimmy Dickinson and clears the ball with impeccable timing. Unsure of what he’s just seen, Wolstenholme simply says, “Unorthodox, but effective.”

When discussing his own style Grosics was a little vague, highlighting the importance of timing and the relationship between the goalkeeper and the defence, perhaps because his ability to read passes and step up to meet them before the opposition attackers was simply something inherent in him, something that is difficult to explain.

The Hungarian was an odd character. As brilliant as his performance at Wembley was, he asked to be substituted nine minutes before the final whistle, blaming an injury that he had suffered 15 minutes earlier. It is highly possible that this injury never existed – Grosics was a self-confessed hypochondriac.

The 6-3 defeat led to a rematch in Budapest in May 1954, mere weeks before the World Cup. England would yet again be embarrassed by Hungary, with the score finishing 7-1.

It remains the Three Lions’ heaviest ever defeat. There was no need for another rematch – Hungary were the dominant team in the world, heading into the tournament that many believed would officially crown them as such.

As the best team in world football, unbeaten in four years, it was difficult for them to be anything other than favourites. They eased through their first game match against South Korea 9-0, before demolishing West Germany 8-3 in their second game – although the West Germans played a significantly weaker team and repeatedly fouled Ferenc Puskás, leaving him with an injury that would keep him out until the final.

The quarter-final was played against Brazil in what ended up being a brutal 4-2 win by the Hungarians, with many cynical fouls being perpetrated by both teams. The referee commented that both teams had behaved “like animals”. Still, Hungary were through to the semis to face Uruguay, the defending champions from 1950.

The match finished 4-2 and, in direct contrast to the previous round, has since been labelled one of the best World Cup games of all time, with both sides playing flowing, attacking football. This put the Magyars through to the final, where they would again face West Germany in Bern.

To place perspective on the relative standings of both teams, it must be remembered that the Hungarians were unbeaten for four years and were the undoubted best team in the world. The West Germans didn’t even have their own league yet. Hungary also had their best player back – Ferenc Puskás would play, although he clearly wasn’t fully fit.

It was Puskás who opened the scoring in the sixth minute. Two minutes later, Hungary were two up through Zoltán Czibor. It looked as if the coronation was merely a formality. However by the 18th minute, West Germany had drawn level at 2-2, with Grosics claiming he had been fouled for the equaliser. In the 84th minute, West Germany scored again to lead 3-2.

Puskás then scored what he, and indeed many other people, felt was the equaliser minutes later, but it was ruled out for offside, a decision that Grosics insisted was incorrect. The final whistle blew and the “unbeatable” Magyars had lost. West Germany had won the World Cup.

It remains one of the biggest shocks in football history, told in Germany as the ‘Miracle of Bern’. The Aranycsapat, the Golden Team, who had been the pride of Hungary and an outlet for national pride, were stunned. The communist leader of Hungary Mátyás Rákosi, who had indicated in no uncertain terms that Hungary must win the World Cup, was furious.

The Hungarians would travel back from Switzerland by train. However this would be no normal train journey. The train was stopped and the players were all taken to a dinner with the leaders of the country, and Rákosi in particular.

Rákosi said that the players needn’t worry, that there would be no consequences as a result of the defeat. Grosics knew what this meant: there would be consequences, and it would tear the team apart.

Being the goalkeeper and therefore the scapegoat in football history, Grosics was blamed for the defeat having been beaten three times. The debatable decisions were not taken into account, and Grosics bore the full brunt of communist tyranny.

On his return to Hungary, he was detained, interrogated, and taken to a military hearing, where he was told that he was under suspicion for espionage, a charge which carried the death penalty.

There was no evidence whatsoever to charge Grosics with espionage but he remained under house arrest and was exiled to Tatabánya, a mining town. Grosics had come full circle. Weekly, he was taken away for interrogation by the authorities.

When the Honvéd players such as Puskás, Czibor and Kocsis managed to escape in 1956 as the country descended into chaos and attempted revolution, Grosics was left behind, having been transferred to Tatabánya Bányász.

Grosics was active in the 1956 Hungarian Revolution – he was right there with the protestors when the Soviet Union forces opened fire on them in the counter-revolution, and he allowed rebel forces to use his house in order to store arms.

Grosics continued to play for the national team, representing Hungary at the 1958 and 1962 World Cups, but by then, the Mighty Magyars had fallen apart, declined or defected, and Hungary were no longer the force they had been from 1950 to 1954.

He attempted to move to Ferencvárosi, a club renowned for their Hungarian nationalism, in 1962, but the move was blocked by the Sports Ministry. In protest, Grosics retired as a player and football lost a true pioneer. In total, the stopper made 86 appearances for the national team and 390 in Hungary’s First Division.

In 2008, Grosics was finally given the chance to play for Ferencvárosi, taking the kick-off at 82 in a local league match. FC Tatabánya – the modern name for Tatabánya Bányász – have since named their stadium after him. He was a respected figure and featured in many interviews about the Aranycsapat and teammates such as Puskás.

Gyula Grosics died in 2014 aged 88, a rebel both in terms of his politics and his play on the pitch. He revolutionised the position of goalkeeper and set in motion a chain of events that would lead to goalkeepers such as Manuel Neuer and Hugo Lloris playing higher up the pitch than many of their peers.

Florian Albert: Footballer whose stylish talents lit up grounds around the world

Albert, left, goes for goal in Hungary's 3-2 win against Sweden at the Nepstadion, Budapest in 1959 (EPA)

Florian Albert, the 1967 European Footballer of the Year, was a sporting aristocrat. Not by any mere accident of lineage – he was born the son of a farmer/blacksmith on the Hungarian side of the border with the former Yugoslavia – but by dint of a decade and a half of oozing style and elegance in the shirts of his sole club, Ferencvaros, and his country, where they know a thing or two about exceptional players.

Albert grew up idolising Ferenc Puskas, the unarguable star of the Magyars who taught England a thing or two about the game by annihilating them twice in the early 1950s, yet he became more naturally the heir of the Galloping Major's infinitely subtle team-mate, Nandor Hidegkuti.

As England's finest were put to the sword so ruthlessly it was the deep-lying centre-forward Hidegkuti who pulled the strings, and later Albert would succeed him as a goal-scoring schemer sublime.

The younger man, who scored 32 times in 75 internationals from 1959-74 and created countless chances for the likes of Lajos Tichy, then later Ferenc Bene, was a destructive attacking wanderer capable of dictating the tempo of play.

His technique was exquisite, the accuracy of his passing was matched by its intelligence, he could shoot ferociously with either foot, he dribbled divinely and was a shrewd tactician.

His temperament was not perfect. There were days when, perhaps exasperated by the attentions of a close marker, he could appear moody, drifting on the fringe of the action.

Then his deceptively languid gait could give the false impression that he didn't care – but when he dominated a contest, he offered unalloyed delight.

Albert, who lost his mother when he was two, then moved to Budapest, was outstanding from boyhood and was associated with Ferencvaros, the capital's most successful club, from the age of 11.

He played for Hungary's junior team on his 16th birthday, made his senior debut for Ferencvaros a year later and earning his first full cap in a 3-2 victory over Sweden a week after completing his school exams in 1959.

Florian Albert scores for Hungary against England in the Group Stages of the 1962 World Cup.

Soon Albert became an irresistible force, helping to win the title in 1963, '64, '67 and '68 and the main domestic knock-out competition in 1972, and topping the national scoring charts in three seasons.

In 1964-65 he shone as the Green Eagles beat Juventus in the final of the Inter-Cities Fairs Cup, having disposed of Manchester United over three games in a replayed semi-final.

Internationally, he was a colossal achiever, a central figure in Hungary's rebuilding after an exodus of leading players in the wake of the uprising of 1956. He collected a bronze medal at the Rome Olympics in 1960, and with four goals he was joint top scorer as the Magyars reached the World Cup quarter-finals in Chile in 1962.

He touched his most opulent form when Hungary reached the last eight again in England in 1966, and he was influential as his country finished third in the European Nations Cup in 1964 and fourth in 1972.

Albert is best remembered in England for his sumptuous display in the 3-1 beating of champions Brazil in a group match at Everton in July 1966.

On a sodden Merseyside afternoon, the tall, slim play-maker glittered, playing a part in all three goals, most unforgettably in the second, when he freed Bene to set up Janos Farkas for a savage volley.

The local fans chanted "Albert, Albert" as he walked off at the end.

In recognition of his sustained splendour, he beat the holder, Bobby Charlton, to the Ballon d'Or of 1967, and remains Hungary's only winner.

He retired in 1974 after scoring more than 250 goals in around 350 league games for Ferencvaros, and in 2007 the club named their stadium after him.

After his playing days he managed Al-Ahly Benghazi in Libya then returned to Ferencvaros in several capacities, including technical director. His son, Florian Jnr, also played for Ferencvaros and Hungary. Albert died of complications three days after heart surgery.

Florian Albert played for Ferencvaros 1958-74. He was the 1967 European Footballer of the year.

He was capped 75 times by Hungary 1959-74.

REMEMBERING ROB RENSENBRINK: THE OVERLOOKED DUTCH MASTER WHO CAME WITHIN INCHES OF IMMORTALITY

27/01/2020 by STEVEN SCRAGG

From the outside looking in, it’s a strange concept, but just how close the Netherlands came to winning the 1978 World Cup hasn’t left too noticeable an imprint on the national psyche, or at least certainly not in the same way as the failure to prevail in 1974 has.

Rob Rensenbrink came to within the width of an Estadio Monumental goalpost from pure footballing immortality. An inch further to the right and the Oranje would have become the sixth different winner of the World Cup, rather than Argentina.

Rensenbrink would have joined a special collection of players to have scored a World Cup-winning goal, and he would have finished the tournament as its leading scorer.

By the finest of margins, Rensenbrink was deflected away from immortality, as he instead – arguably so – drifted into a world of under-appreciation in his home nation. Apart from in the Low Countries of Belgium and the Netherlands, and among football hipsters the world over, Rensenbrink is widely forgotten.

He is a peculiarity. Strikingly gifted with skill to burn, he was blessed with a wonderful left foot and bewitching close-control which saw him drift past defenders as if they weren’t there.

He had an ability that sprang from a dribbling style which gave him the rare propensity to be able to take a ball right into the face of opposing defenders before changing direction at the last second.

Unpredictable, dangerous and, at his peak, impossible to play against, he should be far from forgotten.

Born in Oostzaan, almost nine miles to the north of Amsterdam, Rensenbrink slipped through the prolific A**x net, instead finding his way into football with city rivals DWS. Essentially on an amateur footing despite gracing the top flight, and enjoying occasional forays into the Inter-Cities Fairs Cup, DWS were never likely to contain Rensenbrink’s talents for a prolonged period.

In the summer of 1969, at the age of 22, a year after making his international debut, it was the ideal time for Rensenbrink to move on from DWS.

The inexorable rise of A**x had gained pace, having just contested their first European Cup final, while their bitter rivals Feyenoord, who had won the Eredivisie title, were just a year away from going one better in the 1970 final against Celtic.

While A**x had been interested observers in Rensenbrink’s development at DWS, they were a club blessed with an abundance of left-sided attacking options.

Favouring a position on the left-hand side of the forward line, yet equally adept as an out-and-out left winger, Rensenbrink was under no illusions that A**x had the continually blossoming Johan Cruyff and the legendary Piet Keizer in the two positions he could occupy.

Feyenoord also monitored his progression and there were tentative inquiries. As reigning champions, however, they elected to rest on their laurels to an extent. The brilliant but slowly ageing Coen Moulijn, was deputised at times by the wonderful Wim van Hanegem.

Again, Rensenbrink would have had his work cut out to displace some formidable figures from the Feyenoord line-up. Yet, in retrospect, Rensenbrink would have been the perfect long-term successor to Moulijn.

In the summer of 1969, an entirely different path was taken by Rensenbrink – and he would never again kick a ball in competitive anger within club football in his homeland.

Frans de Munck, a former international goalkeeper for the Netherlands, had been appointed as the new coach of Club Brugge that summer, and spotting an opportunity to step in where both A**x and Feyenoord wouldn’t, he swooped for the services of Rensenbrink.

At the Stade Albert-Dyserynck, Rensenbrink took the change of environment in his skilful stride. The Brugge that Rensenbrink joined was essentially sitting upon the eve of greatness.

Their solitary league title had been won almost half a century earlier, but from the mid-1960s they had risen to become an increasing thorn in the sides of both Anderlecht and Standard Liège.

Scoring goals on a regular basis during his debut season in Belgium, Rensenbrink’s new club finished runners-up to Standard in the league and swept to domestic cup glory.

A near miss on the title followed in 1970/71, combining with a run to the quarter-finals of the Cup Winners’ Cup.

The summer of 1971 proved pivotal for Rensenbrink. Board member Constant Vanden Stock departed the club, only to resurface at Anderlecht. Utilising their friendship, Vanden Stock coaxed Rensenbrink to Brussels, from where he would go head to head with his former club for most of the domestic honours on offer throughout the remainder of the decade, as Standard fell away.

Brought in by Georg Keßler – the man who had given Rensenbrink his international debut – as part of a number of sweeping changes at the club, Anderlecht narrowly edged out Brugge in a tense battle for the title, and defeated Standard in the cup final to clinch the domestic double. 

Alongside his compatriot Jan Mulder and the Anderlecht legend Paul Van Himst, it was the added attacking potency this triumvirate provided to the team that enabled Rensenbrink to help break the hearts of all those involved with his former club, as his new employers took the title on goal difference.

It was a dream start to life with his new club. However, the following season proved a more difficult one, as Mulder jumped at the opportunity of a summer move to A**x, while Van Himst struggled for form.

It meant that Anderlecht relied on Rensenbrink’s talents far more than they had during the previous campaign. This was offset by the gradual emergence of another precocious talent in the shape of François Van der Elst.

An inconsistent start to the defence of their title and an early exit from the European Cup meant that Keßler departed the club before the year was out. Brugge swept to the title, and while collective form was hard to attain for Anderlecht, Rensenbrink was still scaling individual heights.

Despite their problems in the league, the cup was retained as once again Standard were beaten in the final.

Out of sight and out of mind, Rensenbrink was on the outside looking in when it came to the national team, despite his fine performances for Anderlecht. He hadn’t represented the Netherlands since departing DWS.

In his absence, and despite the elevated club performances in European competition of both A**x and Feyenoord, the Netherlands had failed to qualify for the latter stages of Euro 72.

Rensenbrink continued to apply himself to the Anderlecht cause. Under his new coach, Urbain Braems, playing alongside the prolific Hungarian striker Attila Ladinszky, and with the added support of the increasingly effective Van der Elst and the slowly ageing yet ever-dangerous Van Himst, Anderlecht reclaimed the title.

It was during the 1973/74 title-winning campaign that Rensenbrink made his return to the national side, initially recalled by František Fadrhonc, the man who led the Netherlands to World Cup qualification, before being replaced for the finals by Rinus Michels

Rensenbrink was viewed as the inside man, given that they were sharing a group with Belgium. When the two nations met in November 1973 in the decisive game at the Olympic Stadium in Amsterdam, the Netherlands knew a draw would be enough for them to reach the finals in West Germany.

Intriguingly, Rensenbrink was up against four of his Anderlecht teammates on a dramatic night when a combination of fine goalkeeping and profligacy in the penalty area kept the Belgian goal-line unbreached.

Controversy and drama abounded when, in the last-minute, Rensenbrink’s Anderlecht teammate, Jan Verheyen, stroked home what appeared to be a perfectly good winning goal. As the Netherlands defence stepped forward while defending a free-kick, Verheyen had been gifted the freedom of the penalty area.

Played onside by at least three defenders, his legitimate goal was erroneously disallowed.

By the finest of margins, the Total Football of 1974 might never have been given the opportunity to bloom.

In West Germany, Rensenbrink, for so long on the periphery of the national side, now took on a vital role. Michels opted to start him in all but one game, fielding him ahead of Piet Keizer.

Rensenbrink, not involved in the A**x-Feyenoord-PSV power struggle, was blessed with a remit of freedom that not everyone within the squad could match.

Some fine support performances, inclusive of a vital goal against East Germany during the second-round group stage, helped edge Michels and Cruyff towards the World Cup final.

When Rensenbrink was on the receiving end of some painful challenges during the de facto semi-final against Brazil, a game marked by the breathtaking football of Oranje, and the brutality of Brazil’s approach, he was forced to hobble away from Dortmund with huge doubts over his fitness for the final.

Despite passing a fitness test on the morning of the final, in the heat of battle within the Olympiastadion in Munich, Rensenbrink was noticeably off the pace. Had the Netherlands not yielded the early lead they took, then maybe he would have been given further time in the second half.

Trailing 2-1, however, Michels could afford no passengers and Rensenbrink was replaced by René van de Kerkhof. Had he been fully fit, it might have made the difference between success and failure.

Rensenbrink’s importance to the national team intensified over the next few years, helping them to the finals of Euro 76, where they were denied the opportunity to face West Germany in a rematch of the World Cup final by the eventual champions Czechoslovakia.

By the time Johan Cruyff walked away from the international game in the autumn of 1977, Rensenbrink had inherited the role of chief creator in the side that Ernst Happel took to Argentina.

Happel, coach at Feyenoord when they passed up the chance of signing Rensenbrink, deployed him on the left of a three-man forward line, in a loose adaptation of the formation his Feyenoord had won the European Cup with.

With Johnny Rep at the tip, Van de Kerkhof on the right, Rensenbrink to the left, and backed up in midfield by Johan Neeskens and Rensenbrink’s Anderlecht teammate Arie Haan, they were a side which lacked the conductor supreme in Cruyff, but instead produced a more balanced and direct variant of play that still embraced sublime vision and skill.

During the span of time between the World Cups of 1974 and ’78, Rensenbrink had cultivated a love affair with the Cup Winners’ Cup at Anderlecht. Molenbeek’s shock title win of 1974/75 was followed by a hat-trick of successes for Brugge.

While Anderlecht conspired against themselves domestically, in Europe they excelled.

The club reached the Cup Winners’ Cup final in three successive seasons, defeating West Ham in 1976, losing to Hamburg in 1977 and dismantling Austria Vienna a year later.

It was during this period that Rensenbrink attracted unfair criticism, that he would raise his game for the big occasions but become unreliable against the lesser teams.

Despite the title eluding them, Rensenbrink, alongside Haan and Van der Elst, made Anderlecht one of the most dangerous and feared sides in Europe. He scored twice in both the 1976 and 1978 finals, performances which enhanced his reputation and in turn raised expectancy levels.

In Argentina, he was in imperious form. A hat-trick against Iran was followed by further goals against Scotland and Austria. Combined with the drive and explosive finishing of Rep and Haan, the Netherlands rolled to the final. Rensenbrink came to within the width of the goalpost at El Monumental from pure footballing immortality.

At the age of 31, it proved to be a watermark moment. Within a year he had played his last game for the Netherlands, while his Anderlecht career ended in 1980 with what was essentially a trailing off, ending his playing days with short spells in the NASL and in France with Toulouse.

Rensenbrink, a man who never went into coaching, remains locked within that vivid moment when he hit the post with only seconds to go in the 1978 World Cup final.

He remains a man under-appreciated by many in his homeland, and one often forgotten by football generally. Regardless of that, he will always be a man who hypnotically owned the ball, one who so very nearly inherited the world.

By Steven Scragg

^ The Rensenbrink penalties were epic, commentators who know their stuff still refer to them. His goalpost shot is still a memory that makes the Dutch of a certain age curl up in the foetal position.

DRAGAN DŽAJIĆ: THE SERB LAUDED BY THE GAME’S BIGGEST LEGENDS

Published August 2017 www.thesefootballtimes.com

On the wrong side of retirement, in the pained days of forced leisure, memories can often be the most prized possession for the ex-footballer, as well as for those who shared in their treasured careers.

Some are best remembered by the compliments paid to them by their fans, those who gladly parted with their hard earned wages, week after week, just to watch them play in the flesh.

Some are reminisced over through the words of their coaches or managers, those privileged to have held within their ranks such unique and precocious talents.

And then there are the few whose most telling eulogies come in the form of the words spoken by their rival players, those who warranted a depth of admiration that even the heat of competition couldn’t wither.

For Serbia’s Dragan Džajić, his country’s greatest ever footballing talent, the most memorable commendation came from none other than Pelé. “Džajić is the Balkan miracle – a real wizard,” said the legendary forward, after the two did battle in 1968, “I’m just sorry he’s not Brazilian because I’ve never seen such a natural footballer.”

It was with good reason the man widely regarded as the most talented footballer in history had become so enamoured by the performances of Dragan Džajić.

It has been almost 40 years since Džajić played his last game – and 54 since he played his first – and still no player from his native Serbia has dazzled, deceived or delighted the world as effectively as he did with a ball at his feet.

Having signed for Red Star Belgrade in 1963, aged just 17, Džajić quickly became an instrumental part of an often insurmountable domestic machine.

In his first stint with Red Star – with whom his 12 successful seasons preceded a further two with Bastia in France before one final season-long salvo back in Belgrade – Džajić picked up no fewer than five league titles and four cups.

Barely a year after forcing his way into the team, Džajić was handed the first of his record 85 caps for the nation then known as Yugoslavia.

The quintessential number 11, deployed on his favoured left wing where he could reign supreme with his immense pace, incisive trickery and inspired left foot, Džajić quickly became an automatic choice for both club and country.

No single campaign better illustrates his influence than the one of 1968.

Having already helped Red Star to a league and cup double at home, Džajić travelled with the Yugoslavia squad to Italy to partake in the year’s European Championships. With only four teams participating – such was the fashion in the late 1960s – he and his countrymen were drawn against reigning world champions England in the semi-finals while hosts Italy took on the Soviet Union.

With the Italians through having drawn 0-0 with the Soviet Union, not by virtue of ab extra time winner or by a victorious penalty shootout. Instead it was a favourable coin toss.

Yugoslavia would instead book their place in the final thanks to their star man Džajić.

With 87 minutes on the clock, and their game also goalless, many feared the second of the two semi-finals may also be heading the way of the dreaded coin-toss.

Then Džajić received an incisive cross from the opposite wing which he controlled with his chest and allowed to drop to his feet.

Before any England player could react quick enough to avert the immediate danger, Džajić was already firing the ball over Gordon Banks and under the crossbar, scoring the goal that would carry his country into the final.

Back in England, the back pages of the national papers ran with the headline ‘The Magic Dragan’ in honour of the man who had sent their hopeful world champions home early.

In Rome, three days later, Džajić again played the role of the architect, constructing another lead for his team by beating Italian goalkeeper Dino Zoff with an impulsive prod home shortly before half time.

Sadly his team would surrender the lead late on, the game ending 1-1, and worse still would lose the replay 2-0.

Džajić may have been denied the European Championship title but he was paid some recompense in his placing third in the year’s Ballon d’Or, behind George Best and Bobby Charlton,a result that, though an honour itself, Germany defender Franz Beckenbauer, was said to have taken issue with, believing Džajić to be the rightful winner. 

Perhaps on account of his belonging to the ever retreating past of the beautiful game, or maybe as a result of his unerring commitment to remaining in the country of his birth for so much of his illustrious career

All too often Džajić’s name is met with a look of bemusement, present in so few discussions regarding the all-time legends of the game. 

But given his success in Serbia, his role in an unforgettable Red Star squad, and the part he played in taking Yugoslavia to within minutes of a European Championship win, Džajić certainly remains Serbia’s greatest ever footballer 

This footage of Dragan Dzajic gives a hint of just how good a player he was at his peak.

GUILLERMO STÁBILE: THE LAST OF THE GREAT ARGENTINE ROMANTICS

Originally posted July 2016. www.thesefootballtimes.com

Guillermo Stábile ran up the pitch, hoping for someone to pick him out.

As the ball came sliding across the surface, the Argentine striker latched on to it deep on the right side of the box.

Before anyone could react, he struck the ball across the face of the goal and into the bottom left corner.

Despite the claims of offside from Uruguayan captain José Nassazi, Stábile had given Argentina a 2-1 lead minutes before half-time in the 1930 World Cup final.

Their South American neighbours would eventually go on to score three goals in the second half due to a change of ball and become the first world champions.

Nevertheless, his first half goal had made Stábile the first recipient of the World Cup Golden Boot with eight goals in four matches, a total bettered only four times since.

That has been his claim to fame in footballing legend, but it is far from Stábile’s greatest accomplishment.

Born in 1905, Stábile grew up in Parque Patricios, a region in Buenos Aires undergoing social and housing regeneration during the early 1900s. From an early age his talent was apparent as he joined local youth club Sportivo Métan.

By 1920, he had shown enough promise to be picked up by Club Atlético Hurácan, and by 1924 he was promoted to the first team.

At the time, Hurácan was in its most successful phase having won the Primera División in 1921 and 1922. Stábile’s introduction to the team, initially as a right winger, would inspire the club from his local neighbourhood to two more league titles, in 1925 and 1928.

Known as the ‘Infiltrator’ for his goal-scoring ability, Stábile quickly established himself as a fan favourite with a 102 league goals in 119 appearances over six years.

Despite these scarcely believable statistics, Stábile was unable to get into an Argentine national team considered among the world’s best at the time.

They had won four South American Championships in the 1920s alone, as well as silver at the 1928 Olympics, which was the premier international competition of the time.

Going into the 1930 World Cup, Stábile managed to secure a spot in the squad but, in an era without substitutes, wasn’t expected to play any matches.

Following a narrow 1-0 victory over France in their opening match, Stábile was awarded a place in the team due to one of the strangest turns of luck.

Established legend Roberto Cherro, whose 1930 Primera División goal-scoring record would remain in tact for over seven decades, backed out of the tournament citing nerves.

Stábile started against Mexico in the second group match and did not disappoint. He scored the first, third and final goals in a 6-3 demolition job, becoming the first hat-trick scorer of the World Cup.

He followed up this performance with impressive braces against Chile in the final group game and the USA in the semi-final.

Stábile signed off the summer with the aforementioned goal against Uruguay, which would not be enough to secure the trophy for La Albiceleste.

It would also prove to be his last match for the national team, as his extraordinary performances had alerted Europe to his incredible talent. In an era when cross-continental scouting was near impossible, Stábile’s decision to leave Hurácan for Genova 1893 – now known as Genoa CFC – in 1930 ended his brief but spectacular Argentina career.

The closest Hurácan have come to winning the league title since his departure was their victory in the 1973 Metropolitano league.

The Infiltrator started his Italian league career as brightly as he had finished his Argentina one, with a debut hat-trick against league leaders Bologna.

However, it all went wrong from there.

Although Stábile continued to perform at a high level, serious injuries to his tibia and fibula in 1931 and 1933 derailed his playing career.

It is rumoured that Mussolini himself wanted to appoint Stábile to the successful Italian national team for the 1934 World Cup, but his injuries killed that possible opportunity.

His career fizzled out with his previous devastating form a distant memory, as he unable to revive it following a year-long spell at Napoli in 1934-35.

On the bright side, he was able to study coaching and management techniques during his long injury layoffs, and was even granted the title of co-manager during his second season at Genova.

In 1936, his Italian sojourn came to an end when Red Star Paris, the club of the legendary FIFA president Jules Rimet, offered him a player-manager position. It is believed in some quarters that Rimet himself was involved in the appointment.

Following a successful three years, which culminated in promotion to the top tier in 1939, the new idol of Paris returned to Argentina weeks before the outbreak of World War Two.

In 1940, he took up the managerial position at his boyhood club, Hurácan. Although he was unable to replicate the success the Parque Patricios club had achieved in the 1920s, his impact was significant.

Under his tutelage, the club survived the economic costs of the creation of the Estadio Tomás Ducó and new training facilities, which were completed in 1947.

Additionally, his careful management of youth players saw the emergence of some of the country’s best players, including a certain Alfredo Di Stefano in 1946.

When Stábile finally decided to move on during the 1948-49 season, Hurácan finished last and only retained their Primera División status through a playoff victory.

At the other end of the table, Stábile had finally found a club to match his ambitions as his new team, Racing Club de Avellaneda, won the league title. This was their first Primera División title since 1918 and their first league title since they won the dissident Asosiación Amateur championship in 1925.

Stábile repeated the trick in 1950 and 1951, making Racing Club the first Argentine team to win the tricampeonato, or three in a row.

However, as impressive as his management career at the club level had been, his true achievements came with La Albiceleste.

Even with political tensions heightening in the 1930s, Stábile had intended to stay in France.

That was until the national team came calling in 1939. Maintaining his position until the summer of 1960 – not including a year-long hiatus in 1959 – the Infiltrator proved to be an expert commander to the seemingly endless crop of Argentine talent.

In all, he won six South American Championships – the forerunner to the Copa América – and a Pan American Championship.

His victories can be split into two styles; the first based on River Plate’s famous La Maquina in the 1940s and the second on Los Carasucias in the 1950s.

La Maquina (The Machine) was the nickname given to the improbably talented and ruthlessly efficient team assembled by River Plate between 1940 and 1947.

The players primarily associated with the nickname were Juan Carlos Muñoz (39 league goals in 184 matches), José Manuel Moreno (156 in 256), Adolfo Pedernera (131 in 278), Ángel Labruna (293 in 525) and Félix Loustau (101 in 365).

They won four league titles, three domestic cups and three Campeonato Rioplatenese, held between the winners of the Uruguayan and Argentine leagues, in their seven years together.

Stábile made full use of this already established frontline to lead Argentina to victories in the 1941, 1945, 1946 and 1947 South American Championships.

The latter three were especially important as it made Argentina the first – and only team to date – to have won three Copa Americas in a row.

The 1947 title is also significant because it is the only tournament Alfredo Di Stéfano ever won at international level. His Argentine career record of six goals in six tournament games is almost as good as that of his former manager.

By 1949 an Argentine players’ strike severely depleted the league’s ability to compete. Many players, including Di Stéfano, left the country in search of better wages.

While the practice of leaving for Europe was common among Argentine players – such as 1927 Copa winner Raimundo Orsi who left Argentina to win the World Cup with Italy in 1934 – the strike was a serious drain on talent.

As such, Stábile’s national team withdrew from the 1949 and 1953 editions of the South American Championship. When La Albiceleste returned, they picked up where they left off with wins in 1955 and 1957, sandwiched by a bronze in 1956. Overall, Stábile had won six of the eight South American Championships he had contested, a momentous statistic by any standard.

These victories had come about through the creation of a new, improved frontline consisting of Antonio Angelillo (11 goals in 11 Argentina games), Omar Sívori (nine in 19) and Humberto Maschio (12 in 12), with help from right winger Omar Corbatta (18 in 43).

Their nickname of Los Carasucias (Angels with Dirty Faces) was a nod to their physical resemblance to the characters of the 1938 Humphrey Bogart film.

It was also a designation, with a slightly masochistic racial undertone, presented to them after the attacking trio’s departure for more lucrative European contracts following the 1957 South American Championship.

Their decision to leave could not have come at a worse time for Stábile, who was preparing Argentina for their first World Cup appearance since 1934.

Ominously held in Sweden, who had knocked Argentina out 24 years earlier, the 1958 World Cup was meant to be a delayed showcase of Stábile’s abilities. Instead, it came to represent his worst nightmare.

Following humiliating 3-1 and 6-1 defeats to West Germany and Czechoslovakia respectively, La Albiceleste were sent home with their tails between their legs. Stábile resigned in shame, but his team gained some redemption by winning the 1959 South American Championship.

He eventually returned in 1960 to help Argentina win the Pan American Championship, only to resign once again. He lived out his last years as the director of the Argentine National School of Football Management, as Argentine football fell into a depression. Since Stábile‘s retirement, the national team have only won six major tournaments.

In 1954, Stábile was assigned the task of scouting the World Cup that was to be held in Switzerland.

He concluded that the European teams had become so obsessed with tactics and orders that they had forgotten to allow their players the freedom to play. He remarked that he would never be able to implement such a strategy in Buenos Aires, as the strength of his countrymen was their natural skill.

This report is a perfect epitaph on the career of a forgotten great. Guillermo Stábile will never be remembered for proposing a tactical revolution; he was far behind his contemporaries in that regard. Instead, he should be remembered as the last of the great football romantics – a man who broke a staggering number of records believing that football should be played for fun.