Each team insisted on a ball of native manufacture; a point which had not been covered in the regulations. It was finally decided that Langenus should toss up on the field. To a fusillade of firecrackers, he did. Argentina won.
Though Uruguay clearly had to be favoured on their own stadium, before their own crowd, the team had not played with the assurance of its predecessors. Moreover, Pelegrin Anselmo was unfit and was replaced at centre-forward by Castro; Petrone’s sun had definitely set. Argentina might have missed Orsi, but they had found Stabile, and their forward play had been excellent; full of fast, sweeping, intelligent movements, the traditionally fine ball control allied to subtle positioning. In goal, however, there was a manifest weakness. Angelo Bossio’s flashy, unreliable play had led to his being dropped from the semi-final, but his replacement, Juan Botasso, was no great improvement.
The first half was pregnant with surprises. After only twelve minutes, Pablo Dorado, the Uruguayan right-winger, gave his country the lead, but Peucelle, his opposite number, equalised, and ten minutes from half-time John Langenus boldly sanctioned a goal by Stabile which Nasazzi, Uruguay’s captain, fiercely insisted was offside. Crowds being unpredictable organisms, there was no attempt to invade the pitch this time, merely a stunned acceptance.
The crowds came to life again ten minutes after the interval, when Pedro Cea capped an insidious dribble with the equalising goal. Uruguay had broken the spell. Ten minutes more and the young Uruguayan outside-left, Santos Iriarte, put them ahead, and finally Castro, Anselmo’s understudy, smashed the ball into the roof of the net in the concluding seconds. Uruguay had won an exciting and surprisingly good-tempered game.
But what of Monti, alias ‘The Man Who Strolled’? Long, long afterwards, at the age of 92, sole survivor of Argentina’s team, Pancho Varallo, then the inside right, accused Monti of being in a state of panic after receiving death threats. Varallo, who played ten years for Argentina and in his old age ran a lottery ticket shop in the city where he’d begun his career with Gimnasia y Esgrima, declared that in the dressing-room before kick off in the final, Monti feared he’d be killed, threatened not to play, and had to be reassured by Varallo and the other players.
But throughout the match, Varallo recollected, Monti was in such a state of terror as to be virtually a passenger. When Varallo himself was injured and had to limp on the wing, Argentina were effectively reduced to ten men.
Motor horns blared in triumph, ships blew their sirens in the port, flags and banners flew, the next day was proclaimed a national holiday. The golden, 50,000-franc Cup, designed by a French sculptor, Abel Lafleur, was consigned to Nasazzi by Jules Rimet.
In Buenos Aires, the Uruguayan Consulate was stoned by an infuriated mob until the police dispersed it by opening fire. The World Cup was well and truly launched.
RESULTS: Uruguay 1930
Pool I
France 4, Mexico 1 (HT 3/0)
Argentina 1, France 0 (HT 0/0)
Chile 3, Mexico 0 (HT 1/0)
Chile 1, France 0 (HT 0/0)
Argentina 6, Mexico 3 (HT 3/0)
Argentina 3, Chile 1 (HT 2/1)
GOALS
P W D L F A Pts
Argentina 3 3 0 0 10 4 6
Chile 3 2 0 1 5 3 4
France 3 1 0 2 4 3 2
Mexico 3 0 0 3 4 13 0
Pool II
Yugoslavia 2, Brazil 1 (HT 2/0)
Yugoslavia 4, Bolivia 0 (HT 0/0)
Brazil 4, Bolivia 0 (HT 1/0)
GOALS
P W D L F A Pts
Yugoslavia 2 2 0 0 6 1 4
Brazil 2 1 0 1 5 2 2
Bolivia 2 0 0 2 0 8 0
Pool III
Romania 3, Peru 1 (HT 1/0)
Uruguay 1, Peru 0 (HT 0/0)
Uruguay 4, Romania 0 (HT 4/0)
GOALS
P W D L F A Pts
Uruguay 2 2 0 0 5 0 4
Romania 2 1 0 1 3 5 2
Peru 2 0 0 2 1 4 0
Pool IV
United States 3, Belgium 0 (HT 2/0)
United States 3, Paraguay 0 (HT 2/0)
Paraguay 1, Belgium 0 (HT 1/0)
GOALS
P W D L F A Pts
United States 2 2 0 0 6 0 4
Paraguay 2 1 0 1 1 3 2
Belgium 2 0 0 2 0 4 0
Semi-finals
Argentina 6 United States 1
Botasso; Della Torre, Douglas; Wood,
Paternoster; Evaristo, J., Moorhouse; Gallacher,
Monti, Orlandini; Tracey, Auld; Brown,
Peucelle, Scopelli, Gonsalvez, Patenaude,
Stabile, Ferreira (capt.), Florie (capt.), McGhee.
Evaristo, M.
SCORERS
Monti, Scopelli, Stabile (2), Peucelle (2), for Argentina
Brown for United States
HT 1/0
Uruguay 6 Yugoslavia 1
Ballesteros; Nasazzi Yavocic; Ivkovic
(capt.), Mascheroni; (capt.), Milhailovic;
Andrade, Fernandez, Arsenievic, Stefanovic,
Gestido; Dorado, Djokic; Tirnanic,
Scarone, Anselmo, Marianovic, Beck,
Cea, Iriarte. Vujadinovic, Seculic.
SCORERS
Cea (3), Anselmo (2), Iriarte for Uruguay
Seculic for Yugoslavia
HT 3/1
Final
Uruguay 4 Argentina 2
Ballesteros; Nasazzi Botasso; Della Torre,
(capt.), Mascheroni; Paternoster; Evaristo,
Andrade, Fernandez, J., Monti, Suarez;
Gestido; Dorado, Peucelle, Varallo,
Scarone, Castro, Cea, Stabile, Ferreira
Iriarte. (capt.), Evaristo, M.
SCORERS
Dorado, Cea, Iriarte, Castro for Uruguay
Peucelle, Stabile for Argentina
HT 1/2
ITALY
1934
Background to Italy
It would be twenty years before the World Cup returned to South America—and to Uruguay. The 1934 tournament was altogether more high-powered and highly competitive, though for the first and only time so far the holders did not defend. Uruguay, still piqued by the defection of the European ‘powers’ in 1930, plagued, too, by one of those periodic players’ strikes which would still torment them over forty years later, stayed at home. Italy organised it, Italy won, prompting the reflection of John Langenus: ‘In the majority of countries; the World Championship was called a sporting fiasco, because beside the desire to win all other sporting considerations were non-existent, and because, moreover, a certain spirit brooded over the whole Championship. Italy wanted to win, it was natural, but they allowed it to be seen too clearly.’
Given the Fascist climate of the times, it was perhaps inevitable. The Italian team, the azzurri (blues) were ‘Mussolini’s azzurri’, the Duce himself would appear, heavy-chinned and smirking under a yachting cap, at Rome’s Stadio Nazionale. Vittorio Pozzo, the Italian Commissario Tecnico, a great anglophile but a great authoritarian, unquestionably used the inflated spirit of the times to promote an atmosphere, a discipline, which subsequent Italian managers have envied, and which would never have been possible without it; any more than Pozzo himself, the revered father figure. ‘Kind, but with a strong hand,’ he reminisced. ‘If I let them make mistakes, I’d lose my authority.’ He did not hesitate to make use of oriundi South American stars of Italian origin. Three of them, all Argentines, played in the final. One was Monti, whom Pozzo wanted as a roving centre-half in the image of Manchester United’s Charlie Roberts, whom he’d known and admired when a poor student before the First World War. Pozzo’s tactics would be firmly based on pre-Third Back Game days.
‘If they can die for Italy, they can play for Italy,’ he grandiosely claimed, meaning that oriundi were liable for Italian military service. But when, in 1935, war was declared on Abyssinia, Enrico Guaita, the World Cup outside-right, was caught trying to slip across the Swiss border with other oriundi. Play yes, die, no.
Po
zzo and the equally authoritarian anglophile Hugo Meisl of Austria, were the dominant figures in European football between the wars, sharing the friendship of Herbert Chapman, the remarkable Yorkshireman who built up Arsenal. The ‘natural’ final would have been between Italy and Meisl’s so-called Wunderteam, fractionally past its peak but still a fine side, which had whacked Italy 4–2 in Turin only months before the World Cup began. They would meet in the semi-final.
This time, it would be a knock-out competition with sixteen teams in the first round; a dispensation which meant that Brazil and Argentina came some eight thousand miles to play just one game. There had been, besides, a qualifying competition, in which, curiously, even the Italians were obliged to take part. They beat Greece in Milan, a match in which Nereo Rocco of Triestina, later the outstanding manager of Milan, played his only (half) game for his country.
The tournament had been assigned to Italy at the Stockholm congress of 1932. It was realised that it could no longer be confined to a single city, nor to a country without huge resources. Uruguay had in fact paid everyone’s expenses and still made a comfortable profit in 1930, but the scale was growing. ‘The Italian Federation’, promised its delegate, Avvocato Mauro, ‘is capable of sustaining these burdens, and even in the case of an adverse balance wants to hold the entire final stages of the tournament, using as its theatre the numerous and flourishing Italian cities, all provided with magnificent stadiums.’ Behind the hard-working Mauro and his pleasant energetic colleague, Engineer Barassi, the Fascist government stood ready to pick up the cheque.
The Opening Games
There was still, curiously, an eliminating match to play before the tournament proper could begin; curiously because it took place in Rome between two countries as distant as Mexico and the United States. The Americans, with only two survivors from their 1930 semi-final team, won, but were thrashed 7–1 in the same Stadio Torino by Italy in the following game. Thirty-two teams had entered the qualifying tournament; twenty-two from Europe, eight from the Americas, one each from Asia and Africa—none from Britain.
Both South American teams went out at once. In Genoa, Spain were 3–1 up against Brazil at half-time, a score which did not change. Argentina went down 3–2 to Sweden, their team including not a single member of the 1930 side.
In Turin, France provided the chief surprise of the round, doing far better than had been expected against the Austrians, who had most of the luck that was going. Austria won only in extra time with a most dubious goal.
The Germans, who had prepared thoroughly, were startled by Belgium in Florence, but recovered strongly. The Belgians scored twice in the first half to give them a 2–1 lead; then the team blew up. Conen, Germany’s centre-forward, completed a hat trick, and his side won 5–2.
In Trieste the fancied Czechs were troubled by the Romanians. Dobai scored for Romania after eleven minutes, but Puc, the thrustful Czech left-winger, and Nejedly, their dangerous, graceful inside-left, replied in the second half. The winner was rather a lucky goal, for Nejedly received the ball after Sobotka won it in a bounce-up.
Hungary were given a surprisingly hard time of it by Egypt in Naples, winning only 4–2. Switzerland beat the Dutch 3–2 in Milan; one of their goals, by the bespectacled centre-forward Kielholz, came from a shot which hit a bump in the ground and was crazily diverted.
The Second Round
The second round included two fascinating pairings: Italy would play Spain in Florence; Austria and Hungary, those old foes, would meet at Bologna.
Italy were rough, the referee weak. Spain took the lead with a goal which might have demoralised a less resilient team than Italy. When Langara, the centre-forward, took a free kick, Regueiro—whose son would play for Mexico in the 1968 Olympics—swung at the ball, miskicked it utterly, and in miskicking beat the wrong-footed Combi. A minute after the interval, Italy were lucky to equalise when Pizziolo, the right-half, took another free kick. Zamora, obstructed by Schiavio, could only push the ball out, and Ferrari drove it home.
In extra time, Pozzo switched Schiavio and Guaita, as he would in the Final, but now it was unproductive. After the game he called each of his players, one by one, into the salon of the hotel where they were staying on the Lungarno. For the replay the following day he wanted only volunteers, and there were three changes. Pizziolo had broken his leg—another blow Italy had ridden with aplomb—and gave way to Ferraris IV, while de Maria and Borel had their only game of the competition, in attack. Spain by contrast were able to use only four of their previous team. Noguet, a young reserve, stood in for Zamora, and Bosch, the left-winger, was hurt as early as the fourth minute. Eight minutes later Meazza, always dangerous in the air, rose gracefully to Orsi’s corner and headed Italy into the semi-finals.
In Bologna, Hugo Meisl picked the busy little inside-forward Horwarth and he, though no Sindelar, gave the team fresh drive in what Meisl described as ‘a brawl, not an exhibition of football’. After only seven minutes, Horwarth raced in to convert Zischek’s cross, and with Sarosi well under form Hungary found it hard to get back into the game.
Six minutes after half-time, Zischek, in the centre, drove in Bican’s pass to make it 2–0, and the match began to get rough. Sarosi reduced the lead from a penalty, things grew rougher still, and Markos, Hungary’s right-winger, foolishly got himself sent off just when his team threatened to equalise. As it was, they pressed gamely on till the end, though the most dangerous shot was Sindelar’s, gloriously saved by Szabo. Austria, calmer and better together, had deserved their win, and had found new life.
In Milan, heavy rain did not prevent a large crowd, mushroomed with umbrellas and chequered with swastika flags, from attending the Germany–Sweden game. Germany, with one inside-forward lying deep, the other upfield, met in Sweden a team of similar Nordic propensities, solid rather than skilful, and had slightly the better of the first half.
Twelve minutes after the break, Rosen, the Swedish centre-half, found Kroon, his left-winger, unmarked ten yards from goal. Kroon shot wide, and Sweden’s chance had gone. Three minutes later, when Rydberg, who had made two fine saves in the first half, could only push a ball out, Hohmann, Germany’s inside-right, scored. Another three minutes and he got a far more spectacular goal, beating both Swedish backs and drawing Rydberg out of goal before placing his shot coolly past him.
Sweden soon afterwards lost their left-half, E. Andersson, who was hurt, but they kept on gamely and Dunker scored them a consoling if irrelevant goal.
At Turin, the Czechs won the best match of the round against the combative Swiss. The game swung and swayed, but the Czechs always seemed to have the resources of skill, stamina and confidence to regain the lead, running out winners by 3–2.
The Semi-Finals Italy v. Austria
The semi-finals now brought together Italy and Austria in Milan, and Germany and the Czechs in Rome. By all rights, the Italians should have been tired, the Austrians favoured, but Hugo Meisl would have none of it. Italy, he said, had better reserves that Austria, were better prepared and would be better supported. Perhaps his pessimism would have been confounded again had not Horwarth, the lively catalyst, been injured, his place going to Schall; and had it not been for a deluge creating just the heavy surface which the Vienna school found anathema.
Zischek and Sindelar—sternly guarded by Monti—were particularly disadvantaged in the heavy conditions, but Smistik had a magnificent game at centre-half. The only goal was scored by the Argentinian right-winger Guaita after eighteen minutes, in a clever move that followed a corner. Later, he missed another chance to score, and Austria, who looked much more tired than the surprisingly lively Italians, did not have a shot at goal until the forty-second minute. Ferraris was in dominant form, which was as well for Italy when the Austrians turned on pressure for a quarter of an hour after the interval. In the last minute, with Italy again calling the tune, Zischek picked up a clearance by his goalkeeper, Peter Platzer, and tore through Italy’s defence while the crowd watch
ed, silent and aghast. But he shot wide, and Italy had reached the Final.
Czechoslovakia v. Germany
So did the Czechs, who beat Germany in Rome, showing clearly that the W formation, like patriotism, was not enough. They frolicked round the muscular, well-organised but uninspired Germans like Lilliputians round a Gulliver, while a curious weakness of the Germans was poor finishing. Rahn, Seeler and Muller were far away. The Germans, moreover, began the game most cautiously, both inside-forwards, rather than just one, lying deep; Hohmann, their talented inside-right, was seriously missed.
The crowd, including Mussolini in his yachting cap, was neutral and restrained as the Czechs gladly took up the initiative the Germans gave them. After twenty-one minutes Junek, the right-winger, concluded an attack which swept all the way across the forward-line with a shot which Kress could only beat out. Nejedly scored; and Czechoslovakia became a little complacent.
The second half, however, saw them regain their grip, and victory seemed inevitable—when Planicka made one of those errors which remind one of Disraeli’s epigram that the defects of great men are the consolation of dunces. He simply stood and watched as a long shot by Noack, Germany’s inside-left, sailed over him into goal. 1–1.
Germany, thus reprieved, pressed fiercely, and Ctyroky almost put through his own goal. Ten minutes after the equaliser, however, the forceful Puc belted a free kick from just outside the area against the bar. Krcil, the left-half, sent it back into the net. Germany collapsed, and Nejedly, taking Cambal’s pass, dribbled fluently through to add the third.
The Story of the World Cup Page 2
