With most of the immense crowd roaring them forward, they beat against a Uruguayan defence in which, for the moment, the huge Varela played a wholly destructive part. If he was marvellously resilient, the little, black Andrade was no less stalwart, while Maspoli performed acrobatic prodigies in goal. Time and again, Zizinho, Ademir and Jair, that terrifying trio, worked their sinuous way through the blue walls of Uruguay’s defence. Time and again, a last-ditch tackle by Andrade or Varela, an interception by the flying Maspoli, frustrated them. In the sixteenth minute there was a tremendous mêlée in the Uruguayan area, but Andrade strode into the middle of it and cleared. Seven minutes later Jair let fly a tremendous shot, only for Maspoli to leap across his goal and deflect it for a corner. There was another massed onslaught on the Uruguayan goal, this time thwarted at last by Varela, glad to kick upfield.
The respite was short. Soon Friaça was taking Brazil’s third corner of the match and shooting when the ball came back to him out of the vortex, only for Maspoli to hurl himself among the lunging legs and turn it for another corner. Next minute Ademir, deadliest shot of the competition, was left alone in front of goal; the shot was powerful and well placed, but again Maspoli somehow reached it.
It was just about now that Uruguay, shaking themselves like a great dog, began at last to come into the game. Barbosa, the agile black Brazilian goalkeeper who had virtually been watching the game, now found himself in sudden, desperate movement as Ghiggia and Miguez broke to make a chance for Schiaffino, whose raking shot forced Barbosa to leap mightily.
Brazil retaliated at once, forcing another corner, at which Jair banged a shot against the post. Now Maspoli performed new heroics, saving from Ademir, diving wonderfully to a low shot by Zizinho.
The last seven minutes of the half saw a relaxing of the Brazilian pressure, a time out of war for Uruguay’s defence. Three times their attack got away for a shot and there were substantial straws in the wind by half-time.
But they were forgotten two minutes after the restart when the Uruguayan citadel fell at last. Ademir and Zizinho, working the ball quickly and cleverly, drew Uruguay’s defence left, switched it right, and there was Friaça, running in to shoot in full stride—and score.
The goal had come too late to demoralise Uruguay. They had held out long enough, ultimately launched sufficient attacks, to be quite sure the Brazilians were mortal. Their response to the blow was not to crumble but to hit back vigorously, and while the crowd was distracted by the grim sight of a corpse being taken away on a stretcher, the Uruguayan forwards set about Brazil’s defence. After two raids had been beaten off, Schiaffino’s typically precise through pass sent Perez away for a rocketing shot which Barbosa reached only with his fingertips. Now Varela had definitively committed himself to attack. Brazil’s wingers, thus given more space, enjoyed it briefly, Andrade having to recover superbly to tackle the galloping Friaça. But Ademir, waving his arms urgently to encourage his colleagues, seemed to realise something was amiss.
After twenty minutes Uruguay struck again; and scored a goal which had long been in the wind. Varela trundled the ball into the Brazilian half before sending little Ghiggia flying down the right, where he was now the master of inadequately covered Bigode. The winger’s centre reached a totally unmarked Schiaffino who, after four strides, let fly a shot Barbosa had no hope of saving.
Brazil kicked off; but the virtue, the brio, had gone out of them. It was Varela who bestrode the field, nonchalant and indomitable, masterfully breaking up and launching attacks, the old-school centre-half par excellence.
After thirty-four minutes of the half Ghiggia received a pass and found Perez, who shook off Jair, made ground, and returned the ball to Ghiggia. Once more Brazil’s left flank was turned. Ghiggia ran on to the ball, shot—and it was in the net again. Uruguay led, 2–1.
Moments later, by some trick of the sun, Maspoli’s goal was bathed in light, as if to symbolise the victory. In the last minute even Augusto, Brazil’s captain and right-back, was in the Uruguayan penalty area, but there was no breaching that defence. Mr Reader, the referee and consummate master of the occasion, blew his whistle; and the World Cup, after twenty years, had returned to Montevideo.
RESULTS: Brazil 1950
Pools I, II, III, IV
Brazil 4, Mexico 0 (HT 1/0)
Yugoslavia 3, Switzerland 0 (HT 3/0)
Yugoslavia 4, Mexico 1 (HT 2/0)
Brazil 2, Switzerland 2 (HT 2/1)
Brazil 2, Yugoslavia 0 (HT 1/0)
Switzerland 2, Mexico 1 (HT 2/0)
GOALS
P W D L F A Pts
Brazil 3 2 1 0 8 2 5
Yugoslavia 3 2 0 1 7 3 4
Switzerland 3 1 1 1 4 6 3
Mexico 3 0 0 3 2 10 0
Spain 3, United States 1 (HT 0/1)
England 2, Chile 0 (HT 1/0)
United States 1, England 0 (HT 1/0)
Spain 2, Chile 0 (HT 2/0)
Spain 1, England 0 (HT 0/0)
Chile 5, United States 2 (HT 2/0)
GOALS
P W D L F A Pts
Spain 3 3 0 0 6 1 6
England 3 1 0 2 2 2 2
Chile 3 1 0 2 5 6 2
United States 3 1 0 2 4 8 2
Sweden 3, Italy 2 (HT 2/1)
Sweden 2, Paraguay 2 (HT 2/1)
Italy 2, Paraguay 0 (HT 1/0)
GOALS
P W D L F A Pts
Sweden 2 1 1 0 5 4 3
Italy 2 1 0 1 4 3 2
Paraguay 2 0 1 1 2 4 1
Uruguay 8, Bolivia 0 (HT 4/0)
GOALS
P W D L F A Pts
Uruguay 1 1 0 0 8 0 2
Bolivia 1 0 0 1 0 8 0
Final pool matches
São Paulo
Uruguay 2 Spain 2
Maspoli; Gonzales, M., Ramallets; Alonzo,
Tejera; Gonzales, W., Gonzalvo II; Gonzalvo
Varela (capt.), Andrade; III, Parra, Puchades;
Ghiggia, Perez, Miguez, Basora, Igoa, Zarra,
Schiaffino, Vidal. Molowny, Gainza.
SCORERS
Ghiggia, Varela for Uruguay
Basora (2) for Spain
HT 1/2
Rio
Brazil 7 Sweden 1
Barbosa; Augusto Svensson; Samuelsson,
(capt.), Juvenal; Bauer, Nilsson, E.; Andersson,
Danilo, Bigode; Nordahl, K., Gard;
Maneca, Zizinho, Sundqvist, Palmer,
Ademir, Jair, Chico. Jeppson, Skoglund,
Nilsson, S.
SCORERS
Ademir (4), Chico (2), Maneca for Brazil
Andersson (penalty) for Sweden
HT 3/0
São Paulo
Uruguay 3 Sweden 2
Paz; Gonzales, M., Svensson; Samuelsson,
Tejera; Gambetta, Nilsson, E.; Andersson,
Varela (capt.), Andrade; Johansson, Gard,
Ghiggia, Perez, Miguez, Johnsson, Palmer,
Schiaffino, Vidal. Mellberg, Skoglund,
Sundqvist.
SCORERS
Ghiggia, Miguez (2) for Uruguay
Palmer, Sundqvist for Sweden
HT 1/2
Rio
Brazil 6 Spain 1
Barbosa; Augusto Eizaguirre; Alonzo,
(capt.), Juvenal; Bauer, Gonzalvo II; Gonzalvo
Danilo, Bigode; Friaça, III, Parra, Puchades;
Zizinho, Ademir, Jair, Basora, Igoa, Zarra,
Chico. Panizo, Gainza.
SCORERS
Jair (2), Chico (2), Zizinho, Parra (own goal) for Brazil
Igoa for Spain
HT 3/0
São Paulo
Sweden 3 Spain 1
Svensson; Samuelsson, Eizaguirre; Asensi,
Nilsson, E., Andersson, Alonzo; Silva, Parra,
Johansson, Gard; Puchades; Basora,
Sundqvist, Mellberg, Fernandez, Zarra,
Rydell, Palmer
Johnsson. Panizo, Juncosa.
SCORERS
Johansson, Mel
lberg, Palmer for Sweden
Zarra for Spain
HT 2/0
Rio
Uruguay 2 Brazil 1
Maspoli; Gonzales, M., Barbosa; Augusto (capt.),
Tejera; Gambetta, Juvenal; Bauer,
Varela (capt.), Andrade; Danilo, Bigode; Friaça,
Ghiggia, Perez, Miguez, Zizinho, Ademir, Jair,
Schiaffino, Moran. Chico.
SCORERS
Schiaffino, Ghiggia for Uruguay
Friaça for Brazil
HT 0/0
Final positions
GOALS
P W D L F A Pts
Uruguay 3 2 1 0 7 5 5
Brazil 3 2 0 1 14 4 4
Sweden 3 1 0 2 6 11 2
Spain 3 0 1 2 4 11 1
SWITZERLAND
1954
Background to Switzerland
If the result of the 1950 World Cup was a shock, that of the 1954 World Cup was a cataclysm. Never had there been so hot, so inevitable, a favourite as Hungary; the team which had brought new dimensions and horizons to the game. For the past few years, since they had ended a long sojourn behind the Iron Curtain by coming out to win the 1952 Helsinki Olympic title, they had been, quite simply, unbeatable. They had squared the circle, solved football’s equivalent of the riddle of the Sphinx: how to reconcile the traditional skills, the supreme technique, of Continental football with the strength and shooting power of the British.
Since Poland had scratched, the Hungarians had not even been obliged to win a match to qualify. They were grouped with the West Germans—now readmitted to the World Cup, still under the shrewd command of little Sepp Herberger—and the Turks.
The World Cup Committee, in its doubtful wisdom, had devised a new eliminating scheme whose complexity was rivalled only by its illogicality. Instead of putting a total of four countries in four groups and getting each group to play the others, it seeded two teams in each group and kept them apart, each being thus obliged to play only the two unseeded teams. Since equality on points became highly probable it was laid down, first, that teams level at full-time would play extra time, and second, that if at the end of the group two teams were still level, they would play-off. It was this tortuous, fatuous arrangement which produced the ultimate anomaly of Germany winning the Final against a Hungarian team that had previously beaten them 8–3.
Switzerland itself was a curious choice for the staging of a World Cup, and in the event the task was too great. Though the crowds were encouragingly large, thanks no doubt to Switzerland’s accessibility, organisation was haphazard and the excesses of the Swiss police sometimes unpleasant.
The Contenders Germany
At the start, Germany were not much fancied. Their team had qualified with some ease against Norway and the Saar, and was built round players from Kaiserslautern. Above all there was the thirty-three-year-old captain and inside-forward, Fritz Walter, an admirable player, not quite presaging the extraordinary, more spectacular Netzer, but certainly a very skilled ball player and a fine, economical, strategist, with an excellent shot besides. Otmar Walter, his brother, played at centre-forward, while Horst Eckel, the versatile right-half, was another Kaiserslautern man.
Uruguay
Uruguay, the Cup holders, had another strong team, though now they were no longer an unknown quantity. There were a couple of splendid new wingers in Julio Abbadie, succeeding the frail Alcide Ghiggia, and Carlo Borges, while even the excellent Julio Perez had been surpassed and replaced, at inside-right, by Xavier Ambrois. The massive Varela was still there, fourteen years after his first cap, as were Andrade, Maspoli, Miguez and the incomparable Schiaffino.
The Uruguayans were seeded in Pool III with Austria, Scotland and the Czechs making up the number. The Czechs, who had qualified against Bulgaria and Romania, were still far from regaining their pre-war stature.
Austria
Austria—such seemed to be their fate in World Cups—were marginally over the crest. Three years before, they had had what was probably the best team in Europe, playing the old metodo game, pivoting in the classical way round a marvellous, attacking centre-half in Ernst Ocwirk, who was still their captain. Ocwirk, tall, muscular and dark, the possessor of a wonderfully strong and accurate left foot and impeccable technique, was ironically a supporter of the third back game. Now he had had his wish fulfilled; Austria had espoused it at last. Uruguay still hadn’t, but Brazil had.
Scotland
Scotland, having finished second to England in a British championship which doubled as a World Cup qualifying group, this time deigned to compete. They also broke with custom by appointing Andrew Beattie, their former celebrated left-back and manager of Huddersfield Town, as team manager. Unfortunately, the players themselves were a poor lot. Lawrie Reilly, the lively Hibernian forward, was ill, and there was no obvious goalkeeper, the job going to Fred Martin of Aberdeen. Willie Fernie, the Celtic inside-right, was a player of undoubted technical gifts but most doubtful consistency; his club colleague, Neil Mochan, was a centre-forward who had returned to Scotland after failing in English football.
Tommy Docherty, the fair-haired, powerful Preston North End wing-half, was a footballer of bite and intelligence, deeply interested in foreign football, who would afterwards praise Schiaffino as the finest inside-forward he had ever met. But even in prospect the general impression was one of honest mediocrity.
England
England were grouped with Belgium and Switzerland, with Italy the other seeded team. Their selectors chose a ridiculous team in which two men—Peter Harris, outside-right, and Bedford Jezzard, centre-forward—were winning their first caps.
Matthews, now aged thirty-nine, and still good enough to shame the selectors with his untarnished excellence, had again been grudgingly recalled to the colours at the last moment. There was no successor at centre-half to Neil Franklin, after four uneasy years; if the backs had been defenestrated, Gil Merrick had been retained as goalkeeper.
Tom Finney was still about; Nat Lofthouse, the squat, strong Bolton centre-forward, with bags of courage and a fierce left foot in addition to his ability in the air, would lead the line. Ivor Broadis, a Londoner who had begun with Spurs and then made a name as the clever player-manager of Carlisle before joining Sunderland and other leading clubs, was at inside-forward; a neat prompter with a good shot. Once again the captain was Billy Wright, who would gain new fame in a new position.
Brazil, Yugoslavia and France
Brazil, with Pinheiro as a third back and Zeze Moreira as their sternly dedicated manager, came without their marvellous 1950 trio, Zizinho, Ademir and Jair. Of these only Zizinho was a possible choice, but he had been rigorously passed over in favour of less exotic players. One of these was Didì, master of the swerving free kick. Baltazar was back again at centre-forward, and there was a formidable new outside-right in Julinho.
At full-back the two Santoses—stalwart, black Djalma and tall, strong, stylish Nilton—would play, while Bauer, a hero of 1950, would captain the team from wing-half. Yugoslavia and feeble Mexico would make up the pool, the fourth team being France.
The Yugoslavs, who had given Brazil such a run for their money in Rio, had taken full points in a qualifying group with Israel and Greece, but scored a mere four goals. They had developed a spectacular new goalkeeper called Vladimir Beara, who had once briefly studied ballet, and had all the associated attributes. Zlatko Cjaicowski was captain again, Mitic and Bobek resumed at inside-forward, while there was a resourceful new left-half in Boskov and a superb left-winger in the versatile Branko Zebec.
The French team had a talented half-back line in Penverne, Jonquet and Marcel, the young, emerging Raymond Kopa at outside-right, Jean Vincent on the left wing. They too had taken maximum qualifying points, against Eire and Luxembourg.
Italy
Italy arrived in some turmoil. All had gone right, now all had suddenly been going wrong.
Lajos Czeizler, an elderly, rusé Hungarian, had built his qualifying team on the s
o called blocco viola; that is on the Fiorentina defence. This had not pleased the Milanese fans, and Czeizler abandoned his previous attacking principles, recalling the vulpine, veteran Capello and making the slim Carlo Galli of Roma his centre-forward. Though Italian football had not yet succumbed to the dreadful dead hand of catenaccio, with its manic defensive posture, pressures were enormous, economics arcane.
Still, there was Benito ‘Poison’ Lorenzi, the Tuscan with the forked tongue, whose control, imagination and finishing power had been so valuable to Inter. There was the handsome, blond, olive-skinned, blue-eyed jeune premier Giampiero Boniperti of Juventus, whom the Agnelli—of Fiat—would later make into a millionaire and who, captaining club and country, would later become Juventus’ very President. Giorgio Ghezzi, nicknamed ‘Kamikhaze’, was a brave and elastic goalkeeper; and surely Switzerland and Belgium formed no great obstacle?
Unfortunately Czeizler, despite his outward appearance of middle European aplomb and sophistication, simply lost control in Switzerland, picking ridiculous teams—or allowing them to be picked for him—and letting discipline go to the winds. By the time the team was ensconced in its picturesque ritiro outside Basel for the play-off, anarchy reigned.
Hungary
Puskas, Kocsis, Hidegkuti, Bozsik; these were the names, the men, around whom the extraordinary Hungarian team was built. Ferenc Puskas, nicknamed the ‘Galloping Major’ in England for his army rank, was the captain, the star of stars, a squat little Budapest urchin-figure, plastered hair parted down the middle, with superb control, supreme strategy, and above all a left-footed shot which was unrivalled in the world, dangerous from any distance up to thirty-five yards. Sandor Kocsis—‘Golden Head’—a smaller and more delicate player than Puskas, was just as formidable when the ball was in the air; another accomplishment in which foreign footballers could previously never match the British, with their Lawtons, Deans and Lofthouses.
The Story of the World Cup Page 6
