The Story of the World Cup

by Brian Glanville

  Paranoia indeed, for Iran looked anything but destablised in an exciting game. Despite facing an eight-man defence, the unlucky Americans twice in the first half hit the woodwork. Squealing, screaming, making most of the noise, the Iranian fans had their offensive banners taken away by security staff. Refused a clear penalty when Kasey Keller brought the lively Azizi down, the Iranians went ahead through Estili but had the woodwork to thank again when Regis—enlisted at the last moment on the basis of having an American wife—struck the post. A breakaway goal by the quick, cool Mahdavikia made it 2–0; McBride’s reply three minutes later was academic.

  The Americans then lost 1–0 to Yugoslavia, which to an outsider seemed a perfectly decent performance. Delusions of grandeur seemed to afflict them; what on earth did they expect from the tournament? Tab Ramos, the player so badly injured by the elbow of Brazil’s Leonardo—back again as an attacking left-sided midfielder—was a pungent critic. ‘From the start, this whole World Cup has been a mess,’ he said. ‘As long as Steve Sampson and Clive Charles are around this team, I won’t have anything to do with it.’ He did not have to wait long.

  The Italians, profiting from their Chilean escape and from the emergence of Roma’s Luigi Di Biagio as the playmaker they so badly needed, easily disposed of a Cameroon team reduced to ten men when their big centre-back Kalla was sent off for his assault on Di Biagio, who himself enterprisingly headed the opening goal. He always liked to be constructive with Roma, he said. Christian Vieri added a couple more. Then Austria, turgidly defensive yet occasionally dangerous, were beaten 2–1 at Saint-Denis, Vieri notching another goal, the Austrians scoring a penalty via Herzog in the 90th minute immediately after Roberto Baggio, coming on as a substitute, had scored Italy’s second.

  What of Brazil, the holders and the favourites? Whatever his problems with Dunga, his lack of popularity with the fans, Bebeto had outshone Ronaldo in the game against Norway and taken his goal well, also surpassing Denilson. In defence, the parts seemed greater than the whole. ‘At the back,’ said Scotland’s John Collins, ‘notably in the central area, they seem to be very nervous. If Brazil have a weak point, it’s in that area.’ Zagallo himself admitted, ‘The backs go up too much, in the belief that people will fill in the gaps. But Dunga and Cesar Sampaio cannot always do that. It’s clear that Cafu and Roberto Carlos must observe a certain discipline.’ Something not always clear to Roberto Carlos.

  But the way Brazil brushed Chile almost contemptuously aside in their second round eliminator at the Parc des Princes suggested there was abundant life in the old dog yet. Cesar Sampaio got another couple of goals, Ronaldo scored two and hit the woodwork twice. Marcelo Salas, though he did score Chile’s solitary goal to make the score 3–1, did so only after Ivan Zamorano’s header had bounced off Claudio Tafferel. A couple of minutes later Ronaldo, whose first goal had been a penalty, made it 4–1. Brazil had re-established themselves as favourites.

  In Marseille, Italy made heavier weather than necessary of beating a Norwegian team which came out to play only in the last 20 minutes; and very nearly equalised when only a magnificent save by Gianluca Pagliuca (the keeper sent off against Norway in 1994 in Giants Stadium) kept out Tore Andre Flo’s header. Flo had been left alone up front by previously cautious Norway. Italy’s winning goal came when Luigi Di Biagio cleverly launched Christian Vieri, who shrugged off Eggen and ran on to score. But Alessandro Del Piero missed two easy chances and the mystery was not only that Cesare Maldini kept him on the field so long, but that when he did substitute him it was not with Roberto Baggio but with Enrico Chiesa.

  England’s match with Argentina in Saint-Etienne was a classic of its kind, enormously dramatic, right up to its conclusion with the absurdity of penalties, itself compounded by the taking of the last, unsuccessful, English penalty by a player who had never taken one for his country before. There was, of course, a substantial and controversial history of meetings in World Cups between these countries, notably the affair of the ‘animals’ at Wembley in 1966 and Maradona’s notorious Hand of God incident in Mexico City twenty years later.

  The game had a dynamic beginning; two goals in the first 10 minutes, each of them a penalty. Argentina’s was the first. When Diego Simeone broke through the English defence did David Seaman have to bring him down? Was Simeone’s fall histrionic? Whatever the answers, Gabriel Batistuta scored from the spot. Only six minutes had gone, but four minutes later England were level, scoring the first goal conceded by the Argentine defence for just over eight games. Michael Owen raced through only to be brought down by Roberto Ayala. Again, was the tumble dramatic? Alan Shearer capably thumped in the penalty.

  Another six minutes and Owen had put England ahead with a goal about which there was no doubt at all. His astonishing pace, his bold readiness to go it alone, took him past two desperate Argentine defenders, one of them Ayala, to beat Roa: 2–1.

  Had England only been able to cling to that lead at least till half time, who knows what might have been? As it was, they conceded the equaliser just before the break. Argentina’s elaborate free kick was most cleverly worked, but a more alert England defence would surely have countered it. From the bench, Daniel Passarella gave his orders, and as England laboured, a final pass from the gifted Juan Veron gave Zanetti the opening to shoot inexorably past Seaman.

  All square, but two minutes into the second half England were effectively doomed. Brought down by Simeone, David Beckham, who’d been warned time and again by Hoddle about his moments of impetuous folly, suddenly kicked back at the Argentine as he himself was lying on the ground. It was not vicious, merely petulant, but it happened right under the gaze of the the referee, Denmark’s Kim Nilton Nielsen. Off Beckham went, and England had their backs to the wall.

  It was immensely to England’s credit, due particularly to their indomitable defence, pivoting around Tony Adams and the powerful young Spurs centre-back Sol Campbell, that they held out for fully 70 minutes, extra time demandingly included. Campbell had the ball in the Argentine net but to no avail, since Shearer’s elbow had connected with Roa’s face. Batistuta, for once evading Adams, should have scored but untypically headed wide. Extra time brought no so-called Golden Goal, the innovation which was meant to curtail it, and so to the abomination, the prevailing irrelevance, of penalties.

  Berti scored for Argentine, Shearer repeated his earlier success for England. Seaman saved Hernan Crespo’s shot but then Paul Ince, the main force of the English midfield, was thwarted by Roa. Veron and Paul Merson, a substitute, scored in turn. Ayala made it 4–3, then poor David Batty had his shot saved. England were out, to contemplate what might have been in a match which would duly be mythologised. Heroic defeat. If only Hoddle had left it at that and eschewed his wretched diary.

  In Toulouse, Holland began as though they would overwhelm Yugoslavia only to run into difficulties later on. Would they have won at all had it not been for Dennis Bergkamp’s appalling foul on Sinisa Mihailovic, which forced that key defender with the devastating left foot off the field after 78 minutes, while Bergkamp inexplicably stayed on it? Bergkamp it was, exploiting Frank de Boer’s inspired long pass, who eventually opened the scoring after the Yugoslav keeper Ivica Kralj had kept Holland at bay. But two minutes after the break Dragan Stojkovic’s left-wing corner was headed in by Komijenovic: 1–1. Then Stam, outpaced by Jugovic, pulled him back by the shirt, only for Predrag Mijatovic—why not Mihailovic?—to thump his penalty against the bar. So Edgar Davids’s strong, low shot in the 90th minute allowed Holland controversially to prevail.

  Mexico, in Montpellier, put up a gallant show against an uneasy German team. Were it not for Hernandez’s failure to score from pointblank range after Kopke had turned the excellent Arellano’s shot against the post, and poor Lara’s fateful 75th-minute error, the Mexicans could well have won. Lara miskicked Hamann’s right-wing cross straight to Jürgen Klinsmann and in went the equaliser to Hernandez’s 47th-minute goal. Oliver Bierhoff headed the winner but Klinsmann�
�s words ‘We try to instil fear’ rang hollow. This was a waning German team.

  France made the heaviest weather of beating a defiant, largely defensive, Paraguay in Lens, eventually squeezing through on the Golden Goal scored by their elegant experienced centre-back Laurent Blanc. Blanc scored in the 113th minute when avid Trezeguet diverted Robert Pires’s cross to him. Neither of these two would last the course in a French team still looking for its identity. Paraguay’s fiery idiosyncratic goal scorer José Luis Chilavert, famous for scoring from left-foot free kicks, pulled his distressed colleagues to their feet, then congratulated his excellent bald opposite number, Fabien Barthez, his chief rival as best keeper of the tournament and a major figure in the eventual French success.

  In the Stade de France Nigeria simply and strangely collapsed against a Danish team inspired by the brothers Laudrup. Having strolled insouciantly through the previous irrelevant defeat by Paraguay, Nigeria seemed incapable of recovering their commitment and form. Overwhelmed in midfield by a Danish side which deployed only the newcomer Peter Moller up front, Nigeria crashed out 4–1.

  Croatia, for their part, eliminated a mysteriously passive Romanian team. Sporting the ghastly bleached hair they’d assumed for their draw against Tunisia—the consequence of a wager with their coach Anghel Iordanescu—the Romanians never took wing in Bordeaux. On this hot afternoon, the symbolic moment perhaps arrived when Romania’s talismanic skipper, Gheorghe Hagi, so effective against England, was substituted in his 114th and seemingly last international early in the second half.

  The decisive goal had already been scored from the spot. Bogdan Selea, whose defiant goalkeeping had kept Romania in the game, could not keep out Davor Suker’s penalty, right on the interval, after the highly effective midfielder Aljosa Asanovic had come down in a heap with Gabriel Popescu. Suker had to take the penalty twice. Romania felt the decision unjust, but correct or not the result was emphatically right. Only Stelea’s fine goalkeeping had kept the score down. So wily old Miroslav Blazevic, who had once been manager of French captain Didier Deschamps at Nantes and had a few years back spent time in a French prison accused of corruption (he was absolved), had taken Croatia without Boksic to the quarter finals.

  There, in Lyon, they took Germany apart; substantial revenge for the defeat by Germany in a bruising Euro 96 match. Berti Vogts, Germany’s never popular manager, took the thumping 3–0 defeat very hard. ‘There were some strange decisions made against us in the World Cup,’ he complained. ‘Maybe there was some secret instruction. Perhaps German soccer had become too successful and had to be punished.’ Evidently, the Iranians did not have a monopoly on paranoia. Vogts in due course was obliged to eat his words.

  A couple of minutes before the young German defender Christian Worns was sent off for body-checking Suker in the first half, Oliver Bierhoff should most certainly have gone for elbowing Soldo in the face. Rough justice, you might say.

  It was Roberto Jarni, Croatia’s protean attacking left-back, who gave them the lead with a spectacular goal, exploiting the greater freedom given him when Heinrich was moved inside to mark Davor Suker. Taking a pass across field from Mario Stanic, Jarni raced on to beat Kopke with a left-footed drive. It was just before half-time, which seemed a propitious moment for a Croatia who had gained new brio and thrust with the return from injury of Zvoni Boban.

  Desperately, Berti Vogts put on Marschall and Ulf Kirsten to supplement an ineffectual Klinsmann, but it was Croatia who scored twice more, first through the lively Goran Vlaovic, survivor of a fearful cranial operation, then from Suker. This was a notable solo effort, Suker picking up a ball on the by-line, dodging the defence then shooting home.

  A happy Blazevic explained his victory in terms of military history. In the Second World War Rommel, the Desert Fox, seemed unbeatable, but the Allies defeated him. ‘Why? Because Rommel had no more petrol to put in his tanks. So me, I wanted to neutralise the German petrol! The German centres, if you prefer. If you don’t get the ball, you can jump higher than anyone in the world, like Bierhoff, but you won’t achieve anything.’

  Italy, for the third consecutive World Cup, as Cesare Maldini wryly reflected, went out on penalties, this time to France at Saint-Denis. Given their persistent lack of ambition it was hard to sympathise with them, though easy to feel sorry for Luigi Di Biagio when his penalty hit the bar. Until this game, when he was somewhat effaced, he’d been Italy’s most effective and constructive midfield player.

  France set the pattern as early as the fifth minute when the big, blond, pony-tailed Emmanuel Petit, a much improved player since his transfer to Arsenal the previous summer, brought a dramatic one-handed save from the excellent Gianluca Pagliuca, then banged in a typical left-foot shot when the ball came out to him from a corner. With Del Piero once more mysteriously preferred to Roberto Baggio and once more so disappointing, France emphatically called the tune in the first half, though their finishing remained inadequate: just before the interval, a clever exchange with Deschamps put Youri Djorkaeff clean through only for him to pull his shot ineptly wide. Overall, there was a dull sterility about an Italian team that used Gianluca Pesotto to follow Zinedine Zidane around, though without ever subduing him.

  In extra time, the Italians did once come close to a goal. Demetrio Albertini, at last producing the kind of pass for which he was once well known, sent through Roberto Baggio, who’d come on after 67 minutes. His cross shot flew just wide. So to penalties, and Italy’s defeat. Afterwards, Cesare Maldini insisted that no errors had been made and bridled when an Italian journalist declared that France had had 70 per cent of the play. ‘I’m happy with my team,’ he said. ‘They gave everything, to the last drop of sweat.’ Soon afterwards be received the ritual ominous vote of confidence from Luciano Nizzola, the President of the Italian Federation. It was no surprise when not long afterwards it was announced that he would be replaced. The World Cup winning goalkeeper of 1982, Dino Zoff, would leave Lazio to succeed him.

  Brazil were given a very hard run for their money in Nantes by Denmark and again their defence looked vulnerable. Roberto Carlos may have been dangerous surging forward from left-back, but he was too easily drawn out of position and it was his clumsy attempt at an overhead kick which presented Denmark with their second goal. Their first arrived after a mere couple of minutes. Moller’s free kick found Brian Laudrup with room and time to go to the goal line and pull the ball back for Martin Jorgensen to score.

  Bebeto, with a flash of his old form, equalised nine minutes later, racing past Helveg to beat Peter Schmeichel. Poor Helveg was a culprit in the second Brazilian goal, too, losing the ball to Roberto Carlos. On it went to Ronaldo, then Rivaldo, who put Brazil ahead. Roberto Carlos’s blunder allowed the vibrant Brian Laudrup to equalise on 50 minutes but 10 minutes later Denmark’s dreams were shattered. They’d thrown caution to the winds when Dunga launched an unopposed Rivaldo, who shot home from 25 yards. Even then Denmark rallied, for after 89 minutes Rieper, a centre-back deployed now at centre-forward, headed against the bar.

  It was Michael Laudrup’s last international and he threw his boots into the crowd. Within days, alas poor Denmark, his younger brother Brian had retired in his turn.

  Was Brazil’s manager still ‘Lucky Zagallo’ (insisting now that his name be spelt with a double I)? It seemed questionable. Signs of pressure were evident and he’d not taken at all kindly to being flanked by another former Brazilian star in Zico, who had no coaching experience. An unkind French critic wrote: ‘Sometimes when he speaks, with all the banalities and clichés, you have the impression his 50 years on the field have eroded his mental faculties.’ But Brazil still clung to their Cup.

  In hot Marseille there was a re-run of the 1978 Final, Holland against Argentina and this time in an exciting game the Dutch prevailed, just. The goal that won the match after 89 minutes, however, was worthy of winning any World Cup Final. It was scored by Dennis Bergkamp with superb virtuosity, almost casually controlling a searching, long dia
gonal ball from Frank De Boer, then, with the sole of his foot, taking it inside Ayala—once more the fall guy—before, with the same right foot, shooting past Roa.

  It was barely a couple of minutes earlier that Ariel Ortega, ending his otherwise distinguished World Cup in shame, had been sent off. Had he not reacted so aggressively when booked for alleged diving in the area after a clash with Stam, Argentina would have kept their one-man advantage (Numan had been sent off after 73 minutes for his second yellow card; the tackle—how history repeats itself—was on Diego Simeone). But Ortega, in his fury, butted the intervening Dutch keeper Van der Sar and off he went.

  Patrick Kluivert, now under full sail, had put Holland ahead after just a dozen minutes when Ronald De Boer crossed from the left to the far post and Bergkamp expertly headed into Kluivert’s path. Claudio Lopez, having his best game up front for Argentina, equalised five minutes later after Juan Veron had split the Dutch defence. Overall, Holland were the better team against an Argentina probably tired from the exertions against England. Next day, Daniel Passarella resigned as their coach.

  So to the semi-finals and another reprise. Brazil against Holland, just as in 1994, though this time penalties would decide in the holders’ favour. And the unexpected hero, pushing away the crucial spot kick by Philip Cocu, would be Claudio Taffarel, Brazilian goalkeeper faute de mieux.

  Did Holland rely too heavily on Dennis Bergkamp? Against Brazil, he had an undistinguished day and the team suffered accordingly. A little ironic, given that manager Guus Hiddink had said beforehand that one of his side’s strengths was that it didn’t, like the 1974 team, rely too heavily on a single player such as Johan Cruyff, who for Hiddink had been below his best in that Final.