Mammoth Book of the World Cup

by Nick Holt

  Bologna: Stadio Renato Dall’Ara

  Both grounds were playing host to their second World Cup finals tournaments, having both undergone extensive refurbishment to make them fit for purpose. Bologna saw David Platt score a late winner for England against Belgium.

  Turin: Stadio delle Alpi

  It does seem an extravagance to build a new stadium for a World Cup and then knock it down only sixteen years later, but that’s what happened to the Stadio delle Alpi, the scene of England’s defeat to West Germany on penalties in 1990.

  Bari: Stadio San Nicola

  If Italy is shaped like a boot, as it is often described, Bari is roughly where the Achilles tendon would be. The San Nicola was a 58,000-capacity extravagance built for the World Cup, but the stadium has never been completely filled for a match.

  Verona: Stadio Marc’Antonio Bentegodi

  The Marc’Antonio is home to both Verona clubs, Chievo and Hellas. Hellas regained their Serie A status for 2012–13. Considering they were given an unattractive group, the games at both Verona and Udine were well-attended.

  Udine: Stadio Friuli

  Udine is in the Friuli-Venezia region to the north-east of Italy, only twenty-five miles from the border with Slovenia. The stadium was opened in the 1960s and tarted up for the 1990 finals; its tenant, Udinese, have punched above their weight in Serie A for almost twenty years.

  Cagliari: Stadio Comunale Sant’ Elia

  The main city on the island of Sardinia, Cagliari was used as a dumping ground for trouble by the Italian authorities, hosting all three England group games. The ground was built after the club won Serie A in 1970, but they have never since matched those glory days.

  Palermo: Stadio La Favorita

  This atmospheric stadium hosted the other games in England’s group. The local team, Citta di Palermo, has been strong in recent years but was surprisingly relegated from Serie A in 2013; the club plans to build a new ground which it doesn’t have to rent from the city.

  The construction and engineering for the stadia and surrounding infrastructure became the subject of a massive investigation two years later when it was discovered that the entire project was a mass of kickbacks and profiteering. Tangentopoli, the Italians called it (Bribe City is a rough translation), and the follies included an underground railway in Rome that was rendered obsolete the moment the tournament ended. Hundreds of labourers were injured and twenty-four died, but there were no significant prosecutions.

  Not that the competing nations were concerned with any of that; there was significantly less griping about facilities and playing conditions in a country that had a settled and wealthy football establishment. Footballers (sportsmen in general) have always been able to gloss over the political and social background to their competition; perhaps that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

  Qualifying

  With Argentina guaranteed a place as the holders, Brazil, Uruguay and Colombia made up the South American quartet. Colombia needed to see off Israel (mystifyingly placed in the Oceania section) in a tight two-leg play-off settled by a solitary goal.

  The group containing Brazil, Chile and Venezuela finished in extraordinary fashion. Chile, needing a victory in Rio to qualify, were a goal down with just over twenty minutes to play. Their goalkeeper, Roberto Rojas, suddenly fell to his knees in his own penalty area, bleeding profusely from a wound apparently inflicted by something thrown from the crowd. The Chileans left the field and refused to continue, but their ploy to have the game annulled or awarded to them was rumbled by a subsequent investigation that revealed Rojas had a razor blade concealed in his glove and his wound was self-inflicted. For once FIFA acted swiftly and correctly; Rojas was banned for life along with his manager, and Chile were told they would play no part in qualification for the 1994 Finals tournament.

  Uruguay qualified on goal difference after both they and Bolivia disposed of Peru rather easily – Peru were a spent force after their excellent decade from 1970. Uruguay seemed to have discovered a goalscorer to go with the approach play of Francescoli; Ruben Sosa of Lazio scored five times in four matches. Arnoldo Iguarán was similarly influential as Colombia squeezed past Paraguay and Ecuador. Both strikers travelled to Italy (not that Sosa had far to go as he lived in Rome!) with exciting things expected of them.

  A North American place was thrown open by the disqualification of Mexico for fielding ineligible players in a youth tournament. In a five-team group that also counted as the CONCACAF championship Costa Rica (who were in the final pool by dint of Mexico’s expulsion) finished their games early and seemed sure to qualify. Second place was a straight contest between the USA and Trinidad & Tobago and it all came down to a winner-takes-all match in November, 1989. US defender Paul Caligiuri’s goal settled it and the USA were in the Finals for the first time since 1950. With typical overstatement the US media used the careworn phrase “the shot heard around the world” to celebrate Caligiuri’s goal and proclaim the re-emergence of US soccer. The phrase was actually coined to herald a miracle shot by Gene Sarazen at the 1935 US Masters when he holed his second at the monster par-5 fifteenth on the way to winning the trophy. The rest of the world, US media hyperbole notwithstanding, wasn’t quaking. The Americans were solid and hard-working but scored only six goals in eight games in this pool. Costa Rica had a little more flair but a leaky defence.

  South Korea and the United Arab Emirates (for the first time) represented Asia, having finished the top two in a six-team group, which was played out as a mini-tournament in Singapore. South Korea looked much the most accomplished side, while the Emirates qualified with four draws and a 2–1 in over China courtesy of two late goals. They were the we’ll have them, please team in the draw.

  African qualification was tainted with tragedy and violence. During one of the groups used to determine the four qualifiers for the final stage, Nigeria’s Sammi Okwaraji collapsed and died from heart failure during a game against Angola. The game was abandoned with ten minutes on the clock and the result stood; neither side qualified. The last four were Cameroon and three North African sides and the draw threw Egypt and Algeria, never the best of friends, together. The first game in Constantine was a 0–0 draw, and the return in Cairo was played in front of a capacity crowd. Egypt scored after four minutes through Hossam Hassan, but the Algerians claimed their goalkeeper was baulked by another Egyptian forward (they were right). The referee Ali Ben Nasser (of Hand of God) fame gave the goal and pretty much every other decision the home team claimed. At the end of the game he was mobbed by furious Algerian players and officials and there was a huge ruckus in the changing rooms and in the media room. When the Egyptian team doctor was hit in the eye and blinded by a broken bottle, the finger was pointed at Lakhdar Belloumi, the Algerian striker, who was handed a prison sentence in his absence by an Egyptian court. The court order for his arrest was only rescinded twenty years later in 2009; the real culprit was reported as the team’s reserve goalkeeper. All a bit unsavoury. Cameroon won through with far less fuss, beating Tunisia home and away.

  Most of the usual suspects from Europe turned up. West Germany and Holland were drawn together, but with the top two from all but one European group to qualify, it was a coast for both teams and they played out what for them were two quiet draws. This didn’t give much of a clue about what was to come in the Finals. Wales never lost by more than the odd goal, but most of their quality players were a bit long in the tooth and they finished bottom of the group behind Finland.

  France were in transition after the retirement of the Carré Magnifique, and they were the most high-profile casualty of the qualifying stage. A dropped point away to Cyprus proved fatal, and Scotland pipped them to second place by a point; they earned victory in Cyprus with a last-minute goal from Richard Gough. Scotland’s crucial match was a two-nil win over the French at Hampden with a brace from Mo Johnston, whose six goals were crucial in qualifying. Johnston’s partnership with Ally McCoist was Scotland’s main cause for optimism. A gifted
Yugoslavia team waltzed away at the top of the group and went to Italy with some confidence, boasting talents like Stojkovic, Vujovic and the mercurial Savicevic.

  Scotland were joined in the Finals by England, who qualified without conceding a goal but still finished second behind Sweden in their group by dint of three 0–0 draws. They needed a draw from their last game in Poland and got it – just; Poland hit the bar with seconds to go. The most memorable image of the campaign was Terry Butcher, head covered in blood-stained bandages after suffering a nasty head wound during the vital draw in Stockholm. Butcher probably wouldn’t have been allowed to continue now adays, but he did, and earned iconic status with the fans. Sports fans will always appreciate a player putting it on the line for the cause, far more than they will admire a dilettante match winner who produces one in every three matches.

  Changes had been demanded after the debacle of England’s early exit from the 1988 European Championships, and, although they weren’t huge, they were crucial. Des Walker was installed as a replacement for Tony Adams – Adams was not yet the towering influence he became the following decade. Stuart Pearce was immediately picked and Kenny Sansom retired – Sansom played a year or two too long. Up front Peter Beardsley provided a foil for Lineker’s predatory instincts and behind them, instead of Glenn Hoddle there was the energy and drive of Paul Gascoigne, the man Hoddle never forgave for displacing him. Few players divide critics as much as Hoddle. Some remember him as a great player misused and played out of position at international level – and it is true that the English style and system never really suited him. Others (me included) remember too many games when much was expected and little received – a tendency to go missing on the big occasion. Hoddle is in good company in this regard; World Cup history is littered with big name club players who didn’t enjoy the party. He was undoubtedly gifted – his passing was the equal of Johnny Haynes – he just lacked that little bit extra needed to impose himself on a game at the very highest level. And Bobby Robson never solved the conundrum of how to play Hoddle and Bryan Robson in the same side. The answer was three at the back, but England only adopted the system in panic during the 1990 campaign – too late for Hoddle. Gascoigne came to the tournament on the back of a superb display against Czechoslovakia – a timely performance as Robson was frustrated by Gascoigne’s childish antics and indiscipline.

  Belgium and Czechoslovakia headed a tough group that left an improving Portugal team stranded. Both qualifiers earned a draw in Lisbon, which ultimately cost Portugal. The Czechs had high hopes of their centre-forward, the long-haired Tomás Skuhravy, while Belgium had their captain Jan Ceulemans, one of their all-time greats, playing in his third World Cup Finals tournament and still a major performer at thirty-three.

  Both Ireland teams were in a group with Spain and Hungary, and this time it was the south who emerged strongest. After a poor start in which they failed to find the net in their first three games they won a run of three home games in the spring of 1989 and crushed Northern Ireland 3–0 in October to virtually clinch their place. Ireland weren’t a particularly gifted or attractive side but they did their “thing” well, and had the unsentimental manager they needed to implement their direct game. England’s World Cup-winning centre-half Jack Charlton had no more than a decent record as a club manager when he was approached by the FA of Ireland as a surprise choice for the national team. They qualified for their first major championship (Euro ’88) two years later and comfortably outperformed England (not difficult). Ireland had a good crop of players, especially in defence where Charlton could choose from Paul McGrath, one of the best in the world, the experienced David O’Leary and the uncompromising and consistent Mick McCarthy, a natural leader.

  The Soviet Union, finalists in the 1988 European Championships, and perennial dark horses who always fell short, made it through again, the last time the Communist amalgam of states would compete as a combined entity. Lobanovsky still had the core of the fine team from 1986, and had the added luxury of Alexei Mikhailichenko, who had emerged as a genuine world-class midfield player. Austria qualified with them from a weak group.

  Denmark were favourites to qualify from the top group and went to Bucharest for their last match needing a draw to win the group. They had beaten Romania, their hosts, comfortably in Copenhagen only a month earlier. The game was a minor classic. Denmark took the lead after six minutes when a brilliant Brian Laudrup run set up a tap-in for Flemming Poulsen. The younger Laudrup was still only twenty but he and his brother promised great things to come for their country.

  Romania had some good young players of their own, mostly with Steaua Bucharest, who had just finished runners-up in the 1989 European Cup. The two best of them combined to find an equaliser when Gheorghe Hagi’s flat cross was won in the air by Marius Lăcătus; Balint hooked in the knock down. The second came from an incisive run by right-back Dan Petrescu; Peter Schmeichel came out to quash the threat, the ball broke free and Ioan Sabau put home the loose ball. The battered old Steaua stadium was in uproar with the entire 30,000 bouncing up and down in unison and making the noise of three times that number.

  A sublime piece of skill in the second half nearly brought a third for Romania. A beautiful curled pass from Hagi found Lăcătus twelve yards out on an angle; the winger killed the ball with his first touch and, realising Schmeichel was charging out to block, slowed his foot through the ball and lifted a perfect lob over the ’keeper – no easy task, Schmeichel was massive. The ball dropped towards the goal but slowly enough that a defender was able to get behind his goalkeeper and head off the line.

  Poulsen missed Denmark’s best chance of an equaliser, putting Laudrup’s cut-back into the side netting, and a minute later another curled pass from Hagi caused problems in the Danish defence. Sabau nicked the ball past the last defender and again Schmeichel’s block fell kindly for a Romanian attacker – Balint – to slide home. Hagi, never one for the easy option, managed to get himself sent off for a crude tackle, but his colleagues dug in for the last twenty-odd minutes and Romania were top of the group and on their way to Italy – only their second post-war appearance in the Finals and first for twenty years. Denmark were the unlucky second-placed team – they had fewer points than the others and didn’t make the cut. If that was bad luck it evened out two years later when the expulsion of Yugoslavia from the 1992 European Championships gave them a late passport to the Finals – they grasped the opportunity with both hands.

  Finals

  The draw, held in Rome in 1990, was a glitzy affair with Sophia Loren and Luciano Pavarotti. It was a bile-inducing sight, watching the FIFA officials preen and simper in the presence of genuine stars. And how we loved Ciao, the ghastly little stick man who was to be the tournament’s symbol. We did, didn’t we?

  The draw was kind to Brazil, England and West Germany. West Germany was about to become plain old Germany again; the Berlin Wall was breached in the Autumn of 1989, and officially dismantled while the tournament was taking place. East Germany re-adopted the Deutschmark in 1990, and this World Cup was the last major sporting event where the two competed as separate countries. Italy had a testing group, while Belgium, the fifth seeds after their exploits in the 1980s, had a tricky section with Spain and Uruguay. The shortest straws were pulled out by the teams in Group B, where Argentina, the holders, the Soviet Union, Romania and Cameroon, the best of the teams from the wannabes pot, would face off.

  The favourites were Holland, the European Champions from 1988; Brazil were always contenders, as were West Germany, and Argentina still had Maradona. The Italians had some good young players and the usual tight defence and they couldn’t be discounted on home ground. The Soviets were many people’s tip, while Yugoslavia, so full of talent, had their admirers.

  GROUP A

  Italy had bags of talent in midfield – Donadoni, De Napoli, the Roma playmaker Giannini – but didn’t score many goals. Gianluca Vialli had just helped Sampdoria win their first (and hitherto only) Serie A title, bu
t his game was about space and movement and threat rather than finishing. Alongside him, Napoli’s Andrea Carnevale was the current preference without really looking like the answer to the problem. The Juventus striker, Toto Schillaci, had made the squad after a good first season in the top flight and was the only obvious goalscoring back-up, with young Roberto Baggio as the alternative to Vialli.

  The first game served only to highlight Italy’s problem. Carnevale missed chances galore, one a ghastly spoon over the bar from six yards out with the goalkeeper beaten. Vialli played well, but for all his movement and running didn’t look a major goal threat. Off came Carnevale with fifteen minutes to go, replaced by Schillaci for only his second international appearance. A few minutes later Vialli did wonderfully well to twist and fire over a superb cross. Schillaci timed his jump between the centre-halves perfectly and bulleted a header past Lindenberger. In four minutes on the pitch Schillaci had saved his manager, the articulate and likeable Azeglio Vicini, a torrent of abuse from the Italian media.

  The next game against the USA followed the same pattern except the solitary goal came earlier, from Giannini. Graceful and fluid, Giannini was known as Il Principe (The Prince) by his admirers – not for his Machiavellian capacity for intrigue but for his grace and bearing on the pitch. Giannini is an icon at Roma, where he played over four hundred games in a fifteen-year stint after taking a while to establish himself, but he never fully scaled the heights as an international. Here he burst into the area after Vialli cleverly and unselfishly let the ball run through his legs and finished with a powerful left-foot drive. Nicola Berti won a penalty after thirty-three minutes but Vialli’s kick pinged off the post and away, and the Italians had a goal debatably chalked off for offside. Zenga made an excellent double save from a free-kick and the follow-up, but that apart the Stati Uniti offered as little in attack as the Austrians.