by Nick Holt
England were offered the vacant place in the tournament left by the Austrians’ default, but declined; at least they sent observers to watch this tournament, unlike in 1930 and 1934. The rest of the European-dominated list of finalists arrived by means of a short qualifying tournament – except Romania, Brazil, Cuba and the Dutch East Indies (roughly equivalent to modern day Indonesia), whose prospective opponents all withdrew. None of the British teams entered, but Ireland (newly inaugurated as an independent state in 1937 and not yet a Republic) gave it a go, only to lose to Norway over two legs. Hungary, who were one of the better European teams, beat Greece, who weren’t, 11–1; Greece earned the fixture by beating Palestine, the only time a team bearing that name has entered the competition.
Argentina, beginning their splendid (?) isolation, withdrew in favour of Brazil, while Uruguay were just too skint to send a team.
1938
FRANCE
Ten venues in nine cities were used for the 1938 tournament; Lyon was unlucky, it was selected as a host city, but Australia’s withdrawal meant that the only game due to be played there was called off.
Paris: Parc des Princes
The Parc des Princes was opened in 1897 as a velodrome, and was the traditional finishing point for the Tour de France from 1903 until the 1960s. In 1972 a new Parc was constructed without the cycle track and has played host to Paris St Germain and the national French team, as well as the French rugby union team.
Paris: Stade Olympique de Colombes (or Stade Olympique Yves-Manoir)
The stadium used for the 1938 final was built for the 1924 Olympic Games and held 45,000 people. It has expanded and contracted in the years, but was marginalized by the appearance of the refurbished Parc des Princes in 1972. Racing Club Paris still uses the ground, as does Racing Métro 92 (rugby union).
Marseille: Stade Vélodrome
The biggest sporting venue in the south of France was built especially for the 1938 finals on the site of the old velodrome (but you guessed that, right?). It became the home of OM (Olympique de Marseille) and remains its home.
Bordeaux: Parc Lescure
Parc Lescure was, and remains, the home of FC Girondins de Bordeaux, and holds just under 35,000 people. Its new name is Stade Chaban-Delmas, named for a chap who served as Mayor of Bordeaux for forty-eight years – most people still refer to it as Lescure.
Lille: Stade Victor Boucquey
This 15,000 capacity ground was knocked down in 1975. It was the home of Lille and the club’s forerunners Olimpique Lillois.
Toulouse: Stade Municipal de Toulouse
This famous old stadium was opened for the 1938 World Cup and remains the home of Toulouse FC and occasionally for Heineken Cup matches, the powerful rugby union club based in the city. The capacity is 35,472.
Strasbourg: Stade de la Meinau
La Meinau, as it is popularly known, is the municipal stadium of Strasbourg and serves as the home for RC Strasbourg, once a top-flight club, but, after going into liquidation, now fighting its way back up the divisions à la Rangers.
Reims: Vélodrome Municipal
This small stadium (21,600), now called the Stade Auguste Delaune, is home to Stade de Reims, a famous old club which reached the European Cup Final twice in the 1950s.
Antibes: Stade du Fort Carré
Antibes is a small town on the Cote d’Azur between Nice and Cannes, and its tiny 7,000 stadium hosted one game (Sweden versus Cuba) in the 1938 finals.
Le Havre: Stade Cavée Verte
Another small stadium that holds just over 16,000. Now known as the Stade Jules Deschaseaux, the ground was replaced in 2012 by the Stade Océane as the home of second tier club Le Havre AC.
The Dutch East Indies would probably have lost to Japan, had Japan not had the small matter of a war with China to attend to.
Paris was the home of the World Cup, brainchild of a Frenchman, but it was a city (and continent) in turmoil in 1938. Hitler was running roughshod over the wishes of anyone who disagreed with Nazi policy in his own country, while the rest of Western Europe was deluding itself into believing he wasn’t that bad, or, worse, installing a government with similar leanings, like in Spain. In the East Stalin was too busy imposing his own form of dictatorship on the Soviet bloc to oppose Herr Hitler.
FIRST ROUND
SECOND ROUND
Germany’s footballing stock had dipped alarmingly in the months leading up to the tournament, and the hostility that greeted them in Paris, where the locals tore down their swastikas and threw bottles at the team bus, came as a shock to the travelling Germans whose heads were full of Nazi propaganda. Their form was dodgy, their only recent victory a narrow one over Luxembourg, and in Switzerland they faced a team who had beaten them (and England) recently, and who had the support of just about everyone else at the tournament, especially when, unlike a compliant England team earlier that year, they refused to give the Nazi salute. The Swiss, under an astute coach Karl Rappan (an Austrian, ironically), employed their central defender in a deep-lying position akin to a modern sweeper in a formation the European press called the Swiss Bolt.
It took them a replay, and they went behind in both matches (2–0 in the second), but the Swiss won through 4–2 with two goals from Trello Abegglen*. Abegglen was the brother of Max Abegglen, who had retired the previous year with 34 goals to his name (Trello scored 29) – a record for a Swiss international until Alexander Frei topped it in 2008. Trello died aged only thirty-five in a train accident in 1944. Switzerland, with one of their best ever sides, were unlucky in 1938, having to play Hungary, one of the tournament’s best sides, only three days after the replay against Germany. The Germans were goose-stepping home two weeks earlier than they hoped; the meshing of the German and Austrian sides had proved far less than the sum of its parts – Cris Freddi, for once, gets it wrong in his excellent book in suggesting Sepp Herberger was keen to use the Austrian players.
After their thrashing of Greece in qualifying, the Hungarians were handed equally untesting opposition in the first round, and racked up another six against the Dutch East Indies without ever getting out of second gear. The Dutch East Indies team were a scratch XI and pretty clueless – none of them played international football again. Hungary proved too strong for a tired Swiss side, and their skilful centre-forward György Sárosi looked the equal of any forward in the tournament.
FIRST ROUND
SECOND ROUND
Cuba, and especially their buccaneering goalkeeper Benito Carvajales, were one of the few positives from this most oppressive World Cup. They arrived in confident voice and backed it up with victory over Romania in a first-round replay. The first game started as expected, with Romania taking charge and opening the scoring, but Cuba’s fast and tricky forwards were causing problems and they equalised, then took the lead. Romania’s late equaliser took the game to extra-time, and they had to come from behind again when Héctor Socorro scored his second goal.
The second game followed a similar pattern, with Romania comfortable at 1–0 at half-time, but nervy when Socorro equalised soon into the second half, and beaten when Fernández added another. Most accounts report the second goal as highly debatable but Cuba earned their place in the second round. After a good game in the first match, Carvajales was left out of the replay in favour of Juan Ayra (described as “a remarkable acrobat”, which in fact he was). Far from being resentful, Carvajales predicted (correctly) that his understudy would have a fine match and Cuba would win.
Cuba’s second-round opponents, Sweden, had a bye as a result of a draw caused by Austria’s absence. Carvajales probably wished Ayra had kept his place as the Cuban defence was overwhelmed and Sweden ran in eight goals with three apiece for Gustav Wetterström and Harry Andersson (on his debut), the first time two players had scored a hat-trick in the same finals match.
FIRST ROUND
SECOND ROUND
Germany weren’t the only unpopular side in France in 1938. In Marseille there was a massive demo
nstration waiting to greet the Italian team on their arrival, with a near riot ensuing when riot police with batons waded in. In the stadium – the famous Stade Vélodrome – when the Italians went to make their fascist salute to the four corners of the ground the anthem was drowned out by the derision of the French.
The game itself hardly went to plan for Italy, either, as they were outplayed by Norway for much of the game after scoring an early goal. An equaliser from left-winger Arne Brustad (Norway’s first genuine top-class footballer) took the game to extra-time; Norway nearly finished the job inside ninety minutes only for Aldo Olivieri (from the unfashionable Lucchese club in Tuscany, now in the fourth tier of Italian football) to intervene with an outstanding save. In extra-time a mistake from Olivieri’s opposite number Henry Johansen allowed Silvio Piola to score what proved to be the winner and Italy scraped through to face the hosts France and another wave of hostility in the second round.
France kicked off their campaign at the Yves du Manoir Stadium in Colombes, built for the 1924 Olympic Games and renamed after a tragic French sporting hero, rugby player Yves du Manoir, who died in 1928 in a plane crash aged only twenty-four. Their opponents were Belgium, under English coach Jack Butler. Butler masterminded Belgium’s win over England in 1936, but that was a weak England side and Belgium were no match for France here, going down 3–1 with Jean Nicolas, unluckily injured in 1934, involved in all three goals. The French team also included Oscar Heisserer from Racing Strasbourg, who would later turn down repeated attempts by the Germans to recruit him first to the SS and then to the German national team. He survived, unlike many others, and was rewarded with the captaincy of the national side. His story is in stark contrast to another French international captain, Alex Villaplane from the 1930 World Cup team, who was executed for collaborating with the Nazis during the war.
The game was a disappointing sign-off for Raymond Braine, the best Belgian player of his generation. Braine had missed the 1930 tournament because the Belgian FA disapproved of players owning cafés, and Braine refused to give up his secondary occupation. Instead he took his talents to Czechoslovakia where he made a fearsome inside-forward pairing with Nejedly. Braine was offered Czech citizenship but he declined and was back at his first club, Beerschot, and back in the Belgian team by the time the 1938 tournament started.
The Colombes stadium was only half-full for the game against Belgium – it was packed for the Italy game. Both sides preferred to play in blue, but something had to give and it was the Italians who were told to change. The order came from Rome that the change strip would not be the usual white but fascist black. The gesture did not go unnoticed by crowd or press.
After ten minutes the groans could be heard in Montmartre when Di Lorto made a total hash of a tame shot from Colaussi. Goalkeeper and ball both ended up in the back of the net; ball propelled by goalkeeper, goalkeeper via a collision with the post. The groans turned to cheers when Heisserer equalised a minute later, but the French were fire-fighting and surviving, not dominating.
Pozzo, still manager of Italy, had tweaked his side, omitting the ponderous Monzeglio, no longer the player he was in 1934, for the younger Foni. It was Piola who made the difference in the second half, scoring with a header from the debutant Biavati’s cross and lashing in a third at the near post. Italy went through, and with something to spare.
FIRST ROUND
SECOND ROUND
Brazil, the sole South American representatives, brought a squad of mainly new faces to the 1938 Finals. One a little more familiar was the raw centre-forward of 1934, Leônidas. Strangely he hadn’t played for the national team in the interim, but here he seemed a more potent player. To the pace and shooting power he had added awareness and positioning – and he had better colleagues, at least up front. Some reports claim the striker played in his bare feet in the opening game. The truth is less interesting; he felt his boots were sticking in the mud and removed them briefly before the referee told him to put them back on.
Brazil opened against Poland in what was undoubtedly the tournament’s most fun fixture. A match played on a quagmire in Strasbourg saw eleven goals shared between the sides. A few were good goals, a few more were the result of defending that would give Alan Hansen a heart attack on Match of the Day. Brazil led 3–1 at half-time and should have gone on to win easily, but their midfield players stood off Poland striker Ernest Wilimowski and he helped himself to a second-half hat-trick, including an equaliser in the dying moments to make it 4–4* – at times there were two, three or even four Polish attackers bearing down on the Brazilian goal, with Domingos the only defender attempting to stop them. Leônidas scored twice more to complete his own hat-trick in extra-time to make the game safe before Wilimowski became the first player to score four in a match in the Finals. He remains the only man to do so and end up on the losing side.
Wilimowski scored another fine hat-trick the following year as Poland beat Hungary 4–2 in a friendly match. A month later the Germans invaded and there was no more football. Wilimowski was of German extraction, and during the war he played a few internationals for the country that had occupied his birthplace. Whether he was coerced or went along merrily is unclear, but Wilimowski was brought up in Silesia speaking German – not all the Poles were as anti-German as we might imagine. Assertions in some sources that he had six toes on his right foot cannot be verified.
Brazil’s second-round game took place in a swanky new stadium in Bordeaux. Their opponents, Czechoslovakia, should have been a good side, as they still had many of the ingredients that made them such tricky opponents in 1934. Somehow they never quite gelled; it took three goals in extra-time to see off a weakened Dutch team reduced to ten men. Brazil, quite rightly, identified Nejedly as the Czech’s main threat, but there was nothing right about the way they dealt with him. Zezé was sent off early for a wild lunge but the tackles kept flying in and the bruised and battered Czechs responded – Riha and Machado followed Zezé before half-time for scrapping. Nejedly’s penalty equalised Leônidas’ first-half strike, but soon after the playmaker was off with a broken leg and goalkeeper Plánicka finished the game with a fractured arm. Neither made the replay two days later.
The second match went off calmly as both sides made wholesale changes, mostly enforced on the Czechs’ part – the Brazilians appeared belatedly contrite about their conduct in the first game. Leônidas stayed and equalised Kopecky’s first-half opener; Roberto headed the winner five minutes later. Brazil were through, but faced their third match in five days against the holders in Marseille.
SEMI-FINALS
THIRD-PLACE MATCH
Sweden had reached the semi-finals almost by default – a bye then a gimme against Cuba – and were still an unknown quantity. Hungary also had an easy first-round tie but then looked mightily impressive against a good Swiss team and started here as clear favourites. It was justified. After Sweden took a first-minute lead, the Hungarians refused to panic, carried on with their measured, fluid passing and tore the Swedish defence apart. Sárosi and Gyula Zsengellér were great rivals in domestic football, the spearheads of Ferencváros and Ujpest respectively, but here they dovetailed well, Sárosi dropping deep to launch Zsengellér and his own club colleague Géza Toldi. The 1950s is hailed as the Golden Age of Hungarian football, and rightly so, but this earlier lot were far from ordinary.
Brazil, despite the bruising encounter with Czechoslovakia, were the crowd favourites in Marseille simply because their opponents were Italy. But they were without Leônidas, who was simply too knackered to play after his exertions in the earlier rounds – suggestions that he was saved for the final are way off mark; Brazil would have taken no chances against opponents of this calibre. What was unfortunate was the fact that Brazil’s most natural substitute, Niginho, was being harried by the Italian authorities; he had dual citizenship and had broken a contract with Lazio to return to Brazil, thus avoiding military service. Brazil had to compromise and use Romeu, an inside-forward, in the cent
re.
However loathed they were in France, the Italians were good. Meazza was experienced and in his prime, and had an instinctive link with the other inside-forward, his Inter club colleague Giovanni Ferrari. Silvio Piola was visibly growing in confidence and potency, and the new wingers were providing plenty of ammunition. At the back Olivieri was a safe pair of hands and, in the twenty-two-year-old Rava, Pozzo had discovered a more than adequate replacement for the discarded Monzeglio.
Italy controlled the game, untroubled at the back in Leônidas’ absence and patient up front. The goals came in the second half, first from Colaussi and then a coolly taken penalty from Meazza after Domingos dragged down Piola. Piola was a spiky, physical presence and he troubled all the defences he faced in this tournament. He scored thirty goals in thirty-four games for his country, and would surely have scored more but for the war. His last cap came against England in 1952, aged thirty-nine. It is Piola’s record as a serial goalscorer in Serie A that stands out; he is the league’s most prolific scorer, with 290 goals for Pro Vercelli, Lazio, Torino, Juventus and lastly Novara – for all but Torino and Juve, he remains the club’s highest scorer.