by Nick Holt
Elsewhere, West Germany, Hungary and France all qualified comfortably – France coasted past a fading Yugoslavia team – while Bulgaria forced a play-off against Belgium, which they won, to general surprise. Both goals were scored by Georgi Asparuhov (in Bulgarian names ending “hov” the “h” is hard), the Levski Sofia striker. Asparuhov was outstanding for Levski in the European Cup, where they were only narrowly beaten by Benfica. Benfica had a decent striker, too, called Eusébio da Silva Ferreira (I do love a tenuous link), and his goals helped Portugal qualify for the Finals for the first time in a group that included 1962 runners-up Czechoslovakia. Eusébio scored the winner in Prague in a 1–0 win, the key result in a group that also included Romania. Portugal’s only defeat, in Bucharest, came after they had already qualified; Eusébio scored seven of the team’s nine goals. The debutants came to England as many pundits’ nod and a wink tip for success.
Finals
The four groups were located geographically. England would play all their matches at Wembley – it was hoped (assumed?) they would win their group and stay there. The second group would play in Sheffield (at Hillsborough) and Birmingham (Villa Park); the third would stay in the north-west, playing at either Old Trafford or Goodison Park in Liverpool, while the final group would be in the north-east, at Middlesbrough’s Ayresome Park or Sunderland’s Roker Park. Neither of the north-east grounds is in use today, nor is the second London venue, White City, which hosted only the Uruguay v France game. The stadia all had decent capacity and were filled for most of the games, the provincial cities embracing the non-England matches with great enthusiasm and supporting their adopted favourites.
The otherwise seamless organisation of the contest suffered one major hiccough before the start. In March the actual Jules Rimet Trophy was borrowed, after much diplomacy and deliberation, as a showpiece for a Stanley Gibbons stamp exhibition – only for it to be nicked on 20 March, a Sunday. A ransom of £15,000 was demanded, and a pay-off arranged. A go-between was arrested but he refused to give details of his employer. A week later (by which time there were some seriously loose bowels at the FA) David Corbett was walking his dog in South London, when the dog, curious as dogs tend to be, sniffed around a carrier bag tucked under a bush. Guess what the bag contained? Pickles the dog was on the front pages of all the newspapers – the first hero of the World Cup. Mr Corbett pocketed a bigger bonus than any of England’s winning team. The suits at the FA breathed a collective sigh of relief and got on with the task of making money, taking credit for any success and abnegating responsibility for any of the ills that beset the game.
Talking of ills that beset the game, this was the first World Cup where the host country took maximum opportunity to reap economic benefit from having the tournament on home soil. It was small beer to the modern marketing grab-all, but there were mugs, key-rings, shirts, coins, stamps and all sorts of other paraphernalia. For the first time there was a World Cup mascot – a lion called World Cup Willie, the first in a shameful line of cringe-inducing anthropomorphised animals that have polluted the planet.
The favourites in the four groups were England, Argentina, Brazil and Italy – but rarely do all the favourites win the groups in a World Cup and this was no exception.
GROUP 1
The jamboree opened on 11 July with the hosts playing against potentially the toughest opponents in their group, Uruguay. For tough, read uncompromising. No, make that plain dirty. England were no shrinking violets – any side that picked a player like Stiles was clearly happy to mix it – but this was something else. Shirt-pulling, high tackles, spitting, pinching – the South American sides (and a few Italian ones) in the 1960s took football’s dark arts to a new level. This isn’t high-handed European taking the colonial line, they were ugly sides full of ugly characters with chips the size of baked potatoes on their shoulders. Uruguay and Argentina had talent, but they seemed happier negating (i.e. kicking) the opposition than using their creative players. Opening games at World Cup tournaments have a habit of being stinkers – this was probably the worst of the lot.
The other opener saw France and Mexico play out a rather more interesting draw. The young Mexican striker Enrique Borja had a goal (debatably) disallowed in the first half and scored a rather fortunate one at the start of the second. His air shot at Padilla’s centre rebounded rather fortuitously to him off a defender and he forced the ball in via Aubour’s legs. Borja continued to torment the French defence, but France managed an equaliser against the run of play when Hausser caught Chaires in possession and ran away to score with a smart low drive that went in off the post. Borja should have won the game when he missed from close in after clever movement earned him space for a free header, and Hausser could have had a second at the other end when he sent a dipping volley just over. Mexico looked the more skilful side, but a draw was just about fair.
Mexico were really disappointing against England, resorting to a massed defence instead of using Borja’s aerial threat and their quick wide players. England left out the ineffectual Connelly and tried Paine on the right (he proved just as ineffectual), replacing Ball, surprisingly, with Martin Peters of West Ham, another young midfield player who made his debut shortly before the Finals. The game was one-way traffic, and England needed to be patient. Moore went close with a header, and Hunt had the ball in the net only for the goal to be chalked off because Peters strayed offside. England’s first goal of the tournament was a bit special when it came. Bobby Charlton picked up the ball in space inside his own half and accelerated towards the Mexican defence. No challenge came – surely they had been warned about Charlton’s shooting – so the England man just belted a twenty-five-yarder into the far corner with his weaker (!?!) right foot.
Mexico’s response was limp. England created few clear-cut openings and the game was fizzling out before another surge from Charlton put Greaves in. The Tottenham striker’s far from lethal shot was only half-stopped by Calderón, who had already provided a couple of Chaplinesque moments, and Hunt tapped in.
For their second game against Uruguay France dropped their most talked-about player prior to the tournament, the Argentinian-born Nestor Combin. Combin played in Italy (after a successful few years at Lyon), and two years later he was in the Milan squad that played Estudiantes in the Intercontinental Club Cup. Argentina was in the control of a military junta – not for the first or last time – and, shortly after a match in which he had his nose broken and was knocked unconscious, Combin was arrested by the Argentinians for desertion (essentially avoiding military service). It took a few days for the French diplomats to have him released. His replacement for the Uruguay match in ’66 was Héctor de Bourgoing, born in Posadas, Argentina, and with five caps for his native country to his name.
France opened the scoring when their hasty young right-winger Yves Herbet was body-checked by Manicera. The penalty award was iffy; the offence was just outside the area, whatever ITV commentator Hugh Johns claimed, but it was a cynical tackle that merited punishment. De Bourgoing scored the penalty. Uruguay, compelled to play some football, showed they could and scored twice before half-time, first when Rocha shot through a crowd after some patient approach play, and then when a bout of head tennis ended with a fierce angled volley from Cortés. The French never really looked like getting back into it.
The Mexicans were more enterprising again in their last match – they had seemed resigned to their fate against England – but they still couldn’t find the net against that obdurate Uruguayan defence. Another 0–0 draw for Uruguay and a place in the last eight. Mexico recalled their veteran goalkeeper Carbajal to make an appearance in his fifth and final World Cup Finals tournament – and he finally kept a clean sheet, bless ’im.
England needed to beat France to win the group. Ramsey tried his third winger, Callaghan, but kept faith with the rest of the team that beat Mexico. They weren’t great, but then neither were France – although at least they ventured into England’s half occasionally. England put the bal
l in the net five times, but three of them were ruled out for offside and even Hunt’s opener probably should have been ruled out. He was lurking when Jack Charlton headed a cross against the base of the post and had a simple tap-in. Hunt made it 2–0 fifteen minutes before the end when he met Callaghan’s cross with a firm header. Aubour should have done better than palm it into the net – in fairness the Lyon goalkeeper had already made a couple of excellent saves to keep his side alive. Unconvincing from England but the right result, Herbin’s early header was France’s only clear chance. The same player spent the rest of the game limping after a stiff challenge from Stiles, and, when the same player dropped Jacky Simon with a crunching late tackle, England must have feared the worst. In World Cup tournaments fortune favours the home team, not the brave, and Stiles was allowed to stay on by the Peruvian referee. Stiles provided the game’s superior slapstick moment when an attempted twenty-yarder ended up as a pass to Callaghan some ten yards from the corner flag – the Liverpool man was so surprised to get the ball he made a complete pig’s ear of his cross.
It was France’s last appearance in the Finals for twelve years, so none of this squad would make another appearance. One of them did enjoy a particularly proud World Cup moment – Jean Djorkaeff, the right-back, watched his son, Youri, pick up a winners’ medal in 1998.
Job done for England, but at the cost of an injury to Jimmy Greaves, who would miss the quarter-final with a gashed leg and had played his last World Cup Finals match. Greaves was a brilliant, predatory striker with a great scoring ratio wherever he played (including forty-four in fifty-seven internationals), but he never quite found his best form in a major tournament. At least the defence was working – they hadn’t really looked like conceding a goal yet, and Gordon Banks had little chance to display his ability.
GROUP 2
West Germany were a side supposedly in transition, with Herberger’s successor, Helmut Schön, trying to instil fresh blood amongst a few tried and trusted stars like Seeler and the goalkeeper Tilkowski – and Seeler was not yet thirty, despite looking about fifty and seeming to have been around for decades. Only six of their squad had played in a World Cup Finals tournament before. German domestic football had undergone a shake-up since the last World Cup, with the antediluvian dinosaurs in charge of their game finally realising that a professional league was the only way to keep up with the rest of Europe and prevent a haemorrhaging of talent to Italy. The first three winners might surprise the modern reader: Köln (Cologne), Werder Bremen and TSV München 1860 (Munich). Bayern Munich had not yet emerged as Germany’s dominant club; they had won only one league title, and that as far back as 1932.
West Germany had a minor stumble on the way to the Finals. A home draw against Sweden in qualifying left them vulnerable, and Schön took a gamble playing the uncapped Bayern Munich star Beckenbauer in the return in Stockholm. West Germany came from 1–0 down to win and the victory gave them some confidence as well as a superstar in the making.
They made a good start at Hillsborough, thrashing Switzerland 5–0. Beckenbauer and Haller were imperious in midfield and Seeler gave the Swiss defence a right old runaround. The young Cologne midfielder Wolfgang Overath looked a player, too, spraying passes with his cultured left foot. Siggi Held’s brilliant weaving run brought the first goal; he crossed for Seeler, Elsener made a good save and Held tucked in the loose ball. Helmut Haller scored the second after a long, surging run: blonde, arrogant (Cris Freddi: “full of talent as well as himself”) and a notorious diver and actor, Haller was the Aryan dream that non-Germans loved to hate. He scored the fifth here, too, from the penalty spot after Seeler was brought down. With typical disregard for the acceptable conduct of the time he checked his run-up while taking the penalty and poked the call casually into the corner – cheeky from most players, contemptuous from this one. The third was scored by young Beckenbauer. This wasn’t the strolling libero (sweeper) of later years but a quick, urgent, complete midfield player. He had already broken clear of the defence once (Elsener saved his shot well) and now he received the ball after good work by Haller, played a superbly precise one-two with Seeler and slotted the ball under the advancing goalkeeper. The goal wasn’t greeted with the nonchalant shrug of his later years, but a beam of joy from a young player enjoying his outing on the big stage. He added another in the second half – the Swiss just couldn’t contain his runs – picking up a through ball, skipping past the last man and finishing with aplomb. West Germany were outstanding – the Swiss defence not so much.
The following day at Villa Park we saw the best of Argentina, but with enough dark shading to suggest there was trouble brewing. Their coach was still Juan Carlos Lorenzo, who had sent them out with such malevolent intent in 1962 – in the meantime he had produced two ugly, cynical teams at Lazio and Roma. Argentina had bags of ability and it shone as they dominated the early stages, with Onega of River Plate to the fore. Stocky, with powerful, muscular legs and great balance, Onega was a classic Argentinian trequartista (literally trick-artist, an attacking player allowed a free role to use his ability to beat players and create openings), prompting and charging from a deep-lying position – a forerunner of Maradona, Ortega and Tévez. Behind Onega the captain Rattin was a massive presence, both physically and psychologically, a towering, glowering giant with a demeanour that told opponents this was not their lucky day. Up front was Luis Artime, a pure finisher with excellent movement and first touch and a hammer of a left foot. The attacking left-back Marzolini was a class act, too, strong in the tackle and a genuine threat coming forward. Spain had good players as well, and won the European Championships two years earlier with this squad, but most of them were the wrong side of thirty; their inspiration was the Internazionale playmaker Luis Suárez (no, no, no, not that one, he wasn’t born yet!), and he nearly opened the scoring with a delicious swerver with the outside of his right foot as Spain came back into the game.
There were chances galore but the first goal came past the hour, when González wriggled free on the right and crossed (mishit shot?) for the lurking Artime to help himself. Artime’s second, the winner, was spectacular; Onega’s pass was slightly behind him but his first touch deflected it forwards where he could hit it with his left foot one stride later – the shot flew past an astonished Iribar. The Basque goalkeeper was starting a good international career, the latest in a long line of terrific Spanish goalies. Spain’s equaliser, sandwiched between Artime’s goals, was a messy affair. A cross from Suárez was headed up into the air and a clash between Spanish debutant Pirri and Roma in the Argentina goal saw the ball land in the net.
West Germany’s second game was against Argentina and suddenly they looked less indomitable. This World Cup saw an uneasy match of South American skulduggery and European machismo, with the referees and officials generally leaning towards the Europeans. The north European game has always found old-fashioned fouling more acceptable than the underhand stuff. It was Argentina who had a man dismissed – Albrecht, rightly, for a horrible assault on Weber – but a couple of Germans could easily have followed for bone-jarring tackles. Both sides knew a draw would probably help them through so chances were few and far between. FIFA issued a warning after the match – but only to Argentina, fuelling the sense of injustice that Lorenzo exploited to fire up his players.
Spain beat Switzerland – they were still amateurs and looked a level below the other sides in the group – with two second-half goals after the Swiss took the lead with a nicely worked number. Manuel Sanchis dribbled half the length of the field past some feeble resistance before toe-poking the ball over Elsener as he came out, then Gento rolled back the years with a blistering run down the left and a fine cross that Amancio met with a bullet of a diving header. Really, really good goal. The Swiss went home with nul points, losing their (very boring) last match 2–0 to Argentina.
In their final match West Germany gave away the lead against a depleted Spain (no Suárez, del Sol or Gento, three of their most experienced
players) before re-asserting themselves. The first German goal was a super finish from the recalled left-winger Emmerich, in for Haller, who had a niggle. Emmerich was a spit for Helmut Rahn physically but a shadow of him as a player, all bulk and bluster and rarely much end product (this goal, thrashing the ball high and hard from an unfeasible angle, a definite exception). A draw was enough for West Germany but a late winner from Seeler, tucking home Held’s cross, put them through as group winners and avoided an early match-up with England. They might well have won at that stage; they certainly started the tournament better than England.
GROUP 3
Like Group 2, this foursome appeared to be a case of two from three, presumably Brazil plus either Hungary or Portugal – most pundits favoured Portugal, the normally perspicacious Hugh McIlvaney described Hungary as “wan, unworthy successors” to the great 1950s team. All three sides were packed with attacking talent.
The first game went to form, with Brazil beating an overawed Bulgaria side – though not so overawed that they refrained from kicking Pelé out of the next match. The maestro opened the scoring, belting a free-kick through the wall and past a surprised goalkeeper. Garrincha despatched another free-kick, but he didn’t look the same player as four years earlier.