by Nick Holt
Portugal met Hungary the next day. Hungary had built another tidy side after the break-up of their great 1940s team. The genius playmaker Flórián Albert was back, as was another who impressed as a youngster in 1962, centre-half Kálmán Mészöly (who I shall mention as little as possible – these stress marks are a nightmare to type). They had also unearthed a tricky and mobile player in Ferenc Bene of Ujpest Dózsa, converted from inside-forward to goalscoring winger. Portugal were a team of two halves; a defence built around Sporting of Lisbon, and an attack consisting entirely of Benfica players – like Benfica, the team was better going forward than in retreat. The undoubted star was the Mozambique-born Eusébio.
For all the wonderful players on both sides, the game was decided by some crappy goalkeeping. Szentmihályi, the Hungarian goalkeeper, was injured in the warm-up but had to play through the pain as the line-ups had already been declared – I’m against meaningless substitutions, and would ban them in the last five minutes or injury-time, but this was plainly unfair. After only two minutes he stood like a statue on his line as José Alberto charged in and headed home a distinctly soft opener. The next hour was end-to-end, with Albert pulling the strings for Hungary and Eusébio always threatening on the break. If Albert had brought his best finishing with him to go with his wonderful approach play, Hungary would have been out of sight, but five times he got a sight of goal and five times failed to score, hitting the bar with one header. Mészöly (he just had to get involved, didn’t he?) was even worse with his one chance, blazing over with the goalkeeper grounded.
Still, anything Szentmihályi (who made one superb save from Eusébio) could do, Carvalho could match, and he completely bottled a challenge with the onrushing Albert, scooping the ball to Bene, who gratefully accepted the gift. Szentmihályi wasn’t done yet, though, and Portugal were back in the lead five minutes later when the hapless minder let a woeful cross from Torres (six foot four centre-forward on the right wing?) bounce up at a perfect height for José Augusto to head his second. He can never have scored an easier brace.
Hungary missed their last chance for a point when Farkas couldn’t put away an inch-perfect through ball from Albert, and Szentmihályi had the last word, running around under a Eusébio cross like a headless chicken, getting nowhere near it and watching helplessly as Torres calmly headed home at the back post. Hungary’s veteran defender Sándor Matrai threw himself to the ground in frustration after Portugal’s second goal – now he just turned his back on his goalkeeper and walked silently away.
The game had lit up the tournament, and there was better to come a mere two days later.
WORLD CUP CLASSIC No.4
15 July 1966, Goodison Park, Liverpool; 51,387
Referee: Ken Dagnall (England)
Coaches: Vicente Feola (Brazil) & Lajos Baróti (Hungary)
Brazil (4–2–4): Gylmar (Santos); Djalma Santos (Palmeiras), Hilderaldo Bellini (Cpt, São Paulo), Paulo Henrique de Oliveira (Flamengo), Altair Gomes de Figueiredo (Fluminense); Antônio Lima (Santos), Gérson de Oliveira; Manuel dos Santos, known as Garrincha (Botafogo), Alcindo de Freitas (Grêmio), Eduardo Gonçalvez, known as Tostäo (Cruzeiro), Jair Ventura, known as Jairzinho (Botafogo)
Hungary (1–4–2–3): József Gelei (Tatabánya Bányász); Sandor Matrai (Ferencváros); Benõ Káposzta (Ujpest Dózsa), Kálmán Mészöly (Vasas), Ferenc Sipos (Cpt, Honved), Gusztáv Szepesi (Tatabánya Bányász); Imre Mathesz (Vasas), Gyula Rákosi (Ferencváros); Ferenc Bene (Ujpest Dózsa), Flórián Albert (Ferencvàros), János Farkas (Vasas)
The Brazilians were as badly prepared for this tournament as they were well prepared for the previous two. In Sweden and Chile they had undergone intensive training camps and altitude work, preparing a well-knit, comfortable squad. This time they thought, “Hey, we’re Brazil, let’s just bring all the good old boys back and we’ll breeze this – we have Pelé after all!” Well they didn’t have Pelé for this game, the Bulgarians saw to that, and they hadn’t brought Amarildo either. And the good old boys meant the back five had an average age of thirty-two, including a twenty-three-year-old (who wasn’t old, just not very good). They brought in the talented midfield playmaker Gérson for the more defensive Denilson and gave Pelé’s place to Alcindo – the leading scorer of all time for his club Grêmio, but a bit-part player at this level.
Hungary were distressed at losing to Portugal and knew this was their last chance to seal a place in the next round. Hardly surprisingly, they brought in a new goalkeeper – I know I’ve been harsh on Szentmihályi, especially as he was carrying a knock in the first game, but it was as calamitous a goalkeeping performance as the Finals have seen. His replacement, Gelei, came from the unfashionable suburban Tatabánya club, as did Szepesi, drafted in to replace Sóvári. Hungary’s formation was novel, with Matrai, now thirty-three and short of pace, lying really deep and allowing the full-backs to operate as wing-backs, a term that is often assumed to be a more modern one but which is heard clearly on the TV commentary. A midfield two was augmented both by these overlapping wide players and the deep-lying centre-forward and playmaker Flórián Albert, in a variant on the role perfected by his predecessor Hidegkuti. Ahead of them were two strikers who attacked from wide positions, leaving the opposition centre-backs no one to mark. Against Brazil this was deadly, as the attacking players received the ball with space to run at the oldsters – Bellini and co just couldn’t deal with it.
The proof came in the third minute. Matrai broke up a Brazilian attack, Sipos brought the ball out and fed Bene, running through the inside-right channel. The winger turned Altair inside, then went back outside and left him on the floor; Bellini tried to cover but Bene just cut inside him and fired low past Gylmar with his left foot. An exhilarating counter-attack that set the tone for what was to come.
No Brazil side is without talent and they came back. Lima enjoyed trying his luck from distance and he stung the goalkeeper’s fingers in the first minute with a forty-yarder. After fifteen minutes he had another go and blasted a free-kick into a wall and the ball fell at the feet of Tostão who hit an instant shot high past Gelei. This was it, surely Brazil would show their true colours and dictate the game. Er, no. Gérson’s radar was off, Lima was more brawn than brains, and, with no Pelé to drop deep and help, no one was making things happen.
The Hungarians were fantastic, their passing and movement precise and varied. The Goodison Park crowd, which started the game very much behind Brazil, was roaring its appreciation of the second generation of Magical Magyars – far from wan or unworthy. (I have read a suggestion that the Everton fans in the crowd reacted to the Liverpool supporters cheering for Brazil by rooting for the opposition – it makes sense in the nonsensical world of football tribalism.) One move saw the front players move the ball between them without touching the ground before Bene sent in a header that lacked the power to trouble Gylmar. Another saw Farkas force a tougher save from the Brazilian goalkeeper with a fierce low drive after Albert played him in. Brazil were reduced to occasional raids, like when Sipos did brilliantly to hook the ball off the line after Gelei aped his predecessor trying to collect a cross from Alcindo after a quick throw from Jairzinho let him in. Jairzinho was Brazil’s principal threat and he began to wander infield looking for the ball when he realised Szepesi had Garrincha comfortably under control on the opposite side.
Brazil started the second half better, with Jairzinho playing through the middle and causing problems, once giving Sipos and Matrai a yard start and outsprinting them only to shoot into the side netting. Hungary reverted to a back four and pushed Mészöly further forward to use his height, yet it was Bene on the right who posed the bigger problems for Brazil. Every time Albert received the ball he looked for the ball inside Paulo Henrique for Bene. First the winger crossed for Farkas to volley hastily when he had time to bring the ball down – Rákosi told him so in no uncertain terms. Next Bene beat his man and fired in a drive when a cross was the better option. Hungary kept coming and it was third time luc
ky when Albert put Bene away again with a sublime first-time pass. The winger looked up this time and hit a flat cross at Farkas. No complaints from his colleagues on this occasion as Farkas took the ball first time and smashed it past Gylmar, a goal fit for any game and hugely appropriate as the decisive moment in this one.
Brazil were truly on the rack now and Hungary didn’t make the mistake of sitting back. Szepesi dispossessed Garrincha and strode away with the ball. Albert ran up to him and demanded it, turned, sprinted between two retreating Brazilians and fed Bene. The winger beat Altair (twice) and was brought down when Henrique realised he couldn’t stop him either. Kálmán Mészöly (%&^!!@&&) banged away the penalty. Hungary weren’t done. Bene, struggling with cramp, headed over after Rákosi teased the defence, and Albert sprinted past four weary defenders to set up Farkas for a fourth only for the referee to chalk it off – a risible decision that marred an otherwise good performance by the Englishman. Brazil had one last chance, when Alcindo met Jairzinho’s free-kick on the half-volley, but Gelei earned his corn with a fantastic reflex save.
Very rarely have a Brazilian team looked so ragged in a World Cup match. Hungary were more skilful, more tactically astute and more determined – Mészöly finished the match with his arm in a sling rather than leave the field. In Albert they had a player capable of lifting his game to the very highest level, and he surpassed even that here, producing one of the very best individual performances in World Cup history.
Brazil were in trouble but both teams could still feasibly go through. It was the reigning champions’ first defeat since the infamous Battle of Berne in 1954, when they fell to the same opponents.
By the end of the following day Brazil knew they would probably need a handsome win over Portugal in their last match, as the Portuguese blew away Bulgaria with a minimum of fuss. Bulgaria, like Switzerland, looked out of their depth. Eusébio scored Portugal’s second goal to open his account for the tournament, while the tall but not unskilful Torres looked the perfect foil for the African-born star’s quick feet and powerful shooting.
Brazil made nine changes for the game – an absurd overreaction to a defeat at the hands of an inspired team. One of the more justifiable was the return of Pelé, even if only half-fit. Less justifiable was the Portuguese decision to kick him out of the match.
Portugal were already in the lead. Eusébio, coming in off the left, had tested Manga three times already; his testing cross was punched away by the goalkeeper but straight onto the head of Simões, who looked mightily surprised to score. The second goal was as basic as they come; Coluna pumped a long free-kick at Torres and the giant headed it across goal for Eusébio to finish off past a flat-footed Manga. Way too easy.
Already in deep trouble, Brazil’s day got much worse when Pelé was hacked mercilessly by Morais on the edge of the Portuguese area. Made of stern stuff, Pelé rode the tackle only to be chopped down even harder by the same player. Referee George McCabe deemed a wag of the finger sufficient for a tackle that would have the player in a police interview room in later years. Disgraceful from the Portuguese defender – pathetic from the English referee. Pelé spent the rest of the game limping forlornly on the left wing.
Rildo gave Brazil hope with a drilled shot but it was short-lived. Manga saved well from a Eusébio piledriver, but, when the resultant corner came back to the striker in a near-identical position, he simply hit the second shot even harder. Had Manga been able to get in the way he would probably just have ended up in the back of the net with the ball.
Hungary joined Portugal in the next round with a routine win over Bulgaria. They looked tired after their efforts against Brazil, and conceded early when Asparuhov ran on to a through ball; Gelei came out suicidally far and left the Bulgarian an age to find the net past a retreating defender. Five years later Asparuhov and his colleague Nikola Kotkov (who made his first appearance in the tournament in this match) were killed when their car spun out of control. The striker was a legend at Levski Sofia, where he earned cult status for turning down a lucrative move to Milan, and was still a regular in the Bulgarian side when the accident cut him off. Hungary needed a bit of help with the equaliser; Rákosi crossed while on the ground after a tackle, Davidov, the covering defender, hit his clearance at Vutsov, his colleague, and the ball ricocheted back onto Davidov and into the net. Laughably bad. That was three minutes before half-time and Hungary were ahead before the break, Mészöly chesting down Bene’s corner and blasting into the goal – poor marking again, though. Bene added a third with a good glancing header from Rákosi’s corner, and that was that. The holders were out.
GROUP 4
The final group looked a doddle for Italy and the USSR, with Chile, the weakest of the South American sides, and North Korea, the joke team, for company. England didn’t really get the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea – they called them plain old North Korea, for a start, although it is true to say there is nothing democratic about that country’s government.
When they qualified, the Suits in Whitehall went into hugger-mugger with the Suits at the FA. The Whitehall Suits didn’t want the Koreans in England at all – they were dirty, filthy Communists – but the FA Suits were concerned they would be censured by the FIFA Suits. A compromise was reached: no one used the North Korean flag or played the North Korean anthem, and the team were banished to the north-east, where they were, of course, immediately adopted by the locals as their favourites – the Suits forgot to tell the commoners the North Koreans were BAD PEOPLE.
“That must be the strangest team sheet ever to appear on television,” mused commentator Hugh Johns at the start of the opening game in the group between the Koreans and the USSR. Why, Hugh? Do they not have TV in the Far East, or do they think “Why don’t we call our kids Bobby or Geoff or Flórián or Franz instead of Yung and Seung and Lee?” I know it was a long time ago, but our attitude to overseas cultures was appalling – with no one more culpable than the xenophobic England manager.
The Soviets steamed through North Korea – they were twice their size – and should have added to the three they did score. The nineteen-year-old goalkeeper Lee Chan-myung did well, and the Koreans never stopped running – they had been in a fitness camp for two years, supposedly, determined not to suffer the ignominy of South Korea in 1954. Malofeyev, later a celebrated coach in Russia, scored twice and the poodle-haired striker Banishevsky headed in a free-kick. Malofeyev’s second, late goal was tasty, taking a chip from Sabo in his stride and half-volleying past Lee as the ball dropped.
The assumed order was still in place after two more games; first Italy beat Chile with some ease – Chile were surprisingly supine, a far cry from the blood and gore of the 1962 horror show between the two. Two days later at Ayresome Park, with the crowd behind their every move, North Korea forced a draw with Chile after conceding a first-half penalty. Chile tried to brutalise their slender opponents, but the Koreans kept coming, and got their deserts two minutes from time when a header dropped to Park Seung-jin (excellent throughout the tournament), who returned it with interest into the corner. Great stuff, with more to come.
The USSR beat Italy the following day, and were well worth their win in a cagey game between two sides who assumed they would qualify. The chunky winger Igor Chislenko scored the goal that settled it after fifty-seven minutes, cutting inside the great Italian wing-back Facchetti and firing home into the far corner – the fearsome shooting was a feature of this World Cup. Lev Yashin, who had never lived up to his reputation in a Finals tournament, had a fine game, saving twice in the closing minutes.
The USSR put out a few reserves in their last game and still beat Chile. The reserve striker, Valeriy Porkujan, had enjoyed a good season with Odessa and just signed for Dynamo Kyiv. He took his chance here on his debut and scored both goals, cementing his place for the knockout rounds. The USSR duly won the group and went through with North Korea. No, no, of course, I mean Italy . . . don’t I? No, actually, I don’t, because the previous day had
seen the biggest shock thus far in any World Cup Finals match.
WORLD CUP SHOCKS No.2
19 July 1966, Ayresome Park, Middlesbrough; 17,829
Referee: Pierre Schwinte (France)
Coaches: Edmondo Fabbri (Italy) & Mung Rye-hyun (North Korea)
Italy (4–3–3): Enrico Albertosi (Fiorentina); Spartaco Landini (Inter Milan), Aristide Guarneri (Inter), Francesco Janich (Bologna), Giacinto Facchetti (Inter); Romano Fogli (Bologna), Giacomo Bulgarelli (Cpt, Bologna), Gianni Rivera (AC Milan); Marino Perani (Bologna), Sandro Mazzola (Inter), Paolo Barison (Roma)
North Korea (4–4–2): Lee Chan-myung; Ha Jung-won, Oh Yoon-kyung, Shin Yung-kyoo, Lim Zoong-sun; Im Seung-hwi, Han Bong-jin, Park Seung-jin (Cpt), Kim Bong-hwan; Park Doo-ik, Yang Sung-kook
A victory for hard work over complacency. The Italians made unnecessary changes and played badly. The Koreans worked their socks off, fought for every ball and used their extra man intelligently after Bulgarelli went off injured – a victim of his own reckless tackle.
Italy had their chances; Perani in particular could have had a hat-trick in the first half. The Italian No.17 saw his volley saved brilliantly by Lee, poked the ball past the post when Barison’s cross found him six yards out and then missed a one-on-one with the ’keeper.
A free-kick was tossed around the box for a moment or two then cleared, but a Korean defender sent a powerful header back towards the Italian area. A defender misread the bounce and the ball broke for Park Doo-ik, who drove it unerringly past Albertosi.
Italy tried to get back into the game in the second half, and the recalled Rivera nearly found a way through with a blockbuster, but Lee was equal to it – and brave moments later when Rivera nearly latched onto a deflection. There were chances at the other end, too – Korea broke at pace and very directly and could have scored two or three more with more judicious use of the final ball. Italy’s night was summed up when a cross from the right found Barison and Perani unmarked on the far post; they got in each other’s way and the last chance went begging.