by Nick Holt
The rather lumpen German performance against Morocco prompted Schön to drop the experienced Held and Haller, and pick Löhr of Cologne alongside Müller. He also introduced the winger Reinhard Libuda of Schalke, a renowned speed merchant. The latter change was crucial; in the next match Libuda ran Bulgaria ragged as West Germany again recovered from conceding an early goal to win 5–2, with a hat-trick from Müller. Bulgaria wilted again in the second half – they, like Belgium, did not acclimatise well. Peru, too, were Müllered, two tap-ins and a header sealing a first-half hat-trick for the predatory striker. West Germany won the group, avoided Brazil and got instead . . . England, the old enemy, the nemesis.
QUARTER-FINALS (all 14 June)
* Yeah, right; lucky if there was half that number.
The main stadium in Mexico City had the misfortune to host Uruguay against the USSR, which didn’t have the feel of a classic and wasn’t. Nearly two hours of repetitive fouling and nine men behind the ball mercifully ended by Espárrago’s late, disputed goal. Evidence proved the referee was right and the Soviets paid for their caution. It was hoped Uruguay wouldn’t be able to repeat the success of their defensive tactics in the next round against Brazil; they kicked Muntian and Byshovets out of the game – not that the USSR were above putting in the odd hair-raising tackle. Uruguay were a tough side, but they never got out of control as they had in 1966 and their defence was mightily impressive, marshalled by their unheralded captain Luis Ubiña and shielded by the tenacious marker Montero, father of Paolo Montero, a quality international centre-half of the next generation.
Brazil 4 Peru 2 sounds like it might have been a ripper, and in fairness to Peru they were good enough going forward to test Brazil at the back. But their own defending was execrable and they could have conceded ten. Pelé had already hit the post when Rivelino opened the scoring from Tostão’s lay-off – Tostão was gifted the ball by a nonsensical attempt to chest the ball down by Peruvian right-back Campos. Rivelino made a tricky finish look simple with a ground shot of pinpoint accuracy. The second goal was a disaster for Peru – you just didn’t give this Brazilian team a two-goal start. A short corner routine between Tostão and Rivelino left the centre-forward free on the left-hand side; seeing the full-back leave the post to come and tackle him, and the goalkeeper in a nothing position, Tostão simply whacked the ball between the defenders and the post – schoolboy stuff.
The Brazilians were playing at walking place, conserving energy – Pelé had barely broken sweat in the tournament except against England. Maybe they got complacent, because Peru’s first goal came out of the blue. A long ball from Chumpitaz found Gallardo charging down the left. Carlos Alberto put in a feeble challenge that the winger rode, and Felix made a complete hash of the shot from an impossible angle, all but throwing it over his shoulder into the goal. Risible defending. There was time before the break for more comedy goalkeeping from Rubiños in the Peru goal; he flapped like a seal at a tame shot from Pelé, watched it bounce out of his hands onto the post and then nearly carried it over the line as he dived, panic-stricken, on the rebound. He did better with a low save from Rivelino, and recovered in time to grab the rebound as a defender almost kneed it over the line.
At the start of the second half Brazilian forwards (and the odd defender) were queuing up to get on the scoresheet. Pelé was allowed to wander between two defenders to take a pass from Jairzinho and cross – the ball was going nowhere until a retreating defender deflected it to Tostão, who had an open goal. He nearly missed.
Cubillas pulled one back again with a thumping volley after the ball rebounded to him as Sotil was tackled, but Brazil looked like they could score if they needed to, and they did, six minutes later, when Jairzinho latched on to Rivelino’s pitching wedge through ball and rounded the ’keeper. Brazil’s possession and tricks and skill levels were outstanding, but really, Peru’s defending would have shamed a pub team. They had the consolation of winning the fair play award for not receiving any cautions or red cards.
There was optimism in Mexico that their team could reach the semi-final, particularly as Italy had been uninspired thus far. The hosts played their quarter-final at the extreme altitude of Toluca, but it didn’t help them. Denied the 100,000+ support that a game in Mexico City would have given them, they surrendered tamely to Italy, despite taking the lead with a well-worked early goal. Italy were level after twenty-five minutes when Domenghini’s show was deflected past Calderon, who was slow to react to the change of direction, and slow again in the second half when a precise but underhit shot from Gigi Riva went across him into the corner. Italy were much improved in the second half when Gianni Rivera replaced Sandro Mazzola – the substitution was billed as a compromise by coach Valcareggi to pacify advocates of both players. Surely a coach wouldn’t position his best players on such a flimsy basis? In this game it just seemed logical to have the more attacking player on the field – it paid off as Rivera and Riva pulled the Mexican defence all over the place. Rivera finished off a period of sustained pressure with a well-placed shot, and Riva banged the final nail in the fourth corner when he was given two bites after being put clear, and tucked away the second opportunity. Easy, and much more impressive from the reigning European Champions. The remaining quarter-final was far from easy, especially if you were an England fan.
WORLD CUP CLASSIC No.7
14 June 1970, Guanajuato, Léon; 23,357
Referee: Angel Norberto Coerezza (Argentina)
Coaches: Helmut Schön (West Germany) & Alf Ramsey (England)
West Germany (4–3–3): Sepp Maier (Bayern Munich); Berti Vogts (Borussia Mönchengladbach), Klaus Fichtel (Schalke 04), Karl-Heinz Schnellinger (AC Milan), Horst Höttges (Werder Bremen); Franz Beckenbauer (Bayern Munich); Uwe Seeler (Cpt, Hamburg), Wolfgang Overath (Cologne); Reinhard Libuda (Schalke 04), Gerd Müller (Bayern Munich), Hannes Löhr (Cologne). Subs: Willi Schulz (Hamburg) for Hottges, 45m; Jürgen Grabowski (Eintracht Frankfurt) for Libuda, 57m
England (4–3–1–2): Peter Bonetti (Chelsea); Keith Newton (Everton), Brian Labone (Everton), Bobby Moore (Cpt, West Ham United), Terry Cooper (Leeds United); Alan Ball (Everton), Alan Mullery (Tottenham Hotspur), Martin Peters (Tottenham); Bobby Charlton (Manchester United); Francis Lee (Manchester City), Geoff Hurst (West Ham). Subs: Colin Bell (Man City) for Charlton, 70m; Norman Hunter (Leeds) for Peters, 81m
Cautioned: Lee (Eng) 10m; Müller (WGer) 18m
“Back home, they’ll be watching and waiting and cheering every move.” So went the England team’s pre-tournament sing-a-long, a monster No.1 chart hit.
They were certainly cheering the first part of this match; for an hour West Germany probably wished they had drawn Brazil. England were outstanding, the Germans muted. In midfield Ball and Mullery dominated in the centre, making Seeler look his age for the first time, meantime Francis Lee was dragging German defenders all over the pitch while they frantically looked around to see where the dreaded Hurst was lurking.
The first goal was a cracker, Mullery, Lee and Newton interchanging beautifully before Mullery finished the move at the near post – his only England goal. The second was a typical Martin Peters effort, finding space at the far post to force home another right-wing cross from Newton.
Franz Beckenbauer had a muted first hour. He had painful memories of the 1966 Final to contend with, when his shadowing of Bobby Charlton neutered his attacking instincts. Here the roles were reversed, as Ramsey instructed Charlton to cleverly return the favour – it had unnerved Beckenbauer and the two cancelled each other out again.
Ramsey’s critics point to his poor substitutions, but West Germany scored while Charlton was still on the field. The introduction of Grabowski for Libuda had an instant effect. The winger, not as quick as Libuda but a clever dribbler who liked to show his opponent the ball, was the sort of player Cooper hated, and the England full-back, who had covered a lot of ground, was forced to sit back and watch his man. England dropped deeper and the penalty area was crowded when Beck
enbauer, free for once, tried a shot. There was no alarm as Francis Lee got in a good block, and Beckenbauer’s strike at the rebound with his weaker foot was far from clean. Bonetti was partly unsighted by the extra defenders; he went down late and the ball crept under him.
England responded by replacing Charlton with Bell – a preplanned substitution that made perfect sense; preserve the older man’s legs for a tough game three days later. And Colin Bell was ideal for these circumstances, a fit, strong ball-carrier. Soon after West Germany scored he produced a lung-bursting run and cross for Hurst to narrowly miss with a diving header.
The substitution of Peters with Norman Hunter after eighty minutes made no sense at all; Peters wasn’t near his best, but it left England with precious little fire-power should extra-time beckon. Hunter, nicknamed “Bites-Yer-Legs”, was a footsoldier, offering defensive cover but scant creativity. Much more practical would have been Wright, a more defensively minded full-back, for the exhausted Cooper.
A minute later West Germany equalised; opinions differ on whether Seeler meant to loop a backward header over Bonetti (who was blameless whether the goal was inspired or flukey), or whether he was merely flicking the ball on for Müller and got lucky.
England looked very tired and demoralised in extra-time; Ramsey’s exhortations didn’t have the same effect as in 1966. Müller latched on to a Löhr knock-down to volley athletically past Bonetti – who wouldn’t be the first goalkeeper to be surprised by the power the striker could generate with both feet off the ground. The cross came from Grabowski, who was walking around a knackered Cooper. Even after this heartbreaking setback, England mustered what they thought was an equaliser of their own, but Hurst’s conversion of Lee’s cross was disallowed by referee Coerezza for no obvious reason. Maybe he thought it was balancing the global karma for ’66, both for West Germany and his Argentinian countrymen. Or maybe he was just a dismal referee.
The press largely got the game wrong – surprise, surprise. No, England shouldn’t have played wingers; Ramsey had a tried and trusted system that worked well for the country’s best players – no point picking a winger if none was worth his place. No, England shouldn’t have played Alex Stepney, Bonetti was a better goalkeeper. The Chelsea goalkeeper was only playing because Gordon Banks had gone down with an upset stomach. (I give only these incidental parentheses to the conspiracy theories that talk of Banks being poisoned.) He carried the can (along with Ramsey) in the media and with the fans for this defeat, but that’s an absurd over-simplification. Brian Labone was at least as culpable for the last goal, and Ramsey missed an opportunity to give Bonetti a run-out in one of the two pre-tournament friendlies in South America. Bonetti had only six caps in four years, all of them ending in England victories. And no, England shouldn’t have kept Charlton on – imagine if they had won in extra-time and the playmaker had been unfit for the semi-final. If Ramsey made a mistake it was in filling his squad with perspiration not inspiration. Mullery, Stiles, Hunter and Hughes were all hardworking players with a similar style and this left him short of attacking options on the bench other than out-and-out forwards.
The legacy of the game was huge. England were shell-shocked (Ramsey: “It was unreal, like a freak of nature.”) and would suffer a hangover from this match whenever they played Germany for the next forty years (and counting), one extraordinary night in Munich apart. It was twelve years before they appeared in a World Cup Finals tournament again, and only for a brief period in the 1990s have they shed the risk-averse tactics espoused by Ramsey and his successors.
In Germany the game was a great escape; a courageous comeback with a stroke of good fortune. Beckenbauer later acknowledged that the team had as good as given up on the game before his speculative strike, so comprehensively were they outplayed for the first hour. Little did they know they had another epic to come.
No one should be surprised that West Germany came back from the dead to win this game, they make a habit of it. Twelve times in World Cup Finals encounters the Germans have conceded a lead and still won the game – not including the semi-final against France in 1982 when they were 3–1 down in extra-time and still won the tie on penalties. Even when the cause is seemingly lost the Germans keep playing and maintain their discipline and at least a show of self-belief. The same drive and refusal to bow is what led them to three successive World Cup Finals between 1982 and 1990 with the most ordinary teams. The extraordinary 5–1 defeat by England in 2001 remains the only time in living memory that a German side has truly wilted in the face of the opposition – that it remains one of only two defeats in qualifying matches is a truer reflection of their irresistibility.
It seems unfair to pick out Germany as the “comeback kings” when Brazil have overturned a deficit on fourteen occasions, but it is a different story with Brazil. Like Germany, Brazil have a swagger and a presumption of victory, but it is coupled with an inclination to take inferior opponents lightly, which often results in concession of the first goal – like the Australian cricket team in their turn-of-the-century heyday, they were only vulnerable when they assumed they would win. Brazilian teams have (almost) always been more talented than their opponents and so able to move up a gear when required; that has not always been the case with Germany, who have had to rely on drive and willpower to combat more creative opponents.
The closest another side has come to enjoying a similar reputation to Germany for resolve and fortitude when down was Uruguay in their early days, resorting to their mythical garra to spur them on. Alas it is something England have sorely lacked in World Cup competition; only twice have they overturned a deficit, once in the 1966 Final and again in 1990 when they went 2–1 down to Cameroon in the quarter-final before Gary Lineker intervened. England have only twice been beaten after taking the lead; British, French, Italian sides seem to feed off the confidence engendered by scoring first. The Germans seem to thrive on the challenge of not doing so.
England Squad 1970:
GK: Gordon Banks (Leicester City, 32 years old, 59 caps), Peter Bonetti (Chelsea, 28, 6), Alex Stepney (Manchester United, 27, 1)
DEF: Jack Charlton (Leeds United, 35, 34), Terry Cooper (Leeds, 25, 8), Norman Hunter (Leeds, 26, 13), Brian Labone (Everton, 30, 23), Bobby Moore (West Ham United, 29, 80), Keith Newton (Blackburn Rovers, 28, 24), Tommy Wright (Everton, 25, 9)
MID & WIDE: Alan Ball (Blackpool, 25, 41), Colin Bell (Manchester City, 24, 11), Bobby Charlton (Man Utd, 32, 102), Emlyn Hughes (Liverpool, 22, 6), Alan Mullery (Tottenham Hotspur, 28, 27), Martin Peters (Tottenham, 26, 38), Nobby Stiles (Man Utd, 28, 28)
FWD: Jeff Astle (West Bromwich Albion, 28, 3), Allan Clarke (Leeds, 23, 0), Geoff Hurst (West Ham, 28, 38), Francis Lee (Man City, 26, 14), Peter Osgood (Chelsea, 23, 1)
SEMI-FINAL (17 June)
THIRD-PLACE MATCH (2 June)
Three days later in Guadalajara, where they had the good fortune to stay for their entire campaign before the final, Brazil saw off Uruguay’s resilient, if negative, challenge.
Uruguay started off well, shooting on sight, which seemed a reasonable policy against such a dire goalkeeper. Brazil looked jumpy, and Brito’s awful pass put them in trouble. Morales immediately clipped the ball out to the chunky (I think that’s the polite term) right-winger Cubilla. He had a lot to do and didn’t do it spectacularly, lobbing a tame effort across Félix. Rather than save it, which seemed the obvious thing to do as the ball arced gently past him no more than three feet away, Félix left it, and seemed aghast when it bobbled inside the far post. Brazil poured into attack but still seemed a little lacklustre – they weren’t going to have it easy against this defence, and it needed something a little special on a free-kick to beat a goalkeeper as good as Mazurkiewicz – he didn’t just stop them, he caught them if they weren’t up to scratch.
The scorer Cubilla was an interesting figure; he looked distinctly unathletic, but had a sharp burst of acceleration and was a good crosser. Cubilla won four Uruguayan titles as a youngster and made his intern
ational debut as a teenager. He had an unsuccessful spell with Barcelona and joined River Plate in Argentina – he lost his international place during this time. A return to Uruguay with Nacional brought him another four titles (including another hat-trick) and a return to the Uruguay team in time for this tournament. On his retirement he became a coach and managed a number of big South America clubs, but the best of his success came with Olimpia in Paraguay; he enjoyed three spells there and won the league during each of them.
The game was in first-half injury-time when Brazil broke through from an unlikely source. Usually Clodoaldo’s job was to shield the defence and win the ball for the more talented players around him. Here he played a short pass to Rivelino and unexpectedly sprinted into the box for a return, which duly came with perfect weight and accuracy. In one movement Clodoaldo swept the ball home as if he were Pelé – he would reserve another moment of uncharacteristic genius for the final.
The second half was all Brazil. Pelé went on one rampaging run and it was only the third defender, Ancheta, who tried to cut him down, who actually made contact; Brazil claimed a penalty but the referee correctly noted the point of contact was on the edge of the area. Midway through the half Jairzinho burst out of his own half – he’d been quiet and a wee bit selfish to that point. He fed the ball to Pelé who diverted it to Tostão who fed Jairzinho again, continuing his run. The big winger outsprinted Matosas and shot across the exposed Mazurkiewicz. Uruguay did absolutely nothing wrong, it was just fantastic, instinctive football.
Shortly after another piece of flapping from Félix gave Uruguay hope, Pelé sprinted down the left, held the ball and rolled it back for Rivelino to unleash another piledriver; this time Mazurkiewicz got no more than a hand to it and the ball thumped into the corner. Game over. Rivelino knew it, he sprinted fully forty yards back to the Brazilian bench in the heat, fists pumping, seventies porn-star moustache bristling.