by Nick Holt
The first came early; Cruyff whipped in a left-footed cross from the right and the first head to it was Rep’s, topped with a ridiculous and enormous mullet. Suurbier missed a great chance (what was he doing in the centre-forward position?), Jansen hit the post and Rensenbrink blazed over with a free hit from ten yards. How the game remained only 1–0 until the eighty-sixth minute I have no idea, it was just very Dutch. “Chill out, man, don’t panic, if we need another, we’ll get another . . .” Actually they didn’t need another because the opposition were so bad, but it came anyway, from Rep again, a neat finish to round off a passing move between van Hanegem and Rensenbrink. Uruguay offered only thuggery in response; Montero Castillo was dismissed for a challenge so late the TV cameras missed it by a full second and Forlán (yes, it was Diego’s dad) should have followed, he nearly decapitated Neeskens and had already been booked.
Holland took their foot off the gas for their second game – or maybe Sweden were just better than Uruguay. They certainly had a vastly experienced defence and Holland made few chances, but after two 0–0 draws Sweden would require a bit more from their attackers against Uruguay. It helped that Bulgaria and Uruguay drew 1–1 (imagine what a crowd-pleaser that was) – it meant any win would guarantee them a place in the second phase, and a draw would probably be enough as Bulgaria beating Holland was unlikely. The highlight of the Holland v Sweden game was a turn by Cruyff, flicking the ball between his own legs and spinning ninety degrees that had the pundits in raptures. It is an oft-shown bit of skill that came to embody the notion of Total Football.
Holland were superb against Bulgaria, creating a host of chances against a rugged defence. The only surprise was that Bulgaria scored, when Krol turned a cross into his own goal with the game all but won. Kolev started the rot by hacking down Cruyff as he threatened to cut in along the goal-line from the left. At the end of the half Vasilev hauled Jansen down as he sprinted on to a through ball. Neeskens put both penalties to the goalkeeper’s right with unstoppable power; all three actually, the ref was having a look at me day and made him retake the first one. How like a Dutch player to put it in exactly the same place. Neeskens hit the post in between with another crashing drive. His big bushy sideburns made him look like Wolverine – he had claws, too, our Johan.
In the second half Vasilev completed his bad day by heading a free-kick straight to Rep, who volleyed it viciously past Staykov. Krol’s aberration came soon after – in fairness Bonev was a foot behind him and would surely have scored had the defender not attempted a clearance – but de Jong, on for Neeskens, restored the three-goal lead with a diving header from another pinpoint Cruyff cross.
The table is misleading, Holland completely dominated this group, and Cruyff was massively impressive, even if he hadn’t scored. West Germany were no longer such clear favourites. Sweden joined them in the second phase with an unexpectedly comfortable win over Uruguay. The first half was dull, the second a stroll as the young Eindhoven striker Ralf Edström put Sweden in front immediately after the break. Sandberg added a second after a clever dummy by Ahlström put him clear and Edström scored a second when Sweden broke up an attack and found themselves a man over.
GROUP 4
The last group was expected to be a stand-off between the ageing, wily Italians and the new Argentina side under their former defender Vladislao Cap. Not much was really expected of Poland without their star striker Lubanski, despite their display against England, and Haiti were a weak side and playing, like Zaire, under severe pressure applied by an obnoxious regime.
It would make a great quiz question: who broke Dino Zoff’s world record time in internationals without conceding a goal of nineteen hours and three minutes? Answer: Emmanuel Sanon, whose goals against Italy and Argentina earned him a spell with Belgian side Beerschot. Here he outpaced the Italian defence (as my mum would probably have done) and rounded the mighty Dino to penetrate the impenetrable at the start of the second half. It woke Italy up and they won easily enough, but it showed their faults for others to see.
In the second game Argentina got off to a rotten start. Mario Kempes, the new teenage sensation, missed a glorious one-on-one and a minute later his side were behind. Carnevali dropped a routine corner and Lato volleyed in the loose ball. Basic stuff; it took Cap five matches to work out Carnevali was rubbish, and he had Ubaldo Fillol on the bench, one of the best goalkeepers Argentina have had. A minute later Argentina gave the ball away in a bad zone and Lato played in the centre-forward Szarmach, Lubanski’s replacement, who scored with great confidence. The Górnik Zabrze striker was a complete unknown before the tournament; he was a star at the end of it. Argentina were in disarray and were almost overwhelmed. Deyna forced a sprawling save from Carnevali and Lato hit the post with a delicious curled free-kick while Szarmach had a shot cleared off the line and hit the post when he should have scored after another terrible defensive mix-up. It was a surprise when Argentina got a goal back, an excellent dipping strike from Heredia, but Poland scored again two minutes later. A free-kick was pushed to the massive centre-half Gorgon but his powerful strike was straight at Carnevali. The goalkeeper tried to launch a quick counter but succeeded only in freeing Lato to bear down on him and score inside the post. Four more minutes and a fine run and cross from Ayala and header back across goal from Kempes found Babington unmarked; Argentina had four efforts at goal from less than six yards before Babington finally scrambled the ball home. It was still Poland who had the better chances after that and they thoroughly deserved the win. The applecart was lying on its side.
Argentina and Italy cancelled each other out in Stuttgart. Houseman scored a sensational volley after twenty minutes from Babington’s lovely long ball but Italy dug in and a suspect defence never looked secure. The own goal that brought Italy level was unlucky – Perfumo didn’t expect Benetti’s control to let him down and his thrust of the leg seemed almost involuntary – it was enough to turn the ball in. Argentina looked enthusiastic but dodgy, Italy looked reliable but unenthusiastic. Their great new hope, the striker Giorgio Chinaglia, raised in Wales and very British in style, big and powerful and direct, had a stinker, was taken off after sixty minutes and threw an epic tantrum, remonstrating with the bench and throwing stuff around in the changing rooms. The press had a ball.
Poland were both enthusiastic and exciting, and they ripped into Haiti. Lato end-stopped the scoring and in between there was a leisurely hat-trick for Szarmach, a goal for the excellent skipper Deyna and a free-kick from the man-mountain Gorgon that was greeted with hilarity by his team-mates, which seems a bit mean. He did give it a right old smack. Carnage.
Argentina needed to beat Haiti with some comfort and hope Poland did them a favour. The first part was easy, even without finishing as sharp as the Poles, and despite another good performance from Francillon, the Haiti goalkeeper who was their best player throughout.
Poland were in no mood to allow Italy easy passage and left them with a mountain to climb after taking a 2–0 half-time lead. Szarmach buried a fantastic header from Kasperczak’s cross, despite the close attentions of his marker, and a few minutes later Kasperczak made as if to cross again, played the ball square to Deyna instead and watched his captain plant a fierce shot just inside Zoff’s left-hand post. Poland’s finishing was first rate. Chinaglia, back in the side, was lightweight again and substituted less visibly at half-time. Italy tried manfully to get back level but they were always vulnerable on the break and Capello’s goal (yes, that one) came too late to make any difference.
Italy purged their team after the tournament; former greats like Riva, Rivera and Mazzola were history, and the next tournament saw the first flowering of one of their very best sides.
GROUP A
The two surviving South American sides faced East Germany and Holland. Brazil beat East Germany when Rivelino found the corner with a trademark vicious free-kick. Brazil still didn’t convince; the team was full of very un-Brazilian athletic types with none of the subtle movement
and finesse that characterised the earlier sides. Given what was at his disposal, Zagallo cut his cloth accordingly. The result was desperately disappointing.
Even with such threadbare resources, Brazil saw off Argentina. It was a poor game between two football nations of pedigree, but another swerving drive from Rivelino gave Brazil the lead, and a header from Jairzinho won it after Mario Brindisi, the golden boy of Argentina, equalised with a neat free-kick. Argentina were neat and pretty but had no thrust up front – Kempes and Ayala were too similar, technically gifted but neither a true centre-forward. And Brian Clough should have reserved his barbs for their goalkeeper. Carnevali flapped at crosses, rushed out of his goal too early whenever an attacker broke free and generally sent the heebie-jeebies throughout his defence. Five games too late they picked Fillol and drew their last game with East Germany – they should have won – when Kempes finally contributed something and beat two men before flighting an inviting cross for Houseman to finish. The failure of the team to fulfil their potential led to a managerial change; César Luis Menotti was the new broom and by the next World Cup all but Houseman, Kempes and Fillol were swept away.
Holland eased through. They crushed Argentina in a game played in pouring rain on a soaking pitch, their speed and precision and power leaving Argentina bemused and forlorn. Cruyff was imperious, scoring twice and crossing for Johnny Rep to head home; the attacking left-back Krol scored with a deflected rocket. In the next game they cruised past East Germany in third gear, retaining possession rather than looking for the killer blow. It was a trait that would cost them dearly. Neeskens hammered home another trademark rocket and Rob Rensenbrink, the left-winger who played for Anderlecht in Belgium, opened his account for the competition.
The decider against Brazil was a rough affair that had Mário Zagallo crying foul about the Dutch tackling. Amidst all the fluff about Total Football, it is easy to forget that this Dutch team were a hard bunch. Even without the powerful centre-half Hulshoff, who missed the tournament through injury, there were some fierce tacklers. The left-back Ruud Krol was a forefather of Stuart Pearce; no wonder he was such an attacking force as the attacker was usually left breathless on the ground after colliding with those thighs. He was also a sumptuous passer of the ball. Jansen and Haan were uncompromising in defence, van Hanegem could tackle and Neeskens was just plain nasty, leaving a sly foot in and going for the ankles. Even the great artist Johan Cruyff was no stranger to the physical side of the game; watch him shield the ball and he’s all elbows and knees, an impenetrable barrier. If the defender collided with one of those protruding limbs, so be it.
The coach of the Holland team was Rinus Michels, the genius who built up Ajax of Amsterdam into Europe’s top team. Michels left Ajax to manage Barcelona (and took Cruyff with him two years later), but now he was back to make sure Holland maximised their opportunity after their let-off against Belgium. Like Ajax, the Dutch were as much about keeping things tight as they were about scoring goals – look at the record of both sides and it is littered with 1–0s and goalless draws – including two 0–0s against Belgium which helped the Dutch squeeze into the finals. Their system has been described – by Brian Glanville amongst others – as Total Football, with complete fluidity and interchanging of positions. This is an exaggeration. The full-backs were fullbacks. They were assured in possession and attacked – that was nothing new to world football – but their main job was to defend, and they knew how to do that, too, unlike some of the over-rated walkabout Brazilian full-backs we’ve seen over the years. Yes, occasionally Suurbier or Krol would pop up in the opposition penalty area, but then so did Facchetti, full-back with the utterly defensive Inter and Italy teams. Hulshoff’s young replacement, Wim Rijsbergen, stayed in the middle (he was actually a full-back for his club) where he was abetted by Arie Haan and Wim Jansen; nominally half-backs, these two would share the duties of the extra centre-back, with Haan playing as a sweeper in front of the defence and Jansen as a more conventional defensive midfield player.
Johan Neeskens and Wim van Hanegem were in midfield and their job was to retain possession and make sure Cruyff and company got the supply they needed. Van Hanegem was a stroller, a bit one-paced and bandy-legged but with a great range of passing and a bit of aggression; he would act as deep-lying feeder (similar in position and style to Gérson of Brazil) while Neeskens, a brisker, sharper player would advance and look to add his ferocious shooting to the attacking mix (van Hanegem scored six times in fifty-two games, Neeskens seventeen in forty-nine games).
Much is made of the fluidity of the forwards Rensenbrink, Rep and Cruyff. Again, there was less unusual than we have been led to believe. Cruyff was the principal goalscorer but he was no one’s idea of a traditional centre-forward. He was ungovernable, both as player and individual, so coaches left him to it, and he would fill the opposition half with his presence, his feints and dribbles and tricks and swivels; one turn against Sweden when he flicked the ball past a defender with his heel and turned in off the touchline was replayed again and again. Rep and Rensenbrink stayed central or moved wide to accommodate Cruyff’s genius. Rensenbrink was skilful and sinuous and could beat players at will – he played in Cruyff’s mobile position for Anderlecht but suppressed his ego for the Holland team (which makes him a rarity). Rep was strong and direct and attacked the ball well in the penalty area as well as dropping deep to engage his powerful shooting – he and Rensenbrink had similar scoring records but a much greater proportion of Rep’s goals came in World Cup Finals matches.
The fluidity didn’t come from the whole team, it came from Cruyff, just as it had at Ajax; he moved everywhere, demanding the ball, and, if he filled a colleague’s space, they moved in or out accordingly, hence the belief of interchangeability. It wasn’t a ploy, it was fluidity born partly and paradoxically of intractability, the refusal of stubborn players to adhere to a tactical plan. It was Holland. David Winner’s fabulous 2000 book Brilliant Orange spends over 250 pages trying to explain and eventually concludes (I paraphrase and over-simplify) Why do I bother, they’re Dutch, so what chance do I have in a paragraph?
Another myth: that the Dutch were just Ajax in orange shirts – the Amsterdam team had won three European Cups since the last World Cup. Six of the squad were from Ajax (make it seven, as Cruyff had been an integral part of the European Cup-winning squad before moving to Barcelona), seven were from their principal rivals Feyenoord. The team that played in the final had five from Ajax, three from Feyenoord, plus Cruyff, goalkeeper Jan Jongbloed (a late replacement) and Rensenbrink, who played for Anderlecht in Belgium.
They beat Brazil rather easily, by the way, hence Zagallo’s protestations. The Brazilians missed a couple of early chances after an unusually slow start from Holland but once the Dutch found their rhythm it was one-way traffic, punctuated only by a series of appalling tackles from both sides. It would have ended eight men apiece thirty years on – Rep stayed on the field after a blatant elbow in the face earned only a booking. Both Dutch goals were sweet moves finished with aplomb by Neeskens and Cruyff – silk and steel.
GROUP B
The West German squad was in a dark place, and Helmut Schön took to his hotel room in a fit of pique/depression. It was the moment Beckenbauer stepped up to be top dog in the establishment; a hastily convened press conference was called to make up for a no-show by Schön at the previous one, and it was the captain, not the manager, who did most of the talking. Calm, unhurried, articulate, Beckenbauer made remarks about the side’s level of performance that implied changes to the side; who can say whether Schön had already bought into this or whether Beckenbauer was forcing his hand?
West Germany were in an all-European group with Poland, Sweden and Yugoslavia; manageable, but they would have to up their levels. Of course they did, they’re German, and they had five world-class players and a number of other very good ones. They were much improved against Yugoslavia, with Hoeness back in the starting line-up and Bonhof of Borussia Mönchengladbach
adding some zest. Breitner thumped the opener from way out, and Müller added a late second to seal it, but the back four never gave Yugoslavia’s talented but easily disheartened forwards a look-in. It was essentially the Bayern Munich defence that won the European Cup a few weeks earlier, only with Gladbach’s Berti Vogts at right-back – maybe if Bayern’s Johnny Hansen had been German instead of Danish, Schön would have picked him as well. I jest – Vogts was Mr Dependable and a key member of the team.
Poland were looking likely too. They beat Sweden in a tight encounter with few chances. Gadocha switched wings and hit a deep cross from the right, Szarmach headed back across goal and Lato nodded the ball in from two yards out. In the second half England’s nemesis Tomaszewski kept Poland in front, making three excellent saves, including Tapper’s penalty, hit hard but at a nice height.
Poland squeezed past Yugoslavia four days after, in Frankfurt. They were gifted a goal in a niggly game when Karasi needlessly kicked out at Szarmach as the players were clearing the area; today a referee would probably have carried on with play rather than award a penalty, then returned and sent off Karasi as the incident was well after the ball had moved on. Karasi survived and provided the equaliser just before half-time with a smart finish to round off an excellent, patient passing move. As usual Yugoslavia produced too little of the football they were capable of and they conceded a winner to Lato’s header from another excellent corner from Gadocha. The Polish forwards weren’t tall (Szarmach was five foot ten and Lato five foot nine) but they attacked the ball well in the air and Gadocha hit flat skimming corners that negated the extra height of the central defenders.