by Nick Holt
Nutrition and hydration techniques have improved hugely in the last thirty years – in 1986 it was still pretty basic. Here you go, son, have a salt tablet and a drink of water. The strong running European sides wilted visibly in the heat – except for the bloody Germans, of course, they never wilt.
WORLD CUP CLASSIC No.14
15 June 1986, Campo Nuevo, León; 32,277
Referee: Erik Fredriksson (Sweden)
Coaches: Guy Thys (Belgium) & Valeri Lobaonvsky (USSR)
Belgium (4–4–2): Jean-Marie Pfaff (Bayern Munich); Eric Gerets (PSV Eindhoven), Michel Renquin (Standard Liège), Stéphane Demol (Anderlecht), Georges Grün (Anderlecht); Enzo Scifo (Anderlecht), Jan Ceulemans (Cpt, Bruges), Patrick Vervoort (Beerschot), Francky Vercauteren (Anderlecht); Nico Claesen (Standard Liège), Daniel Veyt (Waregem). Subs: Lei Clijsters* (Waterschei) 99m for Grun; Leo van der Elst (Bruges) 112m for Gerets
USSR (4–5–1): (all Dynamo Kyiv unless stated): Rinat Dasaev (Spartak Moscow); Vladimir Bessonov, Oleg Kuznetsov, Anatoly Demyanenko (Cpt), Andrei Bal; Pavel Yakovenko, Zavarov, Aleinikov (Dinamo Minsk), Yaremchuk, Rats; Belanov†. Subs: Sergei Rodionov (Spartak Moscow) 71m for Zavarov; Vadim Yevtushenko 78m for Yakovenko
Cautioned: Renquin (Bel) 65m
On paper this looked one of the less interesting games. Belgium hadn’t looked that great in the group – they clearly didn’t like the heat – and the USSR had looked a mean machine. It turned out to be a minor classic, full of excellent attacking play and great goals. I remember watching the match in my damp basement flat in York, my girlfriend baffled by my excitement at a match between two teams in whom I had no emotional investment. I had no rational explanation back then but now I think I do. All the football matches that I have enjoyed the most are ones where I have no emotional investment. Watching Bolton is too stressful and tense – not to say downright dispiriting in the last three years – and watching England is sometimes little short of masochism. Watching two teams without being too concerned about the outcome allows a much greater degree of objectivity and – an inevitable consequence – a more thorough understanding of the dynamics of the game. Here endeth the pomposity, back to the football . . .
The first half hour was all about Dynamo Kyiv – I’m sorry, I meant the Soviet Union. They were outstanding, a repetition of the annihilation of Atletico Madrid in the Cup Winners’ Cup Final but without the killer touch. Belanov’s first contribution was an embarrassing swing and a miss at a cross from blond Kuznetsov, the centre-back, who showed all his sides positional versatility with a piece of deft skill in the opposing penalty area. Yaremchuk produced an even worse miss from six yards out after a goalmouth scramble – his miscued shot wasn’t even close.
Belanov proved rather better from twenty-odd yards. He received the ball with his back to goal at the end of a quick Soviet counter-attack, swivelled and punched the ball with his right foot high against the left-hand upright of Pfaff’s goal. You could hear the ball thump off the back stanchion of the goal above the noise of the crowd. Long-range shooting was a feature of this tournament in the rarefied air and high temperatures, and both sides were prepared to pepper the goal. That was it for a first half dominated by the USSR, but Belgium had served warning with a couple of dangerous deep crosses which the Soviets had not dealt with well.
At the start of the second half Belgium came into the game a little more. They made sure that Enzo Scifo, the skilful young Anderlecht midfielder, saw more of the ball, and coach Guy Thys made sure they got as many crosses in as possible to test a perceived weakness in the Soviet defence. Still the Soviets had the best chance of the opening minutes, when Zavarov hit the post after ghosting into the box to meet Rats’ cross; he should have scored, and the shot from the rebound hit was cleared off the line.
Belgium were level a minute later when a long, raking cross from Vercauteren found Scifo unmarked (possibly in an offside position) with enough time to take a touch and prod past Dasaev. Yaremchuk just let Scifo run; the Soviets played an aggressive offside game, even in their own area, but it backfired here with some poor officials on duty.
Belanov continued to be a thorn in Belgium’s side, and he restored the USSR’s lead when Zavarov slipped him the ball twelve yards out on the right. He feinted to blast the shot, committing Pfaff, and then cleverly steered the ball past the goalkeeper’s feet. The turning point came eight minutes later when Vervoort’s long punt found Ceulemans free beyond the Soviet defence. The Belgium captain was two yards offside but no flag came – maybe the American linesman had been reading up on the Cold War – and Ceulemans’ neat finish was allowed to stand. Ceulemans had a good game and a good tournament and a good career, most of it with his socks rolled around his ankles and his shoulders hunched. He was strong as an ox and could run all day, and finished well from any range – he scored nearly a goal every two games from midfield in a distinguished career with Bruges, and played nearly 100 times for Belgium. Paul Van Himst is regarded as Belgium’s best player, but Ceulemans surely runs him close.
The Soviet bad luck continued when Yaremchuk’s fierce shot bounced up and over off the bar rather than back down to the lurking Belanov. The USSR were nearly caught out in the air at the back again when Scifo sneaked in at the far post, but Dasaev saved bravely at the cost of a bump on the head.
The USSR were a system team, and when it worked it was a well-oiled machine; in some way they reflected the Soviet state, a plausible model based on sound philosophy but vulnerable to human fallibility. The Soviet defence showed its fallibility twice in extra-time. They stood and watched as a Vercauteren cross went all the way to Demol at the far post – the twenty-year-old’s header was emphatic – and then failed to close down Nico Claesen as he waited for Clijsters’ header to drop so he could volley home. Belanov’s penalty to complete his hat-trick came too late and a furious late assault was in vain. The Soviets had been the most entertaining side in the competition, but it was Belgium who progressed.
Mexico
(1) 2
Bulgaria
(0) 0
15 June, Azteca; 114,580
Negrete 34, Servin 61
Brazil
(1) 4
Poland
(0) 0
16 June, Jalisco, Gua; 45,000
Sócrates 29 (p), Josimar 56,
Edinho 78, Careca (p) 83
Argentina
(1) 1
Uruguay
(0) 0
16 June, Puebla; 26,000
Pasculli 41
France
(1) 2
Italy
(0) 0
17 June, Olimpico; 71,449
Platini 15, Stopyra 57
West Germany
(1) 1
Morocco
(0) 0
17 June, Universitário; 19,800
Matthäus 88
England
(1) 3
Paraguay
(0) 0
18 June, Azteca; 98,728
Lineker 31, 72,
Beardsley 56
Spain
(1) 5
Denmark
(1) 1
18 June, Queretaro; 38,500
Butragueño 43, 57, 79,
J Olsen 32 (p)
88 (p), Goikoetzea 68 (p)
Impossible to pre-arrange the draw with such a complicated group system, but if the hosts, Mexico, could have handpicked their second-round opponents they would surely have plumped for Bulgaria; no World Cup pedigree, hated the soaring temperatures, no qualify attackers and a really cautious coach. I’m not building up to an “ah, but . . .” moment here – Mexico drew Bulgaria, Bulgaria were shockingly bad again and Mexico won at a canter, scoring two excellent goals in the process. For the first time in a Finals tournament a CONCACAF side was justifying its presence; it was certainly a much better performance than they gave as hosts in 1970. Negrete’s spectacular volley in the first half woke the crowd up after a somnolent first half-hour, and he took the corner th
at led to the second; I’m sure I’m mistaken but I’ve watched the video a couple of times and I’m not sure Servin didn’t just trip and accidentally head-butt the ball into the goal . . .
Brazil survived a couple of early scares to overwhelm Poland. Tarasiewicz’s through ball evaded everybody and caught goalkeeper Carlos on his heels; he was lucky it hit the post instead of drifting into the net. A few minutes later a persistent Poland attack was finally cleared only for Jan Karas to hit a screamer which rebounded a long way off the bar. Brazil started to get into their stride, and the full-backs started to advance and cause Poland problems – the Poles lacked the wide players to get in behind them or make them defend. Júnior fed Careca down the inside-left channel, but he was baulked before he could shoot; Sócrates just pushed the penalty into the corner with no fuss; it was a touch of arrogance that would come back to haunt him. Penalties were a slow process in this World Cup; one of FIFA’s new instructions for the referees was to stop encroachment into the area while a penalty is being taken. They like to sweat the small stuff.
Normal service was resumed in the second half, with Brazil adding three more goals. Josimar made it two in two games with a sensational strike, wriggling between two defenders before hitting a shot high past Mlynarczyk from an unlikely angle; normally the ’keeper has to be culpable with those but Mlynarczyk was beaten by sheer pace. The Brazilian captain added a third, shortly after a spectacular overhead kick from Boniek whizzed past the post with Carlos a spectator. Edinho cleared a Polish foray then sprinted sixty yards to collect Careca’s clever back-heel; Edinho twisted inside the last defender and finished inside the post as if to the manner born. A fantastic goal from a central defender. Careca worked really hard up front with only fitful support from the talented but showy Müller, and he deserved his goal, another penalty after Zico was brought down. It was the last the World Cup saw of Zibi Boniek; his star flickered only briefly on the biggest stage but his hat-trick against Belgium in 1982 was a thing of beauty.
Argentina had just enough to see off Uruguay, who were neutered by a FIFA warning after their tawdry showing and two red cards in three group matches. Without the kicking and intimidation they had little to offer and weren’t missed. Maradona looked really up for the game, but the goal came from a mistake by the experienced Uruguay defender Eduardo Acevedo, who miskicked straight to Pedro Pasculli. Argentina were stodgier than in ’78 and ’82, largely because their coach, Carlos Bilardo, was mechanical and cautious – the antithesis of the free-thinking Menotti, his predecessor.
Italy, with the same coach as in 1982, Bearzot, were a huge letdown. They had a good defence and still had tidy attackers such as Conti and Altobelli, but they appeared tired and apathetic. Bearzot looked worn down by the constant carping of the media – not just the English, then – and, if Altobelli didn’t score, no one else looked capable. France replaced Papin with Rocheteau and he had a hand in both goals, first putting Platini through for a classy chipped finish, and then playing in Tigana, who crossed for Stopyra to score a second and end the game as a contest. It was the last we saw of Scirea in the World Cup, one of the greats and the model for the greatest Italian central defender of the lot, Franco Baresi. Baresi’s brother, Giuseppe, played in the match against France, selected, unsuccessfully, to mark Platini. Scirea was dead by the time the Finals were played next, killed in a car accident in Poland while on a scouting mission for Juventus. Bruno Conti never played for Italy again either and Cabrini was gone within a year. It was the end of the great winning team from 1982, only Bergomi, the teenage sensation, remained through to 1990.
Morocco weren’t a pushover, they had talented players and kept possession well in stifling heat, but they lacked punch and maybe a bit of courage. A 1–0 defeat to a late Lothar Matthäus strike against West Germany earned them much sympathy, but failing to score for the third time in four games was not suggestive of a team gambling to win the match. West Germany had that grim, determined air that suggested, modest side as they were, they intended to go all the way. A draw that saw them meet Morocco and Mexico was hardly strewing their path with insurmountable obstacles.
Grim is an equally apt description of Paraguay in their game against England, they seemed more interested in inflicting pain than defeat. Bobby Robson stuck with the side that beat Poland and it produced an identical scoreline. There was an early scare when Shilton had to tip Cañete’s shot over the ball, and Butcher had to be rescued by his goalkeeper after a careless pass-back. England took control after that, with Reid watchful of the play-maker Romero and the wide players causing problems for Paraguay’s full-backs. Trevor Steven was a revelation; he had ten caps coming into the tournament without ever being a regular, but looked a terrific player here, full of running off the ball and rarely wasteful with it.
After half an hour, Hoddle, enjoying the freedom (if not the Paraguayan tackling), put in a wicked curling ball, which evaded Lineker and his marker, but stayed in play for Hodge to turn back into the middle. Lineker had regained his feet, his marker hadn’t, and England were ahead. Moments later the England man sportingly applauded Fernández in the Paraguay goal when he brilliantly tipped over a volley from Beardsley’s cross.
In the second half Lineker needed treatment off the field when he was cynically elbowed by the Paraguayan captain, Delgado. It was a completely unprovoked attack on a player who never retaliated, and could have caused serious injury. One improvement football has seen in recent years is retrospective punishment on video evidence. Delgado was lucky, but the watching world knew his behaviour was that of a thug and a coward. Justice was done when England scored while Lineker was having treatment. Hoddle’s corner was met by Butcher with a deft control-and-shoot worthy of a Brazilian – Beardsley popped in the rebound when Fernández saved.
Paraguay should have had a penalty when Martin pulled back Cabañas – they were incensed and muttered darkly afterwards, but taking the moral high ground after this performance was a bit rich. Beardsley nearly got a second when he insolently pushed the ball one way round Delgado and nipped round the defender on the other side – sadly the finish didn’t match the lead-up. Lineker, happily recovered and back on the field, did get a second when Hoddle played a terrific ball between two defenders for Stevens to cross. England deserved the win, Paraguay deserved to go home; file alongside Bulgaria and Uruguay under good riddance.
The last match provided the most surprising result. Denmark took the lead against Spain when Jesper Olsen converted a penalty after a foul by Gallego. Two minutes from half-time Olsen was involved again, nonchalantly rolling a square ball into the path of Butragueño, who scored with ease. The only problem was that Butragueño was on the other team; it was a catastrophic error from Olsen and Denmark never recovered. Denmark fell apart in the second half. They gave away two penalties and conceded two more goals to crosses (provided by Spaniards), both scored by Butragueño, who helped himself to four. It was a sad end for the great Danish sweeper, Morten Olsen, now thirty-six and who first played for Denmark in 1970. He carried on until he was nearly forty and won more than 100 caps, but this was his only World Cup. The result meant at least one unexpected semi-finalist, as Spain would now meet Belgium in the quarters.
QUARTER-FINALS
WORLD CUP CLASSIC No.15
21 June 1986, Jalisco, Guadalajara; 65,777
Referee: Charles Corver (Holland)
Coaches: Telê Santana (Brazil) & Henri Michel (France)
Brazil (4–4–2): Carlos Roberto (Corinthians); Josimar Higino (Botafogo), Júlio César da Silva (Guarani), Edinho Nazareth (Cpt, Udinese), Claudio Ibrahim vaz Leal, known as Branco (Fluminense); Ricardo Rogerio, known as Alemão (Botafogo), Sócrates (Cpt, Flamengo), Elzo Aloísio (Atlético Mineiro), Leodevildo Júnior (Torino); Antonio de Oliveira, known as Careca (São Paulo), Luís Corrêa, known as Müller (São Paulo). Subs: Zico (Flamengo) 71m for Müller; Paulo Silas (São Paulo) 90m for Júnior
France (4–4–2): Joel Bats (Paris St Germain); Manuel Amor
os (Monaco), Patrick Battiston (Bordeaux), Maxime Bossis (Racing Club Paris), Thierry Tusseau (Bordeaux); Jean Tigana (Bordeaux), Alain Giresse (Bordeaux), Michel Platini (Cpt, Juventus), Luis Fernández (Paris St Germain); Yannick Stopyra (Toulouse), Dominique Rocheteau (Paris St Germain). Subs: Jan-Marc Ferreri (Auxerre) 84m for Giresse; Bruno Bellone (Monaco) 99m for Rocheteau
Cautioned: None
This was definitely one for the romantics, the last hurrah for two great midfields, the ageing Brazilians and the French Carré Magique (Magic Square). Brazil didn’t quite have the glitz of 1982 – no Falcão, Éder or Cerezo, but Elzo was a powerful fetch-and-carry man, Júnior was playing in his best position and full of imagination and Alemão was an exciting player with a typically explosive swerving shot. The real find was twenty-two-year-old Branco, an attacking full-back with exceptional pace and good crossing ability as well as a fierce shot. Branco had all Júnior’s attacking instincts with the pace and discipline to get back and perform his defensive duties.