by Nick Holt
The shoot-out is burned into the consciousness of any England supporter, the first of numerous exits on penalties that haunted the team over the years. Lineker, Beardsley and Platt scored the first three, and Stuart Pearce was a regular penalty taker for Nottingham Forest and was a racing certainty to score – no wobbly legs for old Psycho. He hit the ball cleanly but straight at Illgner, who saved with his legs. When Chris Waddle spooned England’s next kick over the bar they were out.
Robson was already on his way to PSV Eindhoven after the FA had given notice they were ready for a change. A terrific club manager, he never coped well with the tabloid abuse as England manager. A kind, gentlemanly sort, he could never understand journalists who arrived at England matches boasting about how their article would be the one that got the manager the boot. His tenure as manager was ordinary, and he never really discovered how to best harness his most talented players. England reached the semi-finals in Italy – beyond anyone’s expectations – but they stumbled from game to game rather than orchestrate a coherent campaign. His replacement, Graham Taylor, the Watford manager, was most definitely a man with a plan. Unfortunately it wasn’t a very good one.
England Squad 1990:
GK: Peter Shilton (Derby County, 40, 118), Chris Woods (Glasgow Rangers, 30, 16), David Seaman* (Queens Park Rangers, 26, 2), Dave Beasant* (Chelsea, 31, 2)
DEF: Terry Butcher (Cpt, Rangers, 31, 72), Tony Dorigo (Chelsea, 24, 3), Paul Parker (QPR, 26, 5), Stuart Pearce (Nottingham Forest, 28, 24), Gary Stevens (Rangers, 27, 39), Des Walker (Nottm Forest, 24, 18), Mark Wright (Derby, 26, 24)
MID & WIDE: John Barnes (Liverpool, 26, 53), Paul Gascoigne (Tottenham Hotspur, 23, 11), Steve Hodge (Nottm Forest, 27, 22), Steve McMahon (Liverpool, 28, 12), David Platt (Aston Villa, 23, 5), Bryan Robson (Manchester United, 33, 85), Trevor Steven (Rangers, 26, 26), Chris Waddle (Olympique de Marseille, 29, 52), Neil Webb (Man Utd, 27, 24)
FWD: Peter Beardsley (Liverpool, 29, 40), Steve Bull (Wolverhampton Wanderers, 25, 7), Gary Lineker (Tottenham, 29, 51)
THIRD-PLACE MATCH
A reasonably entertaining game with an appropriate ending as Schillaci signed off with the winning goal. England missed Gascoigne and gave a few of the reserves a game. Shilton signed off less happily with a rare error for Baggio’s goal, but he was a truly great goalkeeper, second only to Banks in England’s history, and a close second at that. David Platt ended a tournament of great promise with a header from a left wing cross – a near replica of his goal against Cameroon, but this time the provider was Tony Dorigo of Chelsea, given a run-out in place of the despondent Pearce.
World Cup Heroes No.25
Salvatore “Toto” Schillaci (1964–)
Italy
Some players enjoy fabulous club careers but don’t deliver when it comes to the big international tournaments. Others emerge from a cocoon of ordinariness to make the most of their big day out. Toto Schillaci is firmly in the latter category.
Schillaci was twenty-five years old at the start of the 1990 World Cup and had a solitary cap to his name. Ahead of him in the queue to play were Andrea Carnevale, Gianluca Vialli, hailed as the best Italian striker since Luigi Riva, and Roberto Baggio, the young, gifted ball-player from Fiorentina. Very much fourth in line was the bricklayer’s son, Schillaci, selected on the back of a successful first season in Serie A with Juventus.
Juve had fallen on hard times after dominating the eighties, and were trying to get back on terms with the Milan giants and the new pretenders, Maradona’s Napoli. They had turned to Schillaci after impressive performances for Messina, the Sicilian Serie B side. Schillaci had played for Messina since he was a teenager, despite his allegiance to the rival city, Palermo, where he was born. Very definitely a boy from the wrong side of the tracks – Schillaci’s brother was arrested for thieving during the tournament – the striker was a very different type of Italian from the chic urban northerners Vialli and Baggio. His playing style was very different, too, more direct and aggressive than his skilful compatriots.
With Italy struggling for goals and Carnevale blotting his copybook, Schillaci got his opportunity and repaid his coach with a series of exciting performances and, more importantly, goals. His impassioned, raised fist, mad-eyed goal celebrations made him an instant folk hero in Italy, and the undoubted star of the tournament. He scored in very game he started and all but one in which he got on the pitch, finishing as winner of the Golden Boot with six goals. In a sterile and low-scoring tournament he was a breath of fresh air.
Schillaci lost form as quickly as he found it, struggling at Juventus and never cementing a place at Inter. He played only eight more games for Italy and scored only one more goal. At thirty years old Schillaci became the first Italian international to move to the J-League in Japan, where he rediscovered his goal touch for Jubilo Iwata.
WORLD CUP FINAL No.14
8 July 1990, Olimpico, Rome; 73,603
Referee: Edgardo Codesal (Mexico)
Coaches: Carlos Bilardo (Argentina) & Franz Beckenbauer (West Germany)
Argentina (4–4–1–1): Sergio Goycochea (Millionaros); José Serrizueal (River Plate), Roberto Sensini (Udinese), Juan Simón (Boca Juniors), Oscar Ruggeri (Real Madrid), Nestór Lorenzo (Bari); Pedro Troglio (Lazio), Jorge Burruchaga (Nantes), José Basualdo (Stuttgart); Diego Maradona (Cpt, Napoli); Gustavo Dezotti (Cremonese). Subs: Pedro Monzón (Independiente) 45m for Ruggeri; Gabriel Calderón (Paris St Germain) 53m for Burruchaga
West Germany (4–4–2): Bodo Illgner (Cologne); Thomas Berthold (Roma), Jürgen Kohler (Bayern Munich), Klaus Augenthaler (Bayern), Andreas Brehme (Internazionale); Guido Buchwald (Stuttgart), Lothar Matthäus (Cpt, Internazionale), Thomas Hässler (Cologne), Pierre Littbarski (Cologne); Rudi Völler (Roma), Jürgen Klinsmann (Internazionale). Sub: Stefan Reuter (Bayern) 73m for Klinsmann
Cautioned: Dezotti (Arg) 5m, Völler (WGer) 52m, Troglio (Arg) 84m, Maradona (Arg) 88m
Dismissed: Monzón (Arg) 65m, Dezotti (Arg) 87m
Because it’s a World Cup Final we’re expected to give it due respect with a full report, blow by blow. But the heart’s not in it. So begins Cris Freddi’s account of the 1990 Final. Amen to that.
An awful, awful game was won by the less deplorable of the two teams. Look on the internet at some of the feeds and a huge conspiracy theory exists amongst Argentinian fans that they were “robbed” of this World Cup. How deluded can you get? They spoiled and fouled their way to the final via two penalty shootouts and showed no enterprise or attacking desire throughout the tournament. Finally they came across a team who were just as versed in (rather different) dark arts and it’s a conspiracy. The Italian crowd certainly showed no mercy, heckling Maradona for his comments before the Italy match and, less forgivably, whistling the Argentinian anthem.
If you want statistics to back up my assertion that Argentina were nowhere near the best side in this competition, here are some:
Argentina
Played 7
Won 2
Drew 3
Lost 2
Goals 5–4
England
Played 7
Won 3
Drew 3
Lost 1
Goals 8–6
Italy
Played 7
Won 6
Drew 1
Lost 0
Goals 10–2
Argentina
Played 7
Won 5
Drew 2
Lost 0
Goals 15–5
The prosecution rests, your honour.
Having played really well to reach the final the Germans decided a bit of gamesmanship was in order to get the Argentinians going, so Klinsmann, Völler, Hässler and the rest started rolling and writhing. It worked a treat. This Argentina side was much more suited to a fight than a game of football so they responded with hacking and spitting and threats. Maradona was lucky to escape censure for an elbow on Buchwald, who went down as if poleaxed. For those of you who don’t remember h
im, Guido Buchwald was six foot two and built like the proverbial brick privy. It’s a miracle Maradona could reach his face, let alone damage it. Minutes later came Monzón’s tackle on Klinsmann that led to the first red card. It was late and a bit reckless but was probably a yellow by the day’s standards. The reason Codesal, the Mexican referee, gave it was Klinsmann’s reaction. You may be familiar with the infamous spear tackle in rugby; this is when a player tackles an onrushing opponent and upends him to land him on his head. Very dangerous and very frowned upon. Here Klinsmann spear-tackled himself, with a spectacular somersault and expertly cushioned shoulder landing. No wonder he was hurt, most people would kill themselves attempting such a manoeuvre. Monzón was the first player to be sent off in a World Cup Final.
The ITV commentary with Brian Moore and Ron Atkinson is hilarious – check it out. Talk about sour grapes after the England defeat. They just get the whole scenario wrong. Yes, the Monzón sending off was harsh, but they then claim Codesal gets the penalty decision wrong seven minutes from time. Völler went down easily but Sensini’s challenge was late and he got a lot more of Völler than N’Kono had of Lineker. Argentina protested for a full three minutes and Brehme was spat at while he waited to take the kick. Undeterred he put it in the corner out of Goycochea’s reach. Brehme took free-kicks and corners with his left foot, but penalties with his right. Odd.
Two minutes later the ITV boys are up in arms again. Kohler hangs on to the ball after conceding a throw and earns severe opprobrium from Upright Ron. Sympathy is forthcoming for the Argentinian who “tried to get the ball off him”. For goodness sake, Dezotti grabbed Kohler round the throat and pulled him backwards! And he had already been booked. The old sourpusses were still moaning about the Germans until the end. Fellers, you were talking claptrap, the team that won was the only one who played football throughout the tournament.
Maradona was booked for a teary protest – at least two other Argentinians should have walked for manhandling the referee. All the bitterness and bile that had tainted their football for twenty years came to a head in this match. The paranoia and conviction they stood alone against the world was manifest and ugly and I am not alone in rejoicing they didn’t win this tournament. And I would admit to a touch of schadenfreude (an appropriately German expression); Maradona was a genius, an extravagant talent, but he was also a cheat, and it’s nice when cheats get their come-uppance.
World Cup Heroes No.26
Rudi Völler (1960–)
West Germany
The German team of the 1980s and 1990s were not an especially loveable bunch. Even my friend Ulrich acknowledges this in Tor! Rummenigge, Matthäus, even the engagingly articulate Klinsmann, they all put people’s backs up. Rummenigge was just a little too Teutonic, too blond, Matthäus too full of himself and the sound of his own voice, Klinsmann a little too knowing and too expert with the diving and gamesmanship. The rest of the team were, by and large, athletic, powerful men with big thighs and limitless stamina, unsmiling and professional and not . . . you know . . . loveable.
The exception was Rudi Völler. A genial, engaging man, he expressed himself well on the pitch and off. He was a tough player who took his share of kicks and bumps without complaining too much – except where Frank Rijkaard was involved. He smiled when he scored and played with the freedom of a volunteer not a conscript.
Völler’s partnership with Klinsmann was dynamic. Both players liked to move across the line and take up wide positions, and they would swap sides regularly, making them hard to pick up. The movement and speed of thought was exceptional, and Völler’s control and ability to pick a pass was a great foil for Klinsmann’s pace and directness.
Völler represented West Germany in two World Cups, 1986 and 1990, and reunified Germany as a wily thirty-four-year-old in 1994 – although defeat in that tournament was a less than happy ending. He reached two finals. In 1986 he scored as a substitute as West Germany roared back into the game with Argentina. In the rematch in 1990 he played the full ninety minutes, but spent most of it looking on as a bemused spectator while the referee lost control of a tempestuous game.
Völler’s performances in 1986 earned him a big-money move to Serie A with AS Roma, after his years with Werder Bremen brought him tantalisingly close to the Bundesliga title, but only as far as second; Bremen finally won the title the year after Völler left. From Roma he went to Olympique Marseille, where he played in the 1993 European Cup-winning side. The club was later stripped of their French league title after their part in a bribery scandal and sent down a division, so Völler went back to Germany with unfashionable Bayer Leverkusen.
Perhaps partly because he never played for one of the big city clubs (especially Bayern Munich, who were loathed elsewhere), Völler was popular with crowds across the whole of the country – a good comparison in England would be the respect in which Chelsea’s Gianfranco Zola was always held by opposing fans.
Völler played his last international at the 1994 World Cup, and packed in completely two years later. He finished with forty-seven international goals – behind only Gerd Müller at the time. Appropriately Klinsmann finished four years later on the same total and only Miroslav Klose has gone past them since.
At every ground Völler played in the second half of that last 1995–96 season he was cheered as his name announced by both sets of fans, and after his last game saw Leverkusen avoid relegation, the opposing captain, his former German team-mate Andreas Brehme, walked to the halfway line, raised Völler’s hand and led him around the ground to a standing ovation.
In 2000 Völler was handed the job as coach of the national team without any club experience. He had the worst squad in living memory to handle and suffered the indignity of a mauling by England and near failure to qualify for the 2002 World Cup before rousing the team to exceed expectations and reach the final. A dismal showing at the 2004 European Championships saw Völler replaced by his former strike partner Jürgen Klinsmann. Even when Völler memorably lost his rag with a journalist during a 2003 interview the German public supported him. Beckenbauer, Rummenigge, Matthäus, Breitner, Klinsmann; they were all better footballers than Rudi Völler, but none of them was . . . you know . . . loveable.
Team of the Tournament, 1990:
Shilton (England)
Bergomi (Italy) McGrath (Ireland Kohler (West Germany) Olarticoechea (Argentina)
Donadoni (Italy) Matthäus (West Germany) Gascoigne (England) Omam-Biyik (Cameroon)
Klinsmann (West Germany) Schillaci (Italy)
Supersub: Milla (Cam)
Official Team of the Tournament: Goycochea and Conejo were jointly given the nod – both were flawed but spectacular as opposed to Shilton’s reassuring competence. The official team had Maldini, Brehme and Baresi at the back – a sweeper and two left-backs. Hmmm. Both the Italian defenders were excellent but both played better against superior opposition four years later; the non-inclusion of McGrath, the best defender in the tournament, is laughable. The official team included Maradona – of course it did. His contribution was fitful and occasional, his team’s progress down more to sharp defending and sackfuls of luck than his genius. Omam-Biyik was outstanding; he showed amazing energy levels and was the heartbeat of Cameroon’s midfield.
Leading scorers: Schillaci (6); Skuhravy (5); Michel, Milla, Matthäus & Lineker (4)
Heaven Eleven No.11
Argentina
Coach:
César Luis Menotti
Goalkeepers:
Ubaldo Fillol: World Cup winner, widely regarded as Argentina’s best ever
Sergio Goycochea: great shot-stopper and penalty stopper – less fond of crosses
Antonio Roma: solid ’keeper behind the 1966 defence
Defenders:
Julio Olarticoechea: cultured left-back and winner in 1986
Daniel Passarella: captain of the 1978 winning team, thighs like steel girders
José Luis Brown: heroic sweeper from 1986, discarded prematurely
Oscar Ruggeri: big, no-nonsense stopper from the Maradona era
Javier Zanetti: quick, alert full-back – played about a million games for Inter and they don’t appreciate bad defenders
Silvio Marzolini: lightning-quick attacking left-back from the ’60s
Roberto Perfumo: one of the less scary members of the ’60s team, captain in 1974
Midfield & wide:
Diego Maradona: himself
Antonio Rattin: a tall commanding defensive midfield player, not one to mess with
Néstor Rossi: first great midfielder of the post-war years
Jorge Burruchaga: Maradona’s lieutenant
Juan Román Riquelme: great playmaker who never quite made the mark he should at international level
Javier Mascherano: stubborn midfielder, neat and aggressive, can play at the back
Osvaldo Ardiles: ball-carrier and prompter, World Cup winner in 1978
Juan Sébastian Verón: undervalued in England, terrific in Italy
Strikers:
Lionel Messi: unplayable on his day, may yet deliver on the biggest stage in 2014
Gabriel Batistuta: rabbit killer
Luis Artime: gifted artiste in a vicious side in the 1960s
Mario Kempes: taking his overall career not an all-time great but a wow in 1978
Carlos Tévez: awkward customer for managers and defenders alike
Omissions: Hernán Crespo had his moments up front, as did Kempes’ strike partner Leopoldo Luque. Ariel Ortega was an exciting attacking midfield player in the Maradona mould. Diego Simeone was a knowing and much-capped enforcer around the turn of the century, while Sergio Batista was a willing runner alongside Maradona and Burruchaga. Juan Pablo Sorín was a terrific wing-back but Argentina are over-stocked there, while Pablo Aimar never quite matched his early promise as a dashing winger. The jury is still out on the likes of Higuaín and di María.