by Nick Holt
England qualified for the 1992 European Championships but, shorn of the injured Paul Gascoigne, didn’t make it past the group stage, two 0–0 draws and a defeat by Sweden sending them home. The neutrals in the Swedish crowds jeered their dismal style and the tabloids posted pictures of a turnip instead of Graham Taylor’s head (Swedes beat turnips, geddit?). Taylor took a squad to a major tournament without a recognised right-back and played three different players there, two midfield players and a centre-half. Dearie me. England’s best player, Gary Lineker, saw the writing on the wall and retired.
Come the World Cup in 1994 and there wasn’t even the comfort of a successful qualifying campaign as England made an early, and humiliating, exit. Norway and Holland took the top two places in the group. Norway under Egil Olsen were a salutary lesson to England in how to play the direct game. They got the ball forward just as quickly but they had the forwards to hold up the ball and let the supporting players move into position and create problems around the box – England’s forwards were too isolated and lacked the technique to shield the ball adequately – only when Terry Venables made Teddy Sheringham an automatic pick did England acquire this skill.
England drew at home to Norway – a trifle unluckily, they dominated the game but conceded a late equaliser to a thunderous strike from Kjetil Rekdal. They then gave away a two-goal lead against Holland – the usual Wembley jitters defending a well-earned lead – and lost badly in Oslo. The two Norway games, eight months apart, illustrated how much morale and form had dipped; dominant in the first, England were never at the races in Oslo. England would have to win in Rotterdam to qualify, and they would have to do it without Gascoigne, whose fitness could no longer be relied upon. This was by no means a great Dutch side, but Holland controlled the game, and had a goal wrongly chalked off. Much was made of the referee’s failure to dismiss Ronald Koeman for a professional foul (Koeman scored the opener minutes later), but that was a smokescreen. England, semi-finalists four years earlier, were back amongst the also-rans. England’s final game was a 7–1 win over San Marino; all very routine but after twenty minutes England were still a goal down after Stuart Pearce’s back-pass allowed David Gualtieri to score the fastest goal in World Cup competition on eight and a half seconds. A subsequent fly-on-the-wall documentary made Taylor and his hapless assistant Phil Neal a laughing stock; Taylor didn’t deserve that.
Graham Taylor’s record at club level was thoroughly laudable. He took a nothing club and put them in the upper echelons of the top division – and Watford were never as preposterously one-dimensional as, say, Wimbledon under Bobby Gould; they were direct but intelligent. But even this doesn’t wash at international level. Possession is the law, and Taylor’s England teams never got it.
Scotland were in even worse disarray under Andy Roxburgh. They tried to play but didn’t have the talent or firepower to worry the decent sides any longer. Their only victories in a tricky group were against Malta and Estonia. To many pundits’ surprise it was Switzerland, not Portugal, who qualified alongside Italy, reaching the Finals for the first time since 1966. The Portuguese coach, who brought on many of the “Golden Generation” in his time as the Under-20s coach, was Carlos Queiroz, later assistant to Alex Ferguson at Manchester United, and the Swiss coach was one Roy Hodgson.
Wales did rather better in a competitive group that included Belgium, Romania and Czechoslovakia (competing as the Republic of Czechs and Slovaks – they knew they were about to split into two nations but hadn’t yet sorted out the paperwork!). In an everybody-can-beat-everybody-else group it came down to Belgium’s game against the RCS and Wales’ last home match against Romania, who had thrashed them in Bucharest. Wales had a good side, some top-class players alongside the willing workers who always made up the numbers for a country of that size. Even without the suspended Mark Hughes they could call on Gary Speed, Ian Rush (past his best), Neville Southall, Dean Saunders and a nippy youngster by the name of Giggs. Belgium and the RCS would draw, so without knowing it, Wales simply needed to win.
Gheorghe Hagi was pulling the strings for Romania, and they missed a couple of good chances before Hagi opened the scoring with a long range shot; Neville Southall should have done better. Wales came back and started to trouble Romania from set pieces, one of which produced a poacher’s goal for Saunders. Moments later Gary Speed was hauled down by Dan Petrescu and Wales had a penalty. Left-back Paul Bodin was the penalty taker, and a good one – he scored a crucial one for Swindon to win a play-off match the previous summer and had scored all three he took for Wales. The BBC switched from the dull procession of Ian Wright scoring goals against San Marino to this pulsating encounter. Cue complaints from thousands of England fans who either had no feel for the pulse of sporting tension or simply no pulse at all. Bodin didn’t score and Wales’ chance had gone. A late goal from Florin Raducioiu put the Romanians through instead, and they would illuminate the competition, but it was heartbreaking for a generation of Welsh stars. One, Gary Speed, is tragically no longer with us after taking his own life in 2011. He was manager of Wales at the time.
The closest fight of all came in Ireland’s group, where they had to face Spain and Denmark, the reigning, if unexpected, European Champions, as well as facing the extra challenge of playing their northern counterparts. Wor Jack still had his abrasive defence and had added the even more abrasive Roy Keane to his strong midfield. Up front was trickier, where his main options were the gangling Niall Quinn (not yet matured) and the ageing John Aldridge, never a major force at this level. Still, that defence was redoubtable and they engineered draws in Denmark and Spain. A horrible defeat at home to Spain, when they uncharacteristically let in three goals in the first half, meant everything came down to the last two games in the group. Ireland’s opponents? Northern Ireland, with the Troubles still boiling and anti-Republican feeling at an incendiary level. Jimmy Quinn’s volley seventy-two minutes into a desperate and error-strewn game meant the Republic were going out. Alan McLoughlin’s equaliser four minutes later meant they were still in with a chance. The game had one moment of pure farce; Jack Charlton summoned the giant Tony Cascarino from the bench when Quinn scored, only to discover Cascarino had forgotten to put his shirt on! Not The Times’ football analyst’s finest moment. Ireland went through by the narrowest of calculations, having the same points and goal difference as Denmark but with more goals scored.
A win for either side in the Spain versus Denmark game and Ireland would qualify; a drawn game meant they were out. When Zubizarreta, Spain’s experienced goalkeeper, was sent off for a professional foul after ten minutes things looked bleak for Spain – their substitute was a twenty-three-year-old debutant, Santiago Canizares of Celta Vigo. Spain defended well and Canizares was inspired, making save after save to thwart the Danes – Brian Laudrup could have had a hat-trick against a mere mortal. Ireland were probably praying for a Danish breakthrough but it was Spain who grabbed an unlikely winner with their only serious chance when Fernando Hierro, so dangerous from set pieces, bulleted a header from a corner past Peter Schmeichel. Ireland were through and Denmark were out; sacrilege to say this in Dublin, but the Finals tournament would be the worse for it.
The only group that was over before the last round of matches saw Greece and Russia qualify comfortably from an easy section; the sad demise of Hungary as a football force was partly responsible, but the main reason was the absence of Yugoslavia or any of its progeny, still banned until the hideous civil wars and ethnic purges could be brought to a halt. Greece would make their first appearance in the Finals. Russia competed for the first time as plain old Russia, without any help from the Ukrainians or Georgians or any of the other nationalities that helped constitute the Soviet Union. Seeing how since the break-up of the Soviet state and Yugoslavia a number of those nations have remained competitive in European football, it makes us realise just how little they achieved as composite sides – invariably less than the sum of their parts.
WORLD CUP SHOCK No.8
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17 November, 1993, Parc des Princes, Paris, France; 48,402
Referee: Leslie Mottram (Scotland)
Coaches: Gerard Houllier (France) & Dimitar Penev (Bulgaria)
France (4–4–2): Bernard Lama (Paris St Germain); Alain Roche (PSG), Marcel Desailly (Milan), Laurent Blanc (St Etienne), Emmanuel Petit (Monaco); Paul LeGuen (PSG), Didier Deschamps (Olympique de Marseille), Reynald Pedros (Nantes), Frank Sauzée (Atalanta); Eric Cantona (Manchester United), Jean-Pierre Papin (Cpt, AC Milan). Subs: David Ginola (PSG) 69m for Papin; Vincent Guérin (PSG) 81m for Sauzée
Bulgaria (4–4–2): Boris Mihailov (Cpt, Mulhouse); Emil Kremenliev (Levski Sofia), Trifon Ivanov (Neuchâtel Xamax), Petar Hubchev (Hamburg), Tsanko Tzvetanov (Levski Sofia); Zlatko Yankov (Levski Sofia), Yordan Lechkov (Hamburg), Krasimir Balakov (Sporting), Emil Kostadinov (Porto); Lyuboslav Penev (Valencia), Hristo Stoichkov (Barcelona). Subs: Petar Aleksandrov (Aarau) 82m for Tzvetanov; Daniel Borimirov (Levski Sofia) 82m for Lechkov
Inept as England were, and as unlucky as Denmark were, the prize for the biggest qualifying cock-up, possibly in World Cup history, has to go to France. By September 1993 France were all but through. They led the group by a point and had two home games to go, one against Israel, who had yet to win a match in the group and had lost 4–0 at home to the French the previous February. France weren’t yet the side that won the trophy in 1998 but they had talent in abundance. No Zidane but there was Cantona, and Deschamps, Desailly and Laurent Blanc were all in a side captained by the prolific Jean-Pierre Papin.
Israel played well – they were an improving team – and took the lead when Ronnie Rosenthal, the Liverpool “supersub”, turned his man and arced over a dangerous cross. It seemed to have cleared everyone until Reuven Atar dived and turned it back across goal with his head – Harazi applied the finish. France took over and found a rhythm, with their best work coming through the enigmatic David Ginola, the darling of Paris St Germain. He rolled a square pass for Frank Sauzée to slot home a slide rule shot and then did it all himself, cutting in from the left before hitting a sizzler past Ginzburg; it was a textbook shot, with pace, precision and swerve. Then it all went belly-up. Israeli substitute Eyal Berkovic (yes, that one, but still a newbie here) started a flowing move and Rosenthal’s acceleration took him past two defenders before Nimni nipped the ball off his toes and poked it goalwards; Lama made a good save but the ball popped up to Berkovic, who finished with the outside of his foot. It was Rosenthal again who caused the final piece of the damage, three minutes into injury-time. A quick break found him wide left where he scorched past Lizarazu and crossed for Atar to volley home.
Still, no big deal; even if Bulgaria beat Austria (which they did) and Sweden picked up four points against Austria and Finland (which they did), France were still through if they avoided defeat against Bulgaria. It looked a good bet just past the half-hour. A right-wing cross found Papin peeling off his marker to head back into the path of Cantona. The Manchester United striker adjusted that idiosyncratic upright stride and belted it past Mihailov; it was a goal that would become familiar to Premiership viewers over the next few years. Bulgaria didn’t give up and levelled with a thumping header from Kostadinov from a well-taken corner. The second half was tense, but France looked pretty secure at the back and kept the ball well. The game was in its death throes when a free-kick on the right was rolled to Ginola, whose cross was overhit. Bulgaria pinged the ball quickly down the right and Penev found Kostadinov on the edge of the French penalty area; his shot was instantaneous and fierce. France were out. Their coach, Gerard Houllier, moaned that Ginola should have kept the ball instead of crossing; he was right, and it was the sort of lazy error that came between Ginola and greatness. But how like Houllier to pass the blame elsewhere – it became a familiar refrain at Liverpool.
The events of that night, 17 November, across Europe meant the World Cup was denied a view of either Eric Cantona or Ryan Giggs. It was also the single most exciting and tense night in World Cup qualification history.
The Finals
In recent years the holders of the World Cup have a chance to assess their form before the next tournament as they are now required to qualify for the Finals. In 1994 Germany went into the competition having not played a competitive game since 1992 when they were ambushed by Denmark in the final of the 1992 European Championship. While Franz Beckenbauer’s assessment after the 1990 final that Germany would be unstoppable once the stars from the East were moulded into a united side had been shown as misplaced, they still looked the strongest European entrants. Italy had their fabulous Milanese defence, and both Argentina and Brazil were contenders in America, especially with Maradona back in the frame. Pelé thought Colombia would win – surely the kiss of death, the great man’s predictions are invariably nonsense. Sweden or Spain were probably a better shout as an outsider.
The draw was kind in the first instance, matching them against Mexico in the vast Giants Stadium in New Jersey. Mexico were well-supported and used to the heat, but they lacked quality; their one superstar, Hugo Sánchez, was thirty-six and some way past his peak, and of the rest only Luis Garcia was good enough to cut the mustard in a top European league. That may sound dismissive of the Mexican leagues, but in an odd way – and in stark contrast to the situation with the top African sides – the well-funded Mexican domestic set-up has set them back internationally. With no serious competition on the continent, the best Mexican players lack experience of crunch games, so, while they always qualify, the step-up to a major tournament finds them wanting.
The referee (from Syria) made a pig’s ear of the match. He handed out ten yellow cards (two each to Bulgarian right-back Kremenliev and Luis Garcia), and gave a penalty for nothing in particular – Kremenliev had a bad day, he was the victim here, as well. Stoichkov’s seventh-minute goal was almost worth the admission alone. After Mexico bossed the opening, a careless pass let Kostadinov take possession in the centre circle and he threaded a superb ball inside the last defender for Stoichkov, running from deep. The striker took one touch to push the ball ahead of him, wound that lethal left foot back and hit a hammer blow past Jorge Campos in the Mexican goal. Kostadinov hit the post from a free-kick (the surprise here being that Stoichkov let someone else take one) but neither side could find a way through. Mexico had a horrible time in the penalty shoot-out. Garcia Aspe, who converted the penalty during the match, shot high and wide with the first kick and Mihailov saved two tame efforts from Bernal and Rodriguez. Campos, whose flamboyant self-designed jerseys were a feature of the competition, saved superbly from Balakov but could do nothing about the next three penalties and Lechkov administered the coup de grace – Stoichkov’s dead-eye precision wasn’t even needed.
So. Germany v Bulgaria. No contest, surely, especially as the champions had three extra days to prepare and Bulgaria played extra-time in stifling heat against Mexico. Germany fielded nine players who owned winners’ medals from 1990; they were vast on experience but short on pace.
GROUP A
The United States, under Bora Milutinovic, looked much sharper than in 1990. They had managed to export a few of their better players and the experience of playing in the European leagues gave them a bit more know-how, tactical acumen and guile. American teams are always fit and these stadiums were hot, hot, hot – none more so than the indoor affair in Detroit where the USA played their opener against Switzerland. A draw was about right – both goals came from well-struck free-kicks.
The other opener in the group saw Romania face the much-hyped Colombians in the Rose Bowl, the famous venue for the annual collegiate American Football final. You know I’ve been carping about official FIFA figures distorting the crowd numbers? Not here, the place was packed and it was rocking.
The game was billed as a contest between the two No.10s, Hagi and Valderrama. Hagi won hands down. After sixteen minutes he released Raducioiu down the left. The big striker might not have been able to get in Milan’s first team (no disgrace) bu
t he finished really well here, cutting in past two men on to his right foot and belting the ball past Córdoba. The Romanian playmaker’s next offering was Pelé-esque, a brilliant chip from fully forty yards that Córdoba did well to fingertip away. Córdoba didn’t learn his lesson. He liked to hover on his six-yard line or just past and Hagi had spotted it; his next effort was from miles out on the left touchline and it flew past the Colombian ’keeper with height and power to dip in the far corner. Gorgeous Gheorghe. Valencia’s near post header gave Colombia hope, but Romania looked comfortable, with Valderrama shackled by Popescu and Asprilla a nonsensical parody of the player who destroyed Argentina. It was Romania who scored the last goal, a breakaway from Raducioiu, released by yet another Hagi pass.
Colombia were even worse against the United States, disheartened and short of desire, Rincón and Álvarez apart. Valderrama was kept quiet by Harkes and Ramos, and Asprilla was replaced at half-time. The own goal which gave the USA their lead had appalling ramifications. The culprit, Andrés Escobar, was later murdered in Medellin, Colombia’s capital, apparently because his error cost some gangster a lot of money at the bookmakers. A lot of soul-searching went on and it cast a cloud over the tournament, but the incident said a lot more about Colombia than it did about the World Cup.
Back in the hothouse of the Pontiac Silverdome (sounds like Mad Max IV), Switzerland beat Romania with something to spare. The stadium was a ludicrous choice, with specially flown in grass and no air conditioning, and seating just a few feet from the playing surface – it was a downright health hazard for the players. The Swiss were an unremarkable team but – and it is a feature of Hodgson’s teams – they were well organised and difficult to break down and worked for each other. The defence was vastly experienced – skipper Alain Geiger was approaching 100 caps – and up front Stéphane Chapuisat of Borussia Dortmund was a mobile and intelligent target. Defeat to Colombia in the final game was irrelevant but it did show a couple of cracks in what had looked an impressive façade. Romania clinched top place in the group by beating the USA with a goal from their England-bound attacking full-back Dan Petrescu. The United States were happy to make the second phase, when most pundits predicted they would finish at the bottom of the group. Colombia went home. Sorry, Pelé.