"Dad, this has to be the greatest tournament ever!" said my 9 year old son after watching Euro 2008. Don't get me wrong it was a
magnificent championship from start to finish, but the nostalgia inside of me flowed out like a typical Brazilian forwards
onslaught "Sorry son, but that honour has to go to the World Cup of 1982."
I began to tell him of my memories of my first World Cup, and to me the best ever tournament. Funnily enough I was 9 when I sat
down and watched it all unravel in the summer of 82. My son, like me, is a football nut. I watch him play every night till dusk,
kicking a ball about on the local rec with his mates, pretending to be the next David Villa, Fernando Torres or Cristiano Ronaldo,
fondly remembering back in 82 after the World Cup me and my mates doing exactly the same but trying to emulate Zico,
Paulo Rossi, Boniek and Platini. Usually after every game of the tournament we would go out and replay the game of the day, then
play it again in every break at school.
Being 9 was ace, it was a time when I was starting to really understand football, and realise how much it meant to my life.
My first memories of watching football start about this time, and so I hope do my son's. Maybe this will be the first tournament
he remembers, and be his favourite too. Memories involving the never-say-die Turks, the rampant Russians, the total football of
Holland (if only briefly), or the free flowing football of the Spaniards will be implanted in him for years to come.
Just like my favourite memories of 82, the brilliance of Brazil, the enigma that was England, the flamboyant French and the
imperial Italians. Great games are what make great tournaments and Euro 08 and WC 82 had them in abundance.
My son never once mentioned England whilst watching the games, and I don't think that he missed them not being there. I think that
one of the reasons that we both enjoyed the tournament is because we weren't there. No agonising, no shouting at the TV about
how inept our so called superstars are. It was quite nice actually. I think it was a better competition for us not being there,
maybe we would have bought the standards down, seeing that we can't put 3 passes together or play in triangles, whereas my son
and I both talked during games about how good Croatia were with the ball, or Spain were without it, players moving into space and
using their brain.
Can you imagine the drubbing Spain would have given us if we actually qualified, or some how got through our group and met Italy,
another quarter final heartache.
Going back to 82, watching England was different, there wasn't that big-headedness about it, well not to a 9 year old. We were actually
lucky to be at the finals, after a dismal qualifying campaign where we lost to Romania, Switzerland and "Your boy's took a helluva
beating" Norway. Of course we still had stars back then - Keegan, Robson and Brooking. Keegan and Brooking didn't play until the last
game against Spain but I think we played more as a team, a unity. I remember watching England v France after school at about 5 o'clock,
the picture on the tele was grainy, and the weather looked red hot; and we won 3-1. I really thought that after that we were going to
win the World Cup. I also remember my dad letting us stay up and watch Brazil's games at night, and seeing Eder's awesome goal against
Russia (still to me the greatest WC goal), and their pounding of Scotland, with the greatest WC free kick by Zico. Two reasons why,
I got on you tube to show my young lad why 82 was better, he agreed that they were great, but didn't realise the brilliance of the
Brazilians then. I still wonder if there will ever be a greater team never to win the world cup than them.
I fondly remember the greatest World Cup game ever, Italy v Brazil (3-2). Brazil needed just a draw to progress, but didn't
count on the emergence of Paulo Rossi, who before this game hadn't yet opened his World Cup account . I remember watching the game in
our front room, on our orange and polka dotted one-seater sofa, which I positioned right in front of the tele. My mum in her wisdom
for some reason started to hoover the room, they were the longest 5 mins of my life, having to weave and move around my mum getting
in front of the TV. Even though I did get a free spin round the room, to accommodate the cleaning, "Move Daniel!" my mum would say.
Not on your nelly mum, I thought, and pretended not to hear. "Right" she said, and swiftly moved me to another part of the room.
My eyes never came off the TV once. The game was a real showpiece, end to end excitement, and great skills on show, especially
from the Boys from Brazil. Zico's pass to get Socrates in to score that great goal from the acuteness of angles was majestic.
Ok so their defence was suspect and, along with the absence of a decent striker (damn you Serginho !), it would be there their downfall,
but for the weeks they graced the WC, the all-out attacking flair, the great
flicks and tricks, and the awe inspiring goals, I was one 9 year old who was hooked on the samba way of playing.
The other abiding memory of WC82 was the game between France and W Germany, what a corker. Semi-final drama at its best,
with France playing like a different team to the one that lost to England, playing through the midfield wonderfully. But the Germans
were to become the comeback kings again, like back in '54. It was also the first ever penalty shoot out.
I remember it all kicking off in the second half, when Battison was sent through clear on goal and was pole-axed by Schumacher.
Probably the worst ever foul in WC history, I couldn't believe my eyes when the ref gave a goal kick. My dad's response was
"Bloody Germans", and something about the war and something about the ref being the ref who let the Brazilians kick 7 lumps out
of England in 1978, funny how things stick in your mind. Still the drama, Amoros hitting the bar in the last minute, made me jump
out of my chair. Justice was not on the menu that day. France, after leading 3-1 in extra-time and with only 20 mins left, let the
Germans in to score 2. There was only going to be one winner after that, as the Germans then beat the depleted French on penalties,
with the thug Schumacher saving 2 of the penalties. Just think of the final there could have been that year if France could have
played Brazil..... Mouth-watering.
Watching the Italians v Argentina was a real eye opener to me. I just thought you played football to entertain and play free-flowing
football, but the way that they tried to stop Maradona from playing was a travesty to the beautiful game. They employed Gentile
to 'mark' him everywhere. Ok, we were at war with the Argies, but to a 9 year oblivious to the politics of it all, I supported Argentina
in this game because they had the more exiting players. With Maradona out of the game the Italians grew in confidence and won the game
2-1. Also in this 'Group of Death' was Brazil. I touched on the game earlier, but another classic was Brazil v Argentina.
The Brazilians were head and shoulders above their great rivals, and played them off the park. I remember Eders 35 yard free kick
that hit the bar. I was stunned by the ferocity of the shot; Zico scored off the rebound and Juniors' little dance as he celebrated
his goal was hilarious; to me anyway.
My main memory of the finals were the Brazil v Italy game, and of course the final. My dad told me before the game to take in as
much as I can, because these are the games that when you grow up you will talk about with your pals in the pub. How right he was.
Being 9 you can only take in so much, I think looking back my dad was being a bit nostalgic himself, passing on a trait that he and
his friends talked about between a jar of mild or two down the Grouse Inn. I remember Cabrini's penalty miss
(first in a WC final, my dad told me), and of course the goals, the best being Tardelli's. Not for the great goal but for the
unforgettable celebration. THAT celebration lives long in my memory bank. To feel like that after scoring in a world cup final
only a select few can answer; the joy, ecstasy and sheer exhilarating feeling of doing it. If I was asked if I could be anyone for
30 seconds, and when, it would be Marco Tardelli just after he scored his goal.
So sorry son, but 1982 was the tournament for me, everything about that era to most 30 something's was perfect. The kits
nowadays are worth a fortune for their retro look, I don't think England have had a better one since, each kit was plain and simple,
with just the nations big badge on, but somehow they just looked great. No logos or fixtures on the shirt. Why bother?
The style of play was different than today. You were allowed more time on the ball, which showed the true great players and
how they could use the ball, there was more build up and the game was a slower pace. Ok the fitness levels of today's players are
immense, and the coverage is 100% better, but somehow I long for the format of yesteryear; the man operated scoreboards,
dodgy tracksuits, even dodgier hair, less PR, better pundits (Cloughie or Lee Dixon ? You decide!) and classic football designs.
Dont get me started on Adidas Tangos !
Nostalgia to some can be somnolent, but to me (and hopefully my son when he grows up) it is the topic of many a great night out
with his football mad friends.
Columnist: Danny Stephenson, 2008-07-23.
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Being 9 (Euro 2008 v Spain 1982) 