World Cup 1986 - Mexico
My first world cup experience was that of 1986. It was held in Mexico from May 31 to June 29th. I was in high school
then. Daddy was super excited as the matches were being telecast live, for the
first time, in India. He was going on and on about the various teams especially
Brazil and Argentina who were his favourites. He also told me about France and
West Germany who were the strongest European teams and Italy the holders. He
was particularly mentioning players like Zico, Socrates, Platini and above all
Diego Maradona (the 25 year old, little, chiseled, magician from Argentina –
according to Dad). He also told me about legends like Pele, Eusebio, Lev Yashin
who had played in the earlier World Cups.
The popular Indian sports magazine Sportstar, was
featuring a series of columns on the 24 competing teams and the stars to look
out for, which made me familiar with most of the teams before the actual
tournament began. I read about players like Butragueno (Spain), Ceulumans and
Scifo (Belgium), Rummenigge (Captain - W. Germany), Rossi (Italy), Michael
Laudrup and Elkjaer Larsen (Denmark), Barnes, Waddle and Linekar (England),
Belloumi (Algeria), Francescoli (Uruguay), Belonov (Soviet Union) and many
more. Unlike Dad, I was a neutral and did not have any favourites, at the start
of the tournament.
Around that time, the Falkland Island War broke out
between England and Argentina, of which we kept track, with a lot of interest. I
never knew such a place existed and went about locating it in the globe, that adorned our living room, and found a tiny
group of islands, in the Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of Argentina.
The
preparations for the midnight games:
Since the games were held in Mexico, it meant
midnight and early morning live games for us in India. Dad cut out the match
schedule from the Newspaper, which was in a table format and stuck on our
living room wall. He saw through the schedule and earmarked the must watch games.
It was my job to fill in the results, every day, so that we could see who were
progressing and who were eliminated.
We were all excited for the World Cup to start. Our
living room became the bedroom for the next one month. At nights, the tables
and chairs were moved aside and beds were laid on the floor. Dad brought a
variety of snacks to munch on. On the first day, the entire family sat and
watched the match between holders Italy and Bulgaria. We were seeing Mexico for
the first time. The crowd was colorful and vocal. A lot of people wore the
large Mexican hats. Supporters were jumping and hugging whenever their team did
well. It was during this tournament that I witnessed the immense Mexican waves
in the stadium, for the first time, and it was amazing. Overall it was a
carnival with a festive mood.
The first match was not all that exciting, but still
we watched in awe. The stadium was filled to its capacity and was noisy
throughout. We had lots to munch on and at half time Mom made tea for all of
us. We sat through the dull draw, happily eating away, as Dad promised that the
comings days would be more exciting with 2 or 3 matches to look forward to.
Since my school summer holidays were still on, I
didn’t have to worry much about the lessons or sitting up late, for the first 2
weeks of the tournament. I sat with Dad for all the matches. Dad would keep the
alarm so that we were up on time, for the live matches. While the rest slept,
me and Dad sat through the games without missing any. Dad would explain the
rules and the positions of the players. He would appreciate the beauty of the
players’ skills, whoever it was.
The
group stages:
Argentina had a nice jersey – white and sky blue
stripes. Maradona was this little guy who turned into a monster whenever he had
the ball. He was the unstoppable, little hulk who had a crown of thick hair and
a cry baby face (because he was always complaining as he was at the receiving
end of many fouls). Maradona was the center of attraction whenever Argentina
played. No wonder, I am unable to recall the rest of the team.
Slowly but surely, the creative Brazilians, led by
the elegant and skilled Socrates (who was actually a doctor), were emerging as
strong contenders with their consistent and emphatic display.
The aging and injured Platini was playing his last
world cup. I instantly took a liking for the Juve star and looked out for him
in the matches of France.
Laudrup emerged as a star for the exciting Danish
team. They were the team that scored at will. They caused a stir when they
upset the much fancied West Germans.
Soviet Union was another dark horse who were running
riot with their aggressive play.
The wonderful Gary Linekar proved to be savior for
the struggling England. The English started to come together as a team after
the group stages.
Uruguay was the roughest team of the tournament as
they indulged in extreme physical tactics. Every time they played we expected
at least one red card.
Mexico – the home team of little merry men drew the
biggest and most vociferous crowds and they were definitely living up to the
expectations of their fans.
The young Belgium team was also coming on to its own
after a few struggles.
Bulgaria and holders Italy also managed to get into the
last 16.
The African team - Morocco was the surprise package as they qualified
for the knockout stages. The Asian teams disappointed despite promising displays.
The
Knock Outs:
By the time the tournament reached the knockout
stages, the Falkland War came to an end with Argentina conceding defeat and
England winning back the Islands. By then my school also reopened after the
summer vacation. During school days, I would come home and sleep early so that
I could be up all night.
The pre
quarterfinals had a few upsets and some expected results. France bundled out
the holders Italy, who were underwhelming throughout. The dream run of Denmark
came to an abrupt end as they were taken apart by Spain. Germany broke the
hearts of the Morrocan fans by eliminating them.
A steady Belgium saw off the
energetic Russians. The home fans were ecstatic as Mexico beat Bulgaria to
enter the quarters. Argentina chucked out the much hated Uruguayans while
Brazil eased past Poland.
Every day I would fill the schedule table with the
results and slowly the quarterfinalists emerged. I started backing France and
England more than the other teams. Among the quarters, all except one were
decided on penalty shootouts. Germany beat the home team Mexico, Belgium saw
off Spain and France caused a major upset as they knocked out the much fancied
Brazil.
By a quirk of fate, Argentina took on England in the
4th quarter finals. The recent war between the two countries added
more spice to the contest. Then, came the biggest factor – Maradona -who
influenced the game, in a way never seen before. A clear hand goal by Maradona
was given in favour of Argentina which left all of us infuriated. Within
minutes came an astonishing piece of artwork from the same guy, to score the
best goal of the tournament (later voted the goal of the century) to give Argentina a 2-0 lead. Though Linekar
did score a late goal, it wasn’t enough. That moment I hated Maradona more than
anyone in this world.
England were eliminated and Argentina and Maradona
had a mortal enemy sitting faraway in India. The next day I was angrier to read
Maradona’s words saying it was the Hand of God. While Dad was all smiles at Diego’s
wit, I was offended. “What Hand of God? It was his stupid hand and he knew what
he was doing.” I retorted angrily. After
that, I supported every team Argentina was playing against.
While France took on West Germany, Argentina faced Belgium
in the semifinals. Germany beat France and that was the last time I saw Platini
play for France in a World Cup. I was sad for him, but Germany were the better team.
Then came the big match and naturally I was up in
arms against Maradona (and my Dad). Much to my annoyance and to the glee of
Daddy, Belgium was no match to Maradona. To rub salt on my wound, the guy
scored, not just once, but twice to take Argentina into the finals. I sat glum-faced
as they celebrated their win.
Now I was backing West Germany, in the finals. It was an exciting and and a very physical final. The big players
of West Germany marked Diego Maradona heavily and managed to keep him quiet.
But the rest of the Argentines attacked and soon they were up 2-0. Germany
fought back and made it 2-2.
It looked like it was heading into extra time when
Maradona played a fantastic pass which Burruchaga latched on to and scored to
make it 3-2. With just 6 minutes to go, the Germans couldn’t find an equalizer
and Maradona and Co were crowned the World Champions in Mexico.
Daddy was the happiest that night while I sat fuming, vowing never to support Argentina ever again (I have been made to eat my own words thanks to one little kid from
Rosario). I was glad Maradona didn’t score in the finals.
“But he gave that
awesome pass that led to the winning goal” came my Dad’s reply which wiped my
smile off. Though I never liked him, I had to grudgingly acknowledge that
despite his flaws, Maradona definitely was a great talent and he made the World
Cup of 1986, his very own. (I and West Germany, did have our revenge in 1990!).
It was a memorable experience and every time I think
of those days, I feel happy and nostalgic. Thinking of Maradona today, makes me
smile (of course with a little frown). I immensely miss my late Dad whenever
the Football World Cup is played. I am forever indebted to Daddy for his patience
to introduce and explain the beautiful game to me as a youngster and for
creating such wonderful memories.
Despite Maradona ( I don't think I will ever get over that anger - LOL!) the 1986 World Cup would always have a
special place in my heart.
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