World Cup foul play magic moments

By tdf, June 9, 2014

With the world cup almost upon us, and little to ponder other than Group previews and the larval birth pains of the transfer season, I feel the time is ripe for a look at the less glorious facets of the global game; the gouges, pokes, dives, elbows and headbutts…some of which will be focused on the combatants in the upcoming warfare, yet much will be merely a joy ride down memory lane.

The tournament allows us to shed our political correctness cloaks and show our true tribal loyalties and seething hatred, polarizing our opinions of whole countries onto 11 of their representatives on the field! The tournament is war without the killing, unless that is, you are a colombian defender…

Let us begin this voyage of frivolity with a peek at one of the finest auditions for ‘most disastrous cheat in the game’ by Chile U20 starlet, Bryan Carrasco.

Incredible.

Moving on swiftly to former Man United coach Carlos Queiroz. The man who persuaded Alex Ferguson to fork out a few million gold nuggets for the criminally disappointing Dede. Carlos has been awkwardly positioned in the highly sought after Iranian national team manager since 2011 which seems an odd role for a firebrand latin lunatic…

Ever since qualifying group foes South Korea visited Tehran and lost to the hosts has the tension been rising, with South Korea manager, Choi Kang-Hee declaring after the game that he would “make life painful” for the Iranians when they visited his homeland. Stepping far closer to spitefulness, South Korean captain, Son Heung-Min told reporters that when he next faced Iran, “I will make them shed tears of blood”. How’s that for fighting talk!

On the eve of the all important qualifier in South Korea, after Queiroz had done his level-best to prove himself unflappable, by conducting interviews with a picture of his nemesis adorning his black polo shirt, Kang-Hee decided to adopt a more diplomatic tone…

“It looks like Iran is nervous. When feeling burdened or chased after, you talk a lot and engage in unnecessary provocation. I will defeat Iran no matter what. Coach Queiroz will be watching the Brazil World Cup on TV.”

Which did not work out as hoped, for whilst his side managed to qualify on goal difference, they lost the game 0-1 to Iran. During the understandable, but in no way understated celebrations, Queiroz appeared to show his counterpart on the opposing bench a clear UP YOURS hand gesture, whilst his goalkeeper, too full of happiness, danced too close to the South Korean contingent after the final whistle and received a few slaps for good measure…

Costa Rica found themselves losing to Ireland in their warm-up friendly against Ireland late last week, and also a player down, due to the needless elbow to the head of Kevin Doyle performed by volatile centre-back Giancarlo Gonzalez…Poor Chris Wondolowski of MLS side San Jose Earthquakes received similar treatment in an american league encounter earlier this year, yet made the mistake of laying a fingertip on Giancarlo’s shirt.

Elbow to the face, then down he goes as if he has been shot in the heart by Jack Bauer. Outstanding work.

With the US confirming – war after war, drone strike after drone strike, mass lie after mass lie – their hard earned status as the most hated nation in history let alone solely the modern era, it is unsurprising that two of the most popular world cup magic moments involve the yankees…

First up is Ramos, making the most of a glance of a tackle from Brazilian wide-man Leonardo.

I will not share the cruel images involving the blood drenched Brian McBride, who found himself on the wrong end of a high tackle by one of the nicest chaps in football, Daniele de Rossi. For I like and respect the former Fulham striker. The amusing nature of the incident was De Rossi’s theatrical shock at the decision to send him off, even with his felled opponent standing right next to him, clearly in need of swift medical treatment. Only the italians eh!

Our african brothers have provided many bone crunching moments over the years, launching into tackles with scant regards for cards or legal costs! One of my personal favourites was the manner in which Claudio Caniggia was halted en-route to goal after skipping past several tackles and seemingly destined for glory. Cameroon’s Benjamin Massing had other ideas…

As the commentator said ‘ and he wont get past that challenge‘

Soon to be appearing in Brazil, Ivory coast midfielder, the wonderfully named Serey Die made news for all the wrong reasons in 2012 when slapping a 13 year old ballboy in the face after his team recorded a loss in the Swiss top flight. Die received an 8 month ban for the offence.

Let us hope that the bullyboy lines up against one of my favourite nutjobs in football, Diego Lugano…who will be manning the rearguard for Uruguay.

How times have changed. You would be hard pressed to find a contemporary pundit who would see the Souness effort below and react with ‘that is certainly a booking’.

A booking??? That brutal scottish enforcer should have been put down for that assault like a farm dog who has killed one too many sheep, chickens, lambs and ponies.

The italians have a reputation as cheats. And there is some sense to the label, but the wording is mistaken. My beloved brethren from Il Bel Paese see football not just as a physical and technical battle, but also mental warfare. For example, when Matterazzi told Zidane that his sister was a whore during the world cup final of 2006, he was not acting out a long held hatred of the former Juve midfield star, it was simply gamesmanship. Unsavoury, and I was more than happy with Zidane’s reaction, not because it helped Italy win the world cup, but I feel that footballers have a responsibility to set an example, and if someone calls your sister a whore, should they be praised? Or headbutted? I prefer the latter…unless that is, your sister is a whore. Still, nobody knew how to stop Zidane in that tournament. Nobody but Matterazzi.

Whilst the italians have had their fair share of divers, they are far more likely to engage in other methods to cause dismay, irritation and gain an advantage of some kind through bending the rules and hoping they don’t snap. The snarl, Signore Gattuso, famously squared up to Ballack during international competition, then for the sake of the referee close-by switched in an instant from aggressor to peace-maker, embracing the german as a brother, yet as soon as the ref turned his gaze, the always angry latin imp pulled Ballack’s hair then jogged away. Classic furbizia (The art of guile)…Unfortunately for Gattuso the Germans are the least susceptible to such antics. For they have no feelings.

Off the ball trips, hair-pulling, pinches, tactical fouls all fall into this art of psychological warfare which the italians take great pride in employing. The south and central americans are also prone to such antics.

One of the finest proponents of the art of guile was Fabio Cannavarro; not just a world class defender, but an incredibly potent cultured thug, using his baby-face good looks to plead innocence time and again with an opponent crying murder in the background as he nursed yet another flesh wound.

One of the greatest examples of the italian form of furbizia was witnessed during the 1982 world cup when Italy came up against Maradona’s Argentina. Undoubtedly one of the most perfect footballers ever conceived in a human womb, the divinely gifted front-man was set against the man marking ‘ability’ of Claudio Gentile. Had the Italian embarked on such a mission of brutality in present day, he would barely have lasted two challenges, yet the football of yesteryear was less sanitized, more ugly. And they don’t come much uglier than Gentile’s shackling routine.

Gentile was clearly enjoying himself. There was nothing obviously evil in his methods, just measured – albeit poorly at times – aggression. During the same tournament, German goalkeeper Patrick Schumacher took out french star Battiston with a flying knee to the face which left the gallic prince in rather a bad way. Platini said at the time ‘he had no pulse and looked pale’. His backbone was damaged in the incident, several teeth knocked out and he later slipped into a coma. As for Schumacher, who showed zero concern whilst the player lay close to death on the field and seemed bothered by the delay in play, when told of the seriousness of the injury after the game, the goalkeeper adopted an uncouth tone…
‘If that’s all that’s wrong with him, I’ll pay him the crowns.‘

Schumacher, not even booked for the horrific murder attempt, went onto make two key saves in the penalty shoot-out which dumped France out of the competition.

Diving is something different. Something lacking any sense of manliness and decency; a sickening way to engineer an advantage. And several of the very worst of the floppers can be found in the brazilian team. Dani Alves is bad enough, Marcelo is another snide bastard, but neither come close to a player who could well light up the whole tournament with his god given talent on the ball. There are only two possibilities when an opponent faces Mr Neymar, the brazilian will either dribble past or dive. No other outcome is plausible…

Not just a favourite of mine, but one of those surely never to be repeated passages of world cup action which lives long and proud in the memory, passed from generation to generation, occurred when Holland played Germany at Italia 90.

Back in those days, the German squad was an all white, traditional teutonic outfit. No sign of the colourful assortment of arabs we see sporting the german colours on the global stage in the modern era. Perhaps it was the two world wars and genocidal efforts in Europe and beyond which was responsible for the widespread dislike for the Germans. That probably played its part, yet also, they were simply damn good footballers. Whose spirit never appeared to lessen, whose sweat never led to cramp and when it came to penalties, they were rightly perceived as human shaped machines. The Germans have often reminded me of the evil rabbits from Watership Down…

During the game, big Frank Rijkaard scythed down Rudi Voller as he scurried forward like a rat. His mullet alone was enough to turn your guts, but his face was pure rodent, lacking only whiskers. Perhaps closer to ferret than rat? After he had dusted himself down and returned to his feet, Rijkaard jogged by and spat in the curly locks…As to why big Frank decided on this course of action, again, we can only speculate. Perhaps he had seen Schumacher in the 82′ tournament? Or it could simply be that the germans represented a decidedly wretched Ayran Supremacy.

Pint-sized Rudi took exception to the affront, rightly so some would say, but not me, I was 100% with the Dutchman in that battle. Whilst big Frank was booked for the tackle, Rudi therafter received a yellow for complaints about the spit, yet remained so incensed by the injustice, his next move was to go in hard on the dutch keeper leading to his second yellow and subsequent red. Could it get any worse for the German? Well…yes it could. Big Frank, throwing caution to the wind, sprinted to just behind the enraged ferret and once more spat in his hair. For millions around the globe, a truly classic world cup moment.

To end this voyage into the less proper special world cup moments, I turn back to Gentile’s buddy from the 82′ edition, Diego Maradona. Four years after he was ‘shackled’ by the italian, the tournament was staged in Mexico. Argentina met England in the quarter-finals and only one man was always likely to steal the show. With the game tentatively tied at 0-0 at the interval it was going to take something special to break the deadlock…Laying the ball off to the right, Maradona surged into the area, jumped towards a fortunate ricochet off a defenders outstretched leg, and used his hand to place the ball past Shilton. Wheeling away in delight, Diego celebrated his ‘wonder strike’ leaving the English somewhat down in the mouth.

In sharp contrast to one of the most successful handballs in history, four minutes later Maradona scored what is widely regarded as the finest goal of all time. Picking up the ball 10 metres into his own half, the diminutive flair-merchant dribbled his way past several players, finding himself in the box, before dummying Shilton then deftly stroking the ball into the unguarded net. It was more than special, it was galactic class.

After the game, never the diplomat nor eager to display any hint of self restraint, the match-winner made the following comments:
“I was waiting for my teammates to embrace me, and no one came… I told them, ‘Come hug me, or the referee isn’t going to allow it…’…(I scored) a little with the head of Maradona and a little with the hand of God”
“Although we had said before the game that football had nothing to do with the Malvinas war, we knew they had killed a lot of Argentine boys there, killed them like little birds. And this was revenge.”

As an englishman I bear no animosity towards Diego. In fact, I find the game a perfect example of the duality found in most geniuses. Where there are flames of divinity, there are invariably flames of hell. Not only did Maradona score one of the most blatant hand-ball goals ever seen, he then went onto show the world pure poetry with the ball at his feet. For all of which I am grateful.

Gary Linekar played and scored in that match and interviewed the striker many moons after the event. In the scene below, Diego seems boyish, jovial, sparkling with mischief. Whilst Linekar clearly finds such a stance understandably hard to stomach.

With the emergence of billionaire owners and cameras following every single inch of the field, the game has changed for the worse over the last decade. There are fewer real characters, more divers than ever before, and with talk of video replays, the situation could grow even worse. I miss the halcyon days of a purer expression on field, which is far removed from the commercial product the game which was once so noble, proud and vicious, has become as the money rivers flood the sport, washing away so much of its raw appeal of spirit, technique and audacity.

There are no Gentiles. A Rijkaard double spit is no longer possible. Shcumacher would be in prison, not saving penalties if he pulled the same trick this June and July. Which many supporters would suggest is for the best. I am of the opposite opinion. For the most popular game on the planet is built on foundations of very basic principles. Some of which are fun to see put to the test of one man’s awareness and ability to make reasonable decisions. Why is it that football is the number one sport of humanity? Why did 3.2 billion people watch the 2010 world cup final? It is the romanticism, the passion, the controversy and the poetry. Such things cannot be merchandised and should be left alone to continue to produce moments as seen above, situations which conjure huge emotion from half the world population in unison.

Let football be beautiful and ugly. Attempting to remove the latter lessens the potency of the former.