Spain 82

Magazine FourFourTwo has run a nice regular supplement this year which has reviewed each World Cup finals since 1982. The question they pose is ‘Which is your World Cup?’

The World Cup that I have most affinity with is Spain 82, as I was just old enough to have an appreciation of what was going on. But interestingly, the principal elements of fascination have endured into adulthood. As a youngster it seemed a distant and exciting affair, full of mysterious countries and players and this still feels the case today. The World Cup is a vibrant tournament of colour and anticipation. The early stages of the tournament are perhaps the most exciting when all of the nations are still involved and the possibilities are at their broadest. Magazines and sticker albums show a multiplicity of countries with a kaleidoscopic array of different flags and strips. It’s not possible to take in all of the detail, but one absorbs the overall sensation.

In 1982, literature on the tournament intimated an arcane and fascinating world of both history and predictions. For example, the publication pictured included a photo of a mysterious great Pele (pronounced Peel to a young child), and bizarre headlines such as ‘England must Czech the French before they strike oil’, which probably confused half of the adult readership as well. I also had a book in which the mascot Naranjito thwarts some baddies who are trying to blow up the finals.

Amongst the sensations recalled from 1982 is the 10-1 administered to El Salvador by Hungary. This was clearly a phenomenal score-line, and I mused as I filled in my wallchart that Hungary must be the best team in the world ever – they failed to make it beyond the first group stage! I also remember the England v Spain game was (according to parental guidance) on too late for me to watch; my Dad agreed to write down the score and leave it next to my bed, so I could see it first thing in the morning. England needed to win 2-0 to progress to the semi-finals and I was convinced that they would make it through. The note the next day read ’0-0′ but this served as an excellent grounding for all further disappointments.

My interest far exceeded the tribulations of England however. Even at a young age it was possible to discern that the Brazil v Italy game represented what sport should be about. The thrilling Brazilian side in their yellow shirts were defeated 3-2 by the underdogs Italy in the brilliant Spanish sunshine.

I also missed the France v Germany semi-final, but heard all about the horror of the Schumacher/Battiston challenge the next day and struggled to comprehend how such an injustice had occurred. This did provide a perfect narrative for the final though. It wasn’t just two nations playing: it was good v bad, somewhat akin to The Rebel Alliance v The Dark Side. I was allowed to stay up with my brother to watch the final and we vociferously supported Italy. Although I probably didn’t have much idea what was going on, the final gripped me. Italy were victorious and this provided temporary reassurance that the world was governed by just principles!