Watching the World Cup from America: The goals of 1978

If I had to name the three World Cups I remember best, I’d go with 2002, 1986 and 1978. Korea/Japan 2002 because it was the first I wrote about online, Mexico 1986 because it was the first where I saw all the matches, and Argentina 1978 because it marked a quantum leap in my football fandom.

One of the catalysts was a book – a booklet, really – which previewed all 16 tournament squads.  No idea where I got it, but it was the first time I’d seen any real analysis of current international football. Remember, this was the USA, and such texts were very hard to come by. There was also no internet for ordering books online; you really had to dig to find what little was available.

The booklet gave a large-size page to each of the teams, laying out strengths, weaknesses and probable starting lineups. The writer was quite pointed in his comments, for example rubbishing Scotland’s supposed chances to take the trophy. (Prophetic words.) In my state of relative ignorance, it was a concise primer in tactics, exactly what I needed. For the first time, I could watch the tournament knowing exactly what to look for.

Even better, for the first time I could watch some of the games on live TV at home. Good old KMEX Channel 34 came to the rescue, broadcasting games in Spanish from the feed provided by Spanish International Network in Miami.

The primary commentator was the one and only Tony Tirado. I could write a book on what a huge and wonderful part he played in my life in my 20s and 30s. A Peruvian and former goalkeeper himself, he called the games from the Miami studio – and oh, how he called them. He delivered football with Latin American passion, all-consuming and all-absorbing. Soccer in English was a game; futbol in Spanish was life itself. Remember, my first language of football was Spanish, and Tirado’s ardour was what I’d been seeking for years, without knowing it.

(Here’s the spot to mention one of the high points of my life. I first wrote about Tony Tirado in an online article prior to the 2002 World Cup. Unbelievably, he read it and e-mailed me with praise. As if that weren’t enough, shortly after the tournament began HE CALLED ME UP THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENED and I spoke with him on the phone. Oh my God. If you can imagine a 46-year-old Ph.D. instantly reduced to a barely sentient hyperventilating eight-year-old…)

Oh, and just like in 1974, I had a miraculous summer job where I could finagle time off to see some of the games on closed-circuit. I was in law school at the time, and working for a two-man law firm that just happened to be suing companies for misconduct in negotiating Spanish-language rights for soccer television in the USA. So the law partners understood my obsession and allowed me to adjust my schedule around some of the telecasts.

So, supplied with basic tactics, a passionate experience of the game, and the chance to see most of the matches, the team I fell in love with was Tunisia. No, I’m not trolling. The 1978 Carthage Eagles are one of the great underappreciated sides in World Cup history. They had a whirlwind midfield led by Tarek Dhiab and Temine Lazhami, and played absolutely without fear. The one thing they lacked was a striker – Lazhami, listed as a forward, played deep, and as a result there were rarely enough bodies in the penalty area.

Still, in the opener against Mexico, after conceding a first-half penalty, they won going away 3-1, the first African side to win a match at the World Cup. They then played a strong Poland side completely even, losing 1-0 on a fluke defensive error, nearly leveling when Lazhami hit the crossbar late.

The final group match was against West Germany, defending world champions, and again Tunisia were equal to their opponents. With the score 0-0 in the final minutes, I’ll never forget the Tunisians knocking the ball confidently about, settling for a draw, even though a win would have put them in the second round. They weren’t afraid to lose – they were just proving their point. They were as good as anyone.

Along with Lazhami, my favourite player was Franco Causio. We think of Italy, particularly the Italy of that era, as the masters of negative football, but they’ve always produced players of supreme elegance. In 1978, Causio was the most elegant of them all. Like Lato four years before, he played primarily from the wing, but was a very different kind of player: a superb dribbler and passer, a maker more than a taker. Ever so graceful, he made the most difficult moves look effortless. At the end of his career, he would get a cameo in the 1982 final, and a World Cup winner’s medal for his cabinet, but it was 1978 (and, I would learn later, 1974) where he truly shone.

Memorable moments? The quality of the goals in 1978 was simply extraordinary: Archie Gemmill’s slalom, Arie Haan’s two long-range blasts, Nelinho’s impossible bender (and don’t forget his piledriver against Poland), Cubillas’ perfect free kick, Krankl’s left-foot trap and smash. For a real treat go to YouTube and watch them all, and as many others as you can find – it was a truly remarkable year, quite likely the best World Cup ever for top-class finishes. But besides the final minutes of Tunisia-West Germany, the two moments that stood out for me weren’t goals: in fact, they were goals that might have been but weren’t.

The first was in the group match Spain-Brazil. It wasn’t a vintage Brazil side, and although they gathered momentum and eventually finished third, they laboured through the first group stage. With the score 0-0 midway through the second half, and Spain on the attack, Francisco Javier Uría sent in a high cross from deep, and Emerson Leão, Brazil’s famed goalkeeper, flapped. The ball fell to Julio Cardeñosa, and he absolutely positively bet-the-house-on-it had to score – except he forgot rule number one: in order to score, you have to shoot. At the last second he remembered, and somehow still bungled it:

(starts at 10:37)

Undoubtedly they’ve been blowing chances at the World Cup since 1930, but there can’t have been many like that. The game finished 0-0, and even though Spain beat Sweden in their final group game, they went home.

The second almost-goal came in the infamous Argentina-Peru match in the second group stage. Needing to win by four goals to make the final, Argentina won by six, and it’s always been assumed Peru were bribed to throw the match. Maybe so, but no one told Juan José Muñante, Peru’s lightning right winger, known to the Spanish commentators as JJ.  In the 11th minute, he set off on a perfectly timed run, raced onto a long ball from midfielder Alberto Quesada, beat the defence, and from a narrow angle…hit the post. There is absolutely no question he was trying to score. Had he done so, who knows what might have happened? In the end, fairly or otherwise, Argentina won the trophy. Oh, and again I supported the losers in the final.

The coda to my 1978 came when Sports Illustrated magazine, the leading USA sports weekly, put the World Cup on the cover for the first time. It was their one and only article on the whole tournament – and I found three clear factual mistakes. Indignant at their ignorance (what could you expect from Americans?), the pedant in me dashed off a strongly worded letter. To their credit, I received a reply, where they admitted two of the mistakes, but not the third, which involved a complex computation on advancement from the group stage. To this day, I maintain I had it right and they had it wrong.

Oh, well. At least the USA was beginning to see the tournament mattered. But in 1982, I would be the guilty party, because for the first and only time I put the World Cup second in my spectating life. Only briefly, but still second. In the next instalment, I’ll make my confession…

Peter Goldstein