The Football Tragic

In the two years after Willy Brokamp left, MVV Maastricht suffered a slump. Relegated from the Eredivisie, they were battling away somewhat unconvincingly in the second division when their old hero returned to the club in 1976.

Brokamp was, in short, somewhat unimpressed by the quality of the football on offer. In typical style, he demonstrated his disappointment in a number of idiosyncratic ways. During one particularly depressing MVV performance, he decided to play with his shirt pulled over his head, goal-celebration style, as if to avert his eyes from the mediocre quality of play. In another match, he registered his displeasure at receiving virtually no service during the first half by having the traditional post-game shower...at half-time.

He too, however, was not the force he once was. A former clubmate recalled that Brokamp didn't go through the usual pre-game warm-up, because otherwise he would run out of puff during the match. Still, he managed a very decent goalscoring record during his second stint at MVV, as usual. After a couple of perhaps less-than-committed years, he threw himself into his real love - the hospitality business. With everything that the word "hospitality" implied. And he made a great success of it, managing several establishments and becoming well-known in the region as an entrepreneur of sorts. 

Football? Brokamp still watched the game, but lamented that modern players had become a little too "robotic", and regretted that kids no longer learned the game on the streets, with all the playfulness and improvisation that implied. Johan Cruyff, interestingly enough, expressed similar sentiments before he passed away. Brokamp did eventually produce the inevitable ex-footballer's book, but rather than the ponderous ghostwritten humble-bragging which tends to be the order of the day, he filled a book with funny anecdotes from his playing days - the sort of stories, in other words, that he would have regaled friends with over a coffee or a beer.

In 2017, the main Limburg TV station caught up with Brokamp at one of his establishments, to commemorate his acquisition of the Aux Pays-Bas in 1973. No longer sporting his trademark blond hair, the mellow veteran reflected happily on his playing days and beyond. "Football was never an aim in itself for me. It was just part of a great life."

"I don't drink too much [any more]. I am someone who in the morning likes to have a coffee and read the paper, and go out for dinner at night. I don’t come as often to the café now, I just turned 71. But I do like spending time here, a bit of socialising, chatting with people. I'm someone who likes socialising."

To this day, the story of Brokamp getting to manage a café as the price for his remaining with Maastricht is a perennial favourite in the region. "A café as part of your contract - what sort of player would get away with that?" asked the Limburg TV reporter rhetorically. "Yes, that's right - Willy Brokamp."

# posted by Mike Salter @ 4:11 PM 0 comments

Was Willy Brokamp missed in Germany in 1974? It seems churlish to suggest such a thing, given how thrillingly the Dutch played, not least his replacement on the left side of the attack, Rob Rensenbrink. But it is worth remembering that in the final, Rensenbrink had to go off injured. The one other left-sided attacker in the squad, the much-loved Ajax veteran Piet Keizer, perhaps made the cut for sentimental as much as footballing reasons; in his one game at the finals, against Sweden, he had been unimpressive. Rensenbrink's replacement in the Munich showpiece was René van de Kerkhof: a doughty warrior, but not an incisive attacker or finisher. Could that have been Brokamp's moment instead?

It was, in any event, not the sort of thing that a character like Willy Brokamp would have lost much sleep over.

Ironically, after being merely a provincial star while the big boys from Amsterdam were winning three successive European Cups, Brokamp did eventually end up at Ajax. But not before a last-ditch tactic by the management at MVV Maastricht kept him in Limburg for one more precious season...and started the affable Brokamp on a new career.

In the face of increasingly seductive offers from the big clubs following Brokamp's career apogee in 1973, MVV knew that a serious sweetener would be required if their talisman were to remain at the club. So they arranged for Brokamp to take over the management of the well-known Maastricht café Aux Pays-Bas ("In the Netherlands"). They knew their man well.

Some explanation is in order here. In Holland, a café is generally a bar as well, with coffee available but liquor flowing freely as well. With his sociable nature and fondness for a good time, Brokamp had long fostered an ambition to run his own establishment. It was to be the start of a beautiful friendship; a common joke in the years to come was that Brokamp was his own best customer.

The seeds of his future career had been planted, but eventually the lure of a big move (and a big city) was too much to resist. With the legendary Ajax side of the early seventies gradually disintegrating, and their attacking stars in particular either leaving for pastures new (Johan Cruyff) or passing their peak (Keizer), some new firepower was needed up front. Willy Brokamp signed for Ajax prior to the 1974/75 season. 

Brokamp later expressed surprise that Ajax had paid so much for a player already in his late twenties, but his initial performances suggested that he was going to prove good value. In his first game, away against NAC Breda, he opened the scoring with a superb bicycle kick as Ajax won 4-1. With Keizer now pulling the strings from midfield behind a forward line of Brokamp, Johnny Rep and the excellent centre-forward Ruud Geels, things looked promising for the Amsterdam club.

Sadly, an ongoing dispute between Keizer and the Ajax management disrupted the team, and results fell away. Brokamp stayed at Ajax for two seasons and notched a creditable 23 goals in 55 games (he was not, it must be stressed, the main striker), but the success of the early 1970s proved elusive.

His time in Amsterdam is, in any case, generally remembered for other reasons. The store of Brokamp anecdotes grew exponentially when he was let loose in one of the most fun-loving cities of Europe.

The club management wisely stationed the newly-arrived Brokamp in a house far from the famous Amsterdam entertainment district, Leidseplein. Brokamp promptly rented an apartment in Leidseplein anyway, without telling the club, and made the most of his new digs. "There's more than just football," was his life's motto.

In another irony, Brokamp's second year at Ajax coincided with the return of Rinus Michels to the club. Although Brokamp bore the totaalvoetbal maestro no particular animus as a result of his ejection from the World Cup squad - he more or less ignored all his coaches, apart from his mentor at Maastricht, George Knobel - he seemed to delight in playing the odd prank on Michels. On one occasion, in a game for which Brokamp was benched, Michels was preparing to make a substitution. Another player was supposed to enter the fray, but Brokamp simply strolled up to the sideline and subbed himself on, with Michels temporarily distracted.

Another apparently unconfirmed story involves Brokamp turning up for a morning training session in a tuxedo. The reason? He had been at a friend's wedding the night before, and the night had, well, turned into morning. Brokamp simply saved some time by skipping the inconvenient going-home bit.

Now 30, Brokamp headed back to Maastricht in the summer of 1976 after his eventful stay in Amsterdam. MVV awaited him, but, perhaps more importantly, so did the Aux Pays-Bas. To be concluded in Part 5.

# posted by Mike Salter @ 4:39 PM 0 comments

November 18, 1973. The crucial clash between the Dutch and the Belgians for a place at the upcoming World Cup. When the Dutch team is announced, there are a couple of small surprises. One is the presence of the obscure veteran sweeper Aad Mansveld in the side; the other is the absence of the player who had been, aside from Johan Cruyff, Holland's most prolific and effective player during the qualifying series: Willy Brokamp.

Coach Frantisek Fadrhonc had in fact been chopping and changing throughout the series; Cruyff later lamented that until the arrival of Rinus Michels, "we didn't have a (set) team". There may have been many reasons for the Czech coach to omit Brokamp for such a crucial game. His less-than-serious attitude? The excellent recent form of his replacement, Rob Rensenbrink of Anderlecht? Or the fact that Rensenbrink, due to his club affiliation, would have been very familiar with his opponents? It still seemed a harsh decision. But as subsequent events showed, Brokamp was unlikely to have taken the snub too much to heart.

It was psychologically a difficult game for the Dutch. If you only need a draw in such a crunch match, in front of your home crowd, how do you approach it? The fans would have been looking forward to their Ajax heroes putting the old enemy to the sword. But the Belgians were acknowledged masters at soaking up pressure and hitting the opposition on the break. And their team, far more settled than that of the Dutch, had its share of quality as well, particularly in the shape of the Anderlecht legend Paul van Himst and the prolific Bruges forward Raoul Lambert.

As it happened, the Dutch were almost forced into an aggressive posture by the paradoxically negative tactics of the sly Belgian coach Raymond Goethals. In a game the Belgians had to win, they committed few men to attack and fell back in numbers whenever the Dutch regained possession. The idea was clearly to entice Cruyff and co. too far forward...and it very nearly worked. 

Faced by a resilient Belgian defence, the Dutch crafted few chances. Johnny Rep nearly scored with a downward header from Cruyff's left-wing cross, but the fine Belgian keeper Christian Piot made a superb save. Later, from another left-wing centre, Rep missed an absolute sitter. In between, van Himst broke smoothly clear with the Dutch stranded upfield, in exactly the manner planned by Goethals, only for Johan Neeskens to bring him down with an appallingly cynical foul. 

There was to be no glorious finale, but as the minutes ticked down it looked as if the Dutch had at least accomplished their objective. Then, suddenly, pandemonium. In the very last minute, van Himst's deftly-taken free kick produced confusion in the Dutch defence, and Jan Verheyen - miles onside - volleyed the ball home crisply at the far post. 

Unbelievably, the Russian referee, Pavel Kazakov, disallowed the goal for offside. 

To this day, it remains one of the World Cup's great sliding-doors moments. Belgium could hardly have made as dazzling a contribution to the 1974 tournament as Cruyff's men. But an injustice had clearly been done. And the legend of Dutch football, and the subsequent achievements of the many distinguished Oranje teams that followed, owed an enormous amount (if only psychologically) to the heroes of 1974. What if...?

And so to the preparations for the tournament in Germany. The newly-installed Rinus Michels picked an initial squad of 24, including Willy Brokamp. The Maastricht hero even played in Holland's final warm-up match, a 2-1 win against German club side Hamburg, and nearly scored with a thunderous volley which was saved magnificently by Hamburg goalie Rudi Kargus.

But 24 had to become 22, and Michels, more of a disciplinarian than Fadrhonc, saw Brokamp's happy-go-lucky attitude as a potential liability. To his credit, Michels did not shirk the duty of breaking the bad news personally to Brokamp and the other unlucky man, the distinguished but injury-prone striker Jan Mulder. "What I have to say now will ruin my whole day," began Michels after summoning the pair. They both knew what was coming.

Their reactions could not have been more different. Mulder, in an episode which has become legendary in Holland, reacted by going straight to his father-in-law's house and smashing up a chicken coop. And Brokamp? His reaction was De Witte all over.

"Thanks, Mr. Michels. I'll have a nice holiday then!"

In Part 4: finally a move away from Maastricht for Willy Brokamp, and then a gradual move into a new and even more congenial career.

# posted by Mike Salter @ 5:20 PM 0 comments

Even by the standards of the Netherlands, the Limburg region is a geographical oddity. A Dutch wedge of land shoved awkwardly in between Belgium and Germany, it is a multilingual area with a number of place names reflecting the erstwhile Gallic influence. One of these French names is Chevremont ("goat-mountain"), a village bordering the town of Kerkrade, where Willy Brokamp was born on 25 February, 1946.

A football prodigy, at the age of only 14 he was representing the village team, which competed in the top amateur competition in the country at the time. By the time he was 18 and his talent had become more widely recognised, scouts from both Ajax and PSV Eindhoven were keen to secure the youngster's signature. But despite the lure of the big western cities (and their entertainment districts), he stayed close to home, signing for the most prominent club in the Limburg region - MVV Maastricht.

The Sterrendragers, as they are known in Holland, were at the time a fixture in the Dutch first division, and the arrival of Brokamp propelled them to greater heights. He played either as a left-winger or a striker, but wherever he was on the pitch, he was a good bet to score. In his two stints at MVV he compiled a total of 140 goals. His unmistakable shock of blond hair gave him the nickname De Witte, "The White One".

Even in his early days, it became well-known that any attempt to "coach" Willy Brokamp, much less rein in his determination to enjoy life to the fullest, was doomed to failure. Yet he became a cult figure in Maastricht, and the love was mutual. His sociability was legendary; an MVV fan recalls a time when he, as a very young boy, simply knocked on the club star's front door and asked, "Mr. Brokamp, we're having a kickaround, would you like to join us?". De Witte smilingly joined the anklebiters as they whacked the leather along the laneways. 

Another tale, told by a Dutch journalist, sheds more light on both Brokamp's effusive personality and the lengths to which the locals would go for him. Assigned to cover the following day's MVV home fixture, the journalist was invited by Brokamp to crash at his place and then travel with the striker to the game by train. Brokamp, typically, stayed out until the small hours. And the train left at 7:30 a.m. Stumbling out of bed at roughly that hour and assuring the nervous journo that there was no problem, Brokamp strolled into the station to find the train still there. "Jeez, Willy," said the conductor with a grin, "it's OK if I leave four or five minutes late, but ten...?".

Despite these idiosyncrasies, Brokamp's scoring prowess eventually earned him a place in the national team. In his first match for the Oranje, a friendly against Israel in 1970, he scored the only goal.

Yet for the next couple of years, he was ignored. The new coach of the Oranje, Frantisek Fadrhonc, was conservative by disposition, and considered the wild-haired glamour boy of the south-east a risky option. In fairness, too, this was the era when Feyenoord and Ajax were winning European Cups, and it is perhaps not surprising that a star from a provincial club found it hard to get a look-in.

By the time of the 1974 World Cup qualifying series, even Fadrhonc was convinced that it was time to give Brokamp another go, so impressive had his record been at MVV. In 1973, he jointly topped the Eredivisie scoring charts and was named Dutch Footballer of the Year. So it was off on the road to Germany...with the sturdy Belgians, led by the canny coach Raymond Goethals, in their way.

In the first encounter between Holland and Belgium in Antwerp, the Dutch were glad to come away with a 0-0 draw; Belgian defender Jean Thissen's shot against a post, and a lofted Paul van Himst free kick clawed away by Jan van Beveren, were as close as the Belgians came to scoring. The Oranje then began storming through the "lesser" matches in their qualifying group, amassing 22 goals in three games against Norway and Iceland, Brokamp scoring five of them. The Belgians, however, had also maintained a perfect record against Norway and Iceland, and thus the second encounter between the local rivals became crucial.

But the Dutch almost stumbled even before that. Their return encounter with Norway began cheerfully enough, when a beautifully-weighted cross from Brokamp on the left was headed in expertly by Johan Cruyff on seven minutes. Another goal avalanche seemed imminent, but the Dutch now found the Norwegians a tough nut to crack. Frustration began to creep in: Wim van Hanegem, never a shrinking violet, was lucky to receive only a yellow card for a dreadful, petulant foul on the Norwegian substitute Tor Egil Johansen, and Cruyff - typically - was subsequently yellow-carded for protesting. On 77 minutes, the unthinkable happened when van Beveren, slow off his line, was beaten to a loose ball by the Norwegian forward Harry Hestad (a former Eredivisie player), who made it 1-1.

Perhaps inevitably, it was Cruyff who saved the Dutch bacon. Three minutes from the end, receiving the ball on the right-hand side of the Norwegian box, he slipped a sublime back-heel into the path of the onrushing Barrie Hulshoff, who fired home. Fadrhonc and his men breathed a sigh of relief.

So it was all down to the return match between Holland and Belgium, to be held in Amsterdam's Olympic Stadium. The match would be a pivotal one in Dutch football history - and despite Brokamp's excellent lead-up form, he found himself benched for the first time in the series for the key encounter. To be continued in Part 3.

# posted by Mike Salter @ 6:57 PM 0 comments

Johan Cruyff's Holland charmed the world at the 1974 World Cup, and very nearly claimed the title. The '74 Oranje have gone down in history as perhaps the greatest side not to win the event, the standard-bearers of the beautiful game during a period of sterility, the long-haired revolutionaries who brought joy, creativity and improvisation back to European football.

This has always been a rather simplistic view of the 1974 Dutch. Rinus Michels' charges relied on speed and strength just as much as skill, and resorted to some very rough play at times (notably in their "semi-final" against an equally over-physical Brazil). But it also tells only part of the story. Qualifying for the tournament in the first place was a messy business for the Dutch, and between the qualification and those memorable few summer weeks in Germany, there were a fair few squabbles - and a fair few changes in personnel.

It is often forgotten now, but Michels, the donnish figure who was hailed as the mastermind behind the Dutch brand of totaalvoetbal, was a very late addition to the piece. The man who steered the Dutch through their qualification group was an unassuming veteran Czech coach by the name of Frantisek Fadrhonc, who had previously managed some minor Dutch clubs with a measure of success. His ousting in favour of Michels was thought by many to be at the behest of Cruyff, who had come to wield enormous influence within the national team setup.

Not that Fadrhonc and the Dutch made easy work of qualifying. Their only real rivals in an otherwise undemanding group were the Belgians, Nations Cup semi-finalists in 1972 and an experienced, tough unit. But given the extraordinary success of Dutch clubs in European competition in recent years, and the emergence of Cruyff as probably the world's best player, the Oranje were firm favourites.

The short version of the story is that both the matches between Holland and Belgium ended 0-0, and since Holland had scored a truckload of goals against the group's two makeweights Norway and Iceland, they advanced to the World Cup on goal difference. The longer, more interesting version of the tale will have to wait until Parts 2 and 3 of this series.

Fadrhonc was not the only man who was present during qualification but absent in Germany. Some of these other changes were, admittedly, enforced. Perhaps the most telling was the absence through injury of the mighty Barrie Hulshoff, a giant at the back for Ajax during their European Cup successes of the early seventies. A defender of great power and endurance and no little skill, and - as we shall see - the scorer of a priceless goal during the qualifying campaign, Hulshoff was sorely missed at the big event. 

But club politics played a major role in the choice of players for the final squad as well. Ajax and Feyenoord, Holland's big two from the west of the country, accounted for 13 of the final 22 chosen (14, if you include former Ajax legend Cruyff). Although PSV Eindhoven were rapidly becoming an important third force in the local game, and would win the next two national championships, the only PSV players to make the cut were the beefy van de Kerkhof twins, plus a veteran utility defender. Jan van Beveren, PSV's outstanding keeper, plus the celebrated attacker Willy van der Kuijlen, had both previously clashed with Cruyff. Perhaps inevitably, they stayed behind.

But there was another unexpected absentee, who is the subject of this series of posts. A player whose contribution to Holland's qualification was very significant, and who was also from outside the charmed Ajax-Feyenoord circle. A little further outside it, in fact.

Consult the Dutch scoring charts for the qualification series. At the top of the list, not surprisingly, sits Cruyff, then at the peak of his powers. Just behind him, however, there is a surprise. "5 goals: Willy Brokamp."

Who?!? I hear you cry.

This is the story of one of the great mavericks of the 1970s, a player who many of his contemporaries considered every bit as talented as Cruyff, but who much preferred to have a good time than commit himself seriously to the game. A player whose laddish, Jimmy Greaves-esque antics became legendary in his native Limburg region, and who is still having a good time today.

Welcome to the world of De Witte - "The White One". The irrepressible Willy Brokamp. More in Part 2.

# posted by Mike Salter @ 9:50 PM 0 comments

Just as Brazil's nightmare against Uruguay in 1950 made the conquest of the World Cup an obsession, their early exit from the 1966 tournament in England made them determined to leave nothing to chance when it came to preparation for 1970.

A military junta was in charge of the country, and preparations for the forthcoming World Cup in Mexico took on rather a military flavour. The brilliant eccentric who had steered Brazil through the qualifying stages, Joao Saldanha, was jettisoned in favour of a more politically reliable manager, the austere former national team star Mario Zagallo. And in charge of preparing the team physically was Admildo Chirol, a trainer at the military school in Rio and a former mentor to the young Carlos Alberto Parreira. When Chirol encountered Parreira in Germany after the latter's stint in charge of Ghana and offered him the chance to be part of the preparations for Mexico, Parreira was only too happy to accept the challenge.

Pelé and co. had an astonishing four months (!) to prepare for the event. Along with Chirol, the physical preparation team featured another army man, Claudio Coutinho, who had extensive contacts in the U.S. military and even NASA. Coutinho had been impressed by the so-called Cooper Test (the predecessor of the now-ubiquitous "beep test"), and introduced it to the 1970 players. Ensconced in a Jesuit retreat, the players were able to build up their stamina in almost monastic isolation. They would be similarly shielded from press, fans and assorted troublemakers in Mexico as well - planning for Brazil's return to the summit of world football was immaculate.

Brazil's ultimate victory in 1970 has taken on a mythic character in the years since, and the artistry of the great players in the side - Pelé, Tostao, Jairzinho, Rivelino, Gerson and the rest - has been justly celebrated. But the intense physical preparation played a very important role as well. It says something about their stamina in the heat and altitude of Mexico that only two of the seven goals they conceded at the event were scored in the second half (while they scored 12 of their 19 goals after the interval). Rivelino recalled later that, unlike in previous events, he couldn't recall a single time when he had to get water from the touchline. 

And for Carlos Alberto Parreira, it was the event which confirmed his desire to become a fully-fledged football coach.

Much of this was down to the admiration he conceived for Zagallo, who became a lifelong friend and a priceless adviser at the side when Parreira went on to win a World Cup himself in 1994. He always asserted later that he received his real tactical education from Zagallo; this was, after all, the man who had practically invented the 4-3-3 as a player, introducing the "withdrawn winger" role which was so influential throughout the world. 

Significantly, Parreira's role in 1970 went slightly beyond mere physical preparation. He was detailed to look for potential weaknesses in Brazil's opponents, and his key contribution in this regard was an astute analysis of Italy's tactics. Parreira suggested that Jairzinho, on the right wing, should pull his marker Giacinto Facchetti over to the Brazilian left, to make room for a run up from the back by the other Carlos Alberto, Brazil's right-back and captain.

Zagallo liked the idea and explained it to the team prior to the game. And, famously, the tactic worked to perfection on the occasion of Brazil's famous fourth goal in the final.

Carlos Alberto Parreira's subsequent career is well-known. Taking five teams to the World Cup finals (two of them for the first time), the 1994 triumph, and all the accolades that followed. But the first steps that took him from untried physical preparer to football professor-in-waiting were, perhaps, the most important ones.

# posted by Mike Salter @ 11:46 AM 0 comments

When not on national team duty during his time in Ghana, Carlos Alberto Parreira was given charge of the nation's top club team, Asante Kotoko.

There were political considerations involved. Based in the inland city of Kumasi, the Asante team had long been a symbol of the Asante (or Ashanti) people, a warrior nation that had fiercely resisted British colonization in a series of wars in the 19th century. During Ghana's transition to independence after the second world war, a separatist movement among the Asante had posed a serious threat to the embryonic nation's charismatic leader Kwame Nkrumah. "Kotoko" means porcupine in the local Twi language, and the porcupine, with all its connotations, was the symbol of the Asante people. By having a foreigner in charge of both Asante Kotoko and the national team, it was thought that tensions between the coastal Akan and Ewe groups and the inland Asante could be lessened. 

Rather a large responsibility to put on the shoulders of an untried 23-year-old.

But Parreira responded to the challenge with typical youthful exuberance. Needless to say, a number of players from the national team represented Asante Kotoko as well, including the iconic striker Osei Kofi. Parreira adopted the same policy of concentrating on what he knew best, physical preparation. But, as we shall see, he was starting to display some tactical insight as well.

Victory in the African Cup of Champions Clubs, the forerunner to the CAF Champions League, was the main objective. In the previous year, Asante Kotoko had been knocked out at the quarter-final stage by Stade d'Abidjan of the Ivory Coast; this time, they believed they could go all the way.

Starting with a relatively straightforward win over Saint-Louisienne of Senegal, the "Porcupine Warriors" advanced to the quarter-finals, where their opponents would once again be Stade d'Abidjan. The Ghanaian team won the first leg 3-1, and Kofi recalls how Parreira decided to approach the second leg. The young coach had noticed that the Ivorian side had run out of puff towards the end of the first game, and surprisingly instructed the star striker to hang back in the first half of the return leg, barely crossing the halfway line. "But in the second half, when the Ivorians were tiring, he let me loose, and I scored three goals."

8-3 was the aggregate score, and Asante Kotoko narrowly defeated Djoliba of Mali in the semi-final. In the final, as in the African Nations Cup early the following year, their opponents would be from Congo-Kinshasa (Zaire). Tout-Puissant ("All-powerful") Englebert of Lubumbashi, now known as TP Mazembe, had been somewhat fortunate to reach the final, advancing from the first round via a drawing of lots and benefiting from a walkover in the quarter-finals. 

Parreira recalls the two-legged final tie with a certain chagrin. After a 1-1 draw in Kumasi, Asante Kotoko were leading 2-1 in the return leg in Lubumbashi, before a large, volatile crowd. "Almost at the end of the game, my defender chested a ball, the ref said it was handball and gave a penalty. So it was 2-2."

No away-goals rule. "At the end of extra time, the ref said the winner would be decided by tossing a coin, but there was a pitch invasion and it became utter chaos. Afterwards we learnt that a third game had been organised, but no-one told us (!). The team from Zaire were declared champions, but I consider myself the winner too."

Parreira had learned much and grown both personally and professionally during his time in Ghana. He had harboured no ambitions to be a full-fledged football coach before that, but the seed had now been planted. When a German club came to play a friendly in Ghana in 1968, Parreira was invited to come to Hanover to study audiovisual coaching aids. Keen for a new adventure, he accepted.

And it was in Germany that he encountered his old teacher Admildo Chirol, who offered him another tempting opportunity: would he like to join the physical preparation team for Brazil's upcoming World Cup campaign?

The answer, not surprisingly, was yes. To be concluded in Part 4.

# posted by Mike Salter @ 4:31 PM 0 comments

When the young Carlos Alberto Parreira arrived in Ghana in 1967 to take up the post of national team coach, he found a number of surprises awaiting him. As a university graduate in Brazil, he was addressed as "professor" by the players - a hangover from British colonial times. Sitting down to eat lunch with the players after meeting them for the first time, he was puzzled by the shocked looks he received from his new charges. Previous coaches, apparently, had not deigned to mix with the players on such a relatively intimate level. Parreira immediately made it his custom to break bread with the players and stay in the same hotel in the same conditions, rather than in the comparative luxury favoured by his predecessors.

But the biggest surprises concerned the state of preparation and training in Ghana. The best (club) team in the country, he recalled, trained on a vacant lot in front of the Sheraton Hotel. "They went to work, came back at 5 o'clock, picked up a couple of stones to mark the goal, changed their clothes in a corner and went to play." This was not to last long under Parreira.

Ghana's "Black Stars" had already garnered two victories in the African Nations Cup, and boasted some great talent. The striker Osei Kofi, a star of the 1965 Nations Cup, was recognised as one of the finest players on the continent. Also in the forward line was Wilberforce "Willie" Mfum, who would go on to play professionally in America. The previous coach, C.K. Gyamfi, had already experienced considerable success with the side. Yet, on Parreira's arrival, Gyamfi uncomplainingly accepted being relegated to second fiddle status, despite being fifteen years Parreira's senior. Such was the aura of Brazilian players and coaches at the time.

Parreira, although he harboured few illusions about his tactical acumen at that point, was determined to make his "mission" a success. To that end, he concentrated on what he knew best - physical preparation and training - and brought all his knowledge to bear, as well as the intelligence and charisma that his mentors back in Brazil had recognised. And he gained the players' respect quickly. "He was able to build our stamina, so that we could play two hours non-stop, in any competition," recalled Kofi many years later.

Another Ghanaian international of the time, Cecil Attuquayefio, was a member of his country's delegation when Ghana took the field against a Parreira-coached Brazil in the 2006 World Cup. "He was young like us, a strong guy," Attuquayefio recalled. "I'd very much like to meet him again!"

Ghana went into the 1968 African Nations Cup in Ethiopia as defending champions and one of the favourites. A scare against Senegal in their first match was followed by a late winner against Congo-Kinshasa (soon to be known as Zaire) and a comfortable win over Congo-Brazzaville. The semi-finals pitted them against the Ivory Coast in a thrilling game which ended in a 4-3 win for the Black Stars. Ghana were in the final for the third time in succession. This time, however, it was not to be their day; in a rematch against Congo-Kinshasa, the Ghanaians found the Congolese goalkeeper Kazadi Mwamba (later to have a wretched time at the 1974 World Cup) in defiant form, and lost 1-0.

No beginner's luck for Parreira, then. But this was not his only footballing duty during his time in Ghana. More in Part 3.

# posted by Mike Salter @ 9:13 AM 0 comments

 "Good morning, Professor!"

The 23-year-old being addressed in these terms by his new charges, the members of a national football team, didn't know what to say. He was no professor. He had never been a coach before, let alone a national team coach. He had never even played competitive football himself, at any level. And last but not least, he was over 5,000 kilometres from home.

Yet some fifty years later, perhaps no-one in football would deserve the title of "Professor" more than he. By that time, Carlos Alberto Parreira had taken five separate national teams to the World Cup, and had won the ultimate prize with one of them. Furthermore, he had been part of the backroom team that had fostered the success of the most memorable World Cup winners of all, the Brazilians of 1970. He had saved the club he supported as a boy from relegation (his proudest achievement, or so he claimed). And he had left a legacy of football professionalism and knowledge that made him a hero in many countries throughout the world.

But every journey has to start somewhere. And this is the story of Carlos Alberto Parreira's early steps in the world of jogo bonito.

It goes without saying that Brazil's World Cup wins in 1958 and 1962, and the style in which they were achieved, made them a cynosure for all developing football nations. And the part of the world that was the most anxious to develop as rapidly and impressively as possible, in those days of decolonization, was Africa.

Ghana, formerly known as the Gold Coast, was one of the first African nations to become independent, in 1957. Its charismatic leader, Kwame Nkrumah, saw the country as a potential beacon for the rest of the continent; a prosperous, successful modern nation in hock to neither of the Cold War superpowers. As with so many other charismatic leaders of the era, he looked to sport as a potential symbol of the country's progress. Following Brazil's second successive stylish World Cup victory in 1962, Nkrumah sent the new national coach, Charles Kumi ("C.K.") Gyamfi, to Brazil's national team camp, on a mission to study their tactics and training methods. 

Gyamfi was a pioneer himself. One of the first Africans to play professional football in Europe (at Fortuna Dusseldorf), he was perhaps Africa's finest player throughout the 1950s, and his professional experience made him a natural choice to be the national coach upon his retirement. And Nkrumah's plan came to fruition when, following Gyamfi's return from observing the world champions' preparations, Ghana won the nascent African Nations Cup in 1963 and 1965.

But the Ghanaians' ambitions didn't stop there. Impressed by the Brazilians' thoroughness in preparing their players physically as well as tactically for the big tournaments, the Ghanaians decided to recruit a trainer who could enable their players to compete with hardened professionals at the top level. 1970 was to be the first World Cup with an assured qualifying place for the African confederation, and various old and new African nations had a covetous eye on it. Ghana was no exception.

So it was back to Brazil, this time in search of a fitness trainer, preferably one with real expertise, plus the energy of youth. The Brazilians at the Foreign Ministry, known as Itamaraty, consulted a respected trainer called Admildo Chirol, who was attached to the Botafogo club and had taught at the renowned Physical Education school in Rio (an offshoot of the Brazilian army). Were there any good young physical trainers around? Yes, said Chirol. There was his star pupil of a few years before, a certain Carlos Alberto Parreira, who was working as a physical trainer at the Sao Cristovao club at the time. What's more, Parreira spoke tolerably good English - and Ghana was a former British colony.

Parreira was duly approached. Would he like to work in Africa? Yes, replied the adventurous youngster. Could he go more or less immediately? Yes.

Within less than a fortnight, armed with a diplomatic passport and a self-confidence which belied his years, Carlos Alberto Parreira stepped into the unknown.

More in Part 2.

# posted by Mike Salter @ 11:06 AM 0 comments

Things seemed to be looking up for Andras Torocsik in the summer of 1985. No longer the tearaway of Hungarian football, he had recently married and had a son, and despite his relatively advanced age a western European club had finally decided to take a chance on him. But his sojourn in Montpellier was not a happy one. "I signed for Montpellier only for the money," he recalled many years afterwards. "I felt like an exile there."

He was not the only Hungarian signed by Montpellier at the time; he was accompanied by the 1982 hat-trick substitute Laszlo Kiss. But the two had never been close friends, and the strains of an unfamiliar environment and unfamiliar team-mates, plus the stress of raising a young family, put the always sensitive "Toro" under great pressure. The breakdown of his marriage began at that time, according to his sister Eva. "All I can say is that he returned from France a completely different person."

So began his period of wandering. He went back to Hungary after a year in France (Kiss remained), tried unsuccessfully to find another club, drifted to Canada, had a crack at indoor football...and was unable to settle.

Finally, in 1989, he landed at Budapest's MTK club. Pundits wondered whether Torocsik, now 33 and long out of top-level football, would cope with a return to first-division action. But in his first game, at home to Gyor, he delighted the fans after coming on as a second-half substitute, setting up a goal with all his old craft and providing some memorable moments of skill.

In MTK's next game, he was on from the start. But after only 19 minutes, the second of two dreadful fouls by the Tatabanya defender Endre Udvardi left Torocsik with a fractured tibia. The veteran star's old team-mate Sandor Zombori reported the incident in the press with deep anger, and the unfortunate Udvardi had to suffer cries of "Butcher! Butcher!" for many months afterwards.

Torocsik duly underwent an operation, but when MTK representatives came to see him at his apartment, he wouldn't let them in. By the end of the year he was ready to play again, but he simply didn't turn up to training. His time at MTK was over. There were half-hearted attempts to continue his career at other clubs, and the fans still hoped to see just a bit more of their idol before his retirement. But it all came to nothing. 

There came a period when various sinecures were found for the ailing former star at various clubs, including his old stamping ground of Ujpest. It might have been possible for Torocsik to gradually pull his life together. But his demons continued to follow him. In 1992, he had another serious car accident, and again, he was drunk at the time. There were even reports that he might face a prison sentence, but these proved to be premature.

Gradually, as the nineties wore on, Torocsik found some semblance of steadiness, producing trenchant ghostwritten articles on the state of Hungarian football for a well-known daily newspaper and making tentative moves towards coaching. (He did enrol in a UEFA B Licence coaching course, but only lasted a week.) 

When he turned 50 in 2005, the Ujpest club arranged a gala match in his honour, and Torocsik seemed in fine spirits. He took part in the exhibition match, scored a couple of goals, and his former colleagues were left feeling cautiously optimistic.

But money began to dry up, and his struggles with the bottle continued. In 2010 he suffered a fall at home and hit his head. With only his aged mother living with him, there was no-one to help, and the hematoma that had formed was removed only in the nick of time.

When his living conditions became more widely known, a number of old friends offered to help, including his former international partner-in-crime Tibor Nyilasi and the Ujpest club director Zoltan Kovacs. The latter eventually found him a job as a youth coach, and Torocsik swore not to drop off the wagon again. But he suffered a double tragedy the following year when his mother passed away, and new management at Ujpest pushed Kovacs out the door...and Torocsik with him.

There was another fall in 2014 after a period of heavy drinking, and this time Torocsik did not fully recover. When his friends saw him on his exit from the hospital after the inevitable operation, it was clear to them that "Toro" would not be able to live independently again.

His sister Eva extended his life by a few years, caring for him devotedly, but Andras Torocsik eventually passed away on July 9, 2022.

He never became a Maradona; not even a George Best. But to this day, pace Dominik Szoboszlai, Torocsik is widely viewed as the last genius of Hungarian football. Others could shoot, tackle, or put in powerful headers, but "Toro" could dance around the opposition - and the fans adored him for it.

# posted by Mike Salter @ 9:04 AM 0 comments