Friday, March 11, 2022
Out of Nowhere, Part 1
When it comes to fairytale victories by the underdog in international competitions, it's hard to top the achievement of Greece in the European Championship of 2004. No-one would have given Otto Rehhagel's side a prayer at the start of the event, yet by dint of hard work, a little luck, and a straightforward but superbly executed tactical plan, they shocked the continent.
Yet it has to be admitted in the aftermath: it wasn't that pretty to watch. Yes, there were occasional displays of skill by the elegant Giorgos Karagounis, but by and large the success of the Greeks in Portugal was built on a strategy of containing the opposition, and grabbing a goal from a set-piece or a breakaway. Forty years earlier, their man-marking-and-defensive-sweeper system would have been recognized immediately as classic catenaccio. Their star performers were in defence: the mighty sweeper Traianos Dellas, and above all the unfailingly tenacious Giourkas Seitaridis, who had the honour (if that is the word) of nullifying Thierry Henry, Milan Baros and Cristiano Ronaldo in successive knockout games.
In an earlier European Nations Cup, however, there was an underdog who lifted the trophy despite playing positive, progressive football against the two giants of the day. This was Czechoslovakia, a nation that no longer exists, and they experienced the finest moment in their football history at Euro 1976, in Yugoslavia.
If the tournament is remembered today, it is mainly for the cheeky penalty that secured victory for the Czechs in the historic shootout against West Germany, the defending champions. It is not often that a player's name is added permanently to the lexicon of the game, and Antonin Panenka could not have timed his party trick better. But the Czech triumph was about much more than Panenka.
The line-up for the four-team event in Yugoslavia was formidable. Two years after the 1974 World Cup final, in which the Germans had impressively turned the game around after the shock of Holland's first-minute goal, the Germans and the Dutch would be there to do battle again. The general expectation was that they would meet again in the final in Belgrade; Yugoslavia, the hosts, would present a challenge to Germany in the first of the semi-finals, but few expected the Czechs to give Johan Cruyff's Holland much trouble in the other one.
Before we deal with the Czechs and their road to Yugoslavia, a quick look at the other sides taking part.
Holland looked every inch the favourite going into the event. Forcing their way through a very tough qualifying group, which featured both Italy and Poland, they annihilated their neighbours Belgium 7-1 over two legs in the quarter-finals. It was a sign of the continued improvement in the Dutch side that they had failed to score even once in two games against the same opposition in qualifying for the 1974 World Cup.
And yet there were very few changes in personnel among the Oranje; they had simply gained in confidence and maturity. The solid Piet Schrijvers had returned in goal in place of Jan Jongbloed, the adventurous but hit-and-miss (or rather catch-and-miss) veteran who had filled in at the World Cup. There was a highly effective new attacker in the Ajax forward Ruud Geels, something of a late bloomer. But the core of the side was the same, and Rob Rensenbrink, in superb club form at Anderlecht, had come to rival even Cruyff as an attacking force.
The Germans, too, looked impressive. They came to Yugoslavia with an embarrassment of riches in midfield; the youngsters who had come to prominence at the World Cup - Rainer Bonhof, Heinz Flohe, Uli Hoeness - were now established stars, in their mid-twenties prime. The incomparable Franz Beckenbauer had long made the attacking sweeper position his personal fiefdom, and on the back of Bayern Munich's third straight European Cup, he looked more assured than ever. Sepp Maier was still one of the finest goalkeepers in the world, and Berti Vogts had few equals as a specialist man-marker.
Yet there were three important absentees, all of whom had been highly instrumental in the Germans' World Cup success. Gerd Muller, goal-poacher supreme, had hung up his international boots after scoring the winner against the Dutch in Munich. Wolfgang Overath, of the magisterial left foot, had also decided he had done sufficient work for die Mannschaft. And then there was Paul Breitner, the maverick but supremely talented left-back who had scored so many crucial goals at the World Cup, not least from the penalty spot in the final. At odds with Beckenbauer, he had stated publicly that he wanted nothing more to do with this "shit team", as he characteristically called it, and had rather belied his Marxist principles by moving to Real Madrid. He would be back to play for Germany in later years, however.
The Germans had any number of neat, intelligent, flexible and occasionally incisive players in Yugoslavia. But there was no-one who could finish off a half-chance like Muller, and no-one who could pick a pinpoint pass from deep in midfield like Overath. During the long period where they struggled to break down the Czechs in the final, it was clear just how much these two old warhorses were missed.
Yugoslavia, as hosts, would be no pushover, and they had a point to prove. Disappointing in the 1974 World Cup, apart from a game in which they put nine goals past a chaotic Zaire, they cruised through their qualifying group before disposing of Wales in the quarter-finals. Their major star, the winger Dragan Dzajic, was well past his best, but still capable of providing moments of quality. The team revolved around the sturdy, commanding midfielder Branko Oblak and the tall defender Josip Katalinski, another of the great attacking sweepers of the era, who had been a surprisingly prolific scorer in the qualifiers.
And the Czechs? To be continued in Part 2.
