Monday, January 02, 2023
Victims of the Anschluss, Part 1
Plenty of matches at the World Cup have become notorious for their violence; Hungary v. Brazil 1954, Italy v. Chile 1962, Portugal v. Netherlands 2006. But perhaps the most disgraceful match in the history of the competition contained no violence at all...and, indeed, hardly any football at all.
This was the encounter between West Germany and Austria in Gijón on the 25th of June, 1982, in which Horst Hrubesch's early goal for the Germans was followed by eighty minutes of nothing. A parody of a match, in which the result desired by both teams was obtained early in the game, and retained for the duration. Inevitably, given the identity of the participants, the game was quickly dubbed the Anschluss.
Why did such a result suit both teams? Because it left the two sides level on points with the victims of the fix, Algeria, but with a superior goal difference. The Germans had to win, but not by too many goals. One would be preferable.
Even the German and Austrian commentators were shocked and embarrassed; the Austrian Robert Seeger even encouraged his viewers to switch the game off. The unrepentant Germans brushed away the inevitable outrage. "We wanted to progress, not play football," was the comment from the manager, Jupp Derwall.
Yet the focus on this match has, over the years, somewhat overshadowed the achievement - and the story - of the Algerian side, history-makers in many senses.
Algeria, finally gaining its nationhood in 1962 after one of the most bitter wars of independence of them all, had originally fared poorly in World Cup qualifying. Despite a history of producing players who became respected professionals in the French league, the Algerians had regularly fallen at an early stage of African qualifying prior to 1982.
However, things were about to change. An impressive new generation of players was emerging which reached the final of the 1980 African Nations Cup, for which Algeria, incredibly, had not even qualified since 1968. The influence of an experienced Russian coach, Evgeny Rogov, was also important. Taking a leaf out of the book of Argentina's Cesar Luis Menotti, Rogov built a home-based team which functioned almost like a club side, playing a stream of friendlies and gradually forging a modus operandi.
Rogov oversaw qualification for the 1982 World Cup in Spain, but just prior to the tournament he was replaced by a figure who was clearly considered a more fitting, and perhaps inspiring, figurehead for the Algerian team: Rachid Mekhloufi. The excuse given was Algeria's relatively poor showing in the 1982 African Nations Cup, but there were other reasons for the eleventh-hour appointment.
Mekhloufi's football career was almost an allegory for the history of his nascent country. Spotted playing for his local Sétif club as a teenager, he was brought to St. Etienne by the legendary French coach Jean Snella, and was a seasoned professional in the French league by 1958. That, of course, was the year in which France gained third place in the World Cup in Sweden. And Mekhloufi, already capped four times by France, might well have played a part in that achievement. But to the shock of the French authorities, he, along with a number of other Algerian professionals playing in France, joined the "rebel" FLN football team. It was no small sacrifice.
Banned by FIFA, this symbol of the Algerian independence movement played a number of friendlies against teams from the communist countries, and upon independence in 1962, some of them (like Mekhloufi) actually managed to resume their professional careers in France. But they were accorded enormous reverence within the new nation, and the symbolism of a FLN veteran leading Algeria into its first World Cup was irresistible.
Mekhloufi had a number of fine players to call upon, as well. More in Part 2.
