Recalling mystery of ’78 as World Cup coverage now runneth over
With the tournament that’s in it below in South Africa, we might substitute a couple of other names, maybe Rep and Luque, though it’s not so long ago.
The first World Cup that impinged on this column was the 1974 edition, when the irresistible name of Dutch winger Johnny Rep burned itself on our little mind.
By 1978 we were that bit older, but the tournament was still a matter of mystery and rumour – before, during and after.
With the 24-hour news cycle and the internet, it’s hard to convey the attractions of a World Cup in that era. Occasional nuggets of information drifted into view, but there was no way of knowing, for instance, that a recently separated player was now seeking consolation in the arms of a lap dancer, for which information from this World Cup we are deeply grateful.
(As a job description the above profession would have needed definition on its own terms back in 1978.) This isn’t a sentimental trip down boithrín na smaointe – there’s a lot to be said for the super-slow-motion replays from all angles of Maicon’s goal for Brazil, for instance – but it does strike us that you lose something with the lack of mystery.
For a classic illustration, when Diego Maradona came to everyone’s attention for the 1982 World Cup, a persistent rumour circulated that the great Argentinean was, in fact, the little kid who juggled the ball in a then-current Pepsi commercial. Every lunch-break in school saw furious debates on the theory’s plausibility.
Nobody ever saw fit to puncture the enjoyment by pointing out that a 22-year-old Maradona in 1982 could hardly be the same individual as the (admittedly) mop-topped youngster in the commercial; we were either too naïve or having too much fun arguing the toss. What added to the experience in 1978 was England’s non-appearance.
No, this isn’t a pretext for some kind of racial incitement. It simply meant the players on show were even more exotic – if the English stars you knew from the old First Division had featured that would have rendered the viewing experience far less interesting.
It wasn’t all positive, of course. Anybody who takes the time to YouTube some of the tackling from the 1978 World Cup would be well advised to wait until after the watershed lest their sensitivities be offended.
The American essayist John McPhee has an elegant description of the discreet fouling that goes on in basketball, his favourite sport: the subtle felonies of the court.
In 1978 the likes of Daniel Passarella were committing felonies that were at the opposite end of the spectrum to subtle.
Away from the playing fields the malign dictatorship of the Argentinean generals was little reported, which makes a fair contrast with the unease raised in many quarters about the preparations for South Africa’s tournament, with observers pointing to the exploitation of building workers in the run-up to the World Cup – eventually those workers were given free tickets for some of the games, which would hardly have occurred if the issue hadn’t been publicised.
There are other compensations, of course. If we didn’t have blanket coverage of South Africa across every conceivable platform, for instance, we’d never have learned of Nicolas Anelka’s outburst of abuse directed at the odious French manager, Raymond Domenech.
The striker is reported in the French media to have said, “Va te faire enculer, sale fils de pute,” to his gaffer, which is not translatable in mixed company.
However, allow us to say: Nicky, you speak for us all.
* michael.moynihan@examiner.ie; Twitter: MikeMoynihanEx
