10th September 1985.
Scotland clinch a draw with Wales to get to the play offs for the 1986 World Cup final. A typically Scottish story. Needing a point we go behind, lose a goalkeeper when he loses a contact lense and need a late penalty to get the job done.
And then the world seemed to collapse.
I was only five. In Primary Two.
I watched the game and went to bed.
It was the next morning that I found out that Jock Stein had died.
I remember it clearly although I was too young to understand it.
But the memory of Stein lingers still. Maybe at times like this, times of early European exits, of a last gasp win over Liechtenstein, the memory of his achievements haunts our current travails.
A Scottish Cup win and a European quarter final with Dunfermline - building a foundation at that club would see another cup win and a Cup Winners Cup semi final before the 1960’s were out.
A short spell at Hibs saw him guide them into contention for a double, tellingly that challenge fell away as soon as Stein left to join Celtic. At Hibs he also managed the wayward, fleeting genius of Willie Hamilton. Stein saw the potential of the footballer and backed himself to control the temperament that came with it.
And then to Parkhead. We all know the rest. A club that remained huge but was apparently unable to turn their size and history into success on the pitch. A club he reinvented as the dominant force in Scottish football.
With each passing year the 1967 European Cup triumph seems more remarkable, more detached from our current reality.
Like stories of the British Empire stretching to cover the globe, it seems unreal that the Scottish champions, a team drawn from the environs of Glasgow, could somehow reach the summit of European football.
It was, and remains, a remarkable achievement and Jock Stein’s role in it deserves to be celebrated still.
As a Protestant manager of Celtic he was a trailblazer. As a football man he saw only a club that had the potential to be a European giant. He never hid his disdain for some of the more unsavoury aspects of the Old Firm rivalry - although nor could he hide his pleasure at beating Rangers.
Like Bill Shankly he was also a trailblazer in promoting the cult of the manager. If the Rangers manager was due to address the Ibrox crowd on the issue of sectarianism then Stein would choose that day to jump in amongst his own crowd and berate them on their own behaviour.
An important point made and the front page coverage guaranteed. The aura continued to grow. Brian Clough wasn’t the first to cultivate an image. Jose Mourinho isn’t reinventing the wheel with his behaviour.
And the essential decency of the man who knew that football was a game to be celebrated and enjoyed but was not everything. His work to unite the Glasgow fans in mourning for the Ibrox Disaster in 1971 was a measure of both the man and how he hoped the rivalry should be conducted.
He held on to his roots as well. Alex Ferguson recalls a ticking off for not donating to a collection for the miners during the strikes of the mid-1980s: “I’m surprised at you of all people forgetting these lads.”
Maybe in Ferguson we see the last of the breed that gave football Shankly and Stein. Certainly in the Old Trafford manager we see the last of the managers that learnt their business through watching Stein. Big Jock, it turns out, wasn’t that bad a teacher either.
Finally Scotland. The 1982 World Cup and the disappointment of another first round exit. And the push to Mexico in 1986. The final push that proved too much for even this larger than life man.
Bill Shankly, perhaps alone amongst leading English managers in recognising what Stein was on the brink of pulling off, travelled to support his friend in Lisbon for the European Cup final.
“John, you’re immortal” he said after the game.
He wasn’t. But his unique achievements and his memory will live with us as long as the game is played.
* Extensive coverage in today's Record. I had a chuckle at Alan Rough's quote:
"As I walked out of the dressing room Big Jock was standing near the door. His last words to me were, 'Good luck, ya fat b*****d'."
Showing posts with label 1982 World Cup. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1982 World Cup. Show all posts
Friday, September 10, 2010
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Germany v Spain At The World Cup
The obligatory YouTube round up.
The big game was the final of Euro 2008 when Spain took the trophy but will restrict ourselves to the World Cup.
We begin with the glamour of Birmingham in 1966. And a German win:
1982 and the hosts are on the losing side as Germany repeat their 2-1 win from 1966:
And 1994. 1-1 all this one meaning Germany hold the World Cup advantage going into tonight:
The big game was the final of Euro 2008 when Spain took the trophy but will restrict ourselves to the World Cup.
We begin with the glamour of Birmingham in 1966. And a German win:
1982 and the hosts are on the losing side as Germany repeat their 2-1 win from 1966:
And 1994. 1-1 all this one meaning Germany hold the World Cup advantage going into tonight:
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
2010 World Cup: Group A to draw to a close?
Today's Group A game between Uruguay and Mexico seems to be attracting conspiracy theories already.
With both teams needing just a point to progress is there a risk that they'll both settle for a draw?
It's a tricky one. Our collective memory of such things is coloured by the footage of West Germany and Austria and their 1982 farce. It's unfair to judge the players of Mexico and Uruguay because we've seen dodgy dealings in the past.
There's also the spectre of Argentina. Winning the group means avoiding them in the last 16. Hopefully that's enough to ensure we see a proper game between the Group A's best two teams today.
On the other hand both teams will be aware that they deserve to progress. Will a couple of changes to the starting teams, a little shift in the tactics, lead to an unofficial non-aggression pact that suits both?
I don't think so. I think Uruguay in particular will go for it and get the win that sends them through.
And, given the required swing in goal difference, I expect Mexico to go through with them. Although we can but hope that South Africa hand France the beating they so richly deserve.
With both teams needing just a point to progress is there a risk that they'll both settle for a draw?
It's a tricky one. Our collective memory of such things is coloured by the footage of West Germany and Austria and their 1982 farce. It's unfair to judge the players of Mexico and Uruguay because we've seen dodgy dealings in the past.
There's also the spectre of Argentina. Winning the group means avoiding them in the last 16. Hopefully that's enough to ensure we see a proper game between the Group A's best two teams today.
On the other hand both teams will be aware that they deserve to progress. Will a couple of changes to the starting teams, a little shift in the tactics, lead to an unofficial non-aggression pact that suits both?
I don't think so. I think Uruguay in particular will go for it and get the win that sends them through.
And, given the required swing in goal difference, I expect Mexico to go through with them. Although we can but hope that South Africa hand France the beating they so richly deserve.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Terrible defending
Alan Hansen on top form last night as he was sneeringly patronising about New Zealand. His failings as a pundit are being highlighted this year by the excellent performance of new BBC signing Clarence Seedorf.
Seedorf is everything Hansen could have been, maybe once was, if he hadn't settled for the lazy route of interminable banter with Gary Lineker and Alan Shearer. Their aim seems to be to turn the Match of the Day studio into the smuggest place on TV.
They're succeeding frightfully well.
Time for a reminder of New Zealand's last World Cup. When they scored two against a Scotland team that managed to concede eight goals in three games.
A Scotland team that included an ever present Alan Hansen at centre half.
And what would Hansen the pundit have to say about his collision with Willie Miller in the crucial final game against the Soviet Union?
Seedorf is everything Hansen could have been, maybe once was, if he hadn't settled for the lazy route of interminable banter with Gary Lineker and Alan Shearer. Their aim seems to be to turn the Match of the Day studio into the smuggest place on TV.
They're succeeding frightfully well.
Time for a reminder of New Zealand's last World Cup. When they scored two against a Scotland team that managed to concede eight goals in three games.
A Scotland team that included an ever present Alan Hansen at centre half.
And what would Hansen the pundit have to say about his collision with Willie Miller in the crucial final game against the Soviet Union?
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
Scotland in 1982: Crash, bang, goal difference
In the latest New Statesman there's an interesting article by Gary Younge on his relationship with the England team.
In it he notes that, in the international arena, Scotland have "found a way to enter into the spirit of being lovable fuck ups."
It's easy to recognise what he's talking about, the sing and drink at all costs mentality that I'm not entirely comfortable with and which found its true voice in 1982.
It always concerns me when I hear Gordon Strachan's well worn anecdote about his reaction to Dave Narey's opening goal against Brazil: "Oh no, you've got them angry now."
Probably just a joke, an example of Gordon being Gordon. But it does worry me that a Scotland player would think like that. Especially one managed by Jock Stein. If Stein couldn't propagate a winning mentality then nobody ever will.
Tragically the 1982 World Cup would be Stein's only major tournament in charge of Scotland. Where Ally McLeod had left dischord, big Jock brought a well prepared stoicism. McLeod hadn't seen Peru until they were knocking three goals past Alan Rough. Desperate not to repeat those mistakes Stein even subjected himself to a trip to New Zealand in the company of Archie McPherson to ready himself for the challenge ahead.
With a depressing predictability it still wasn't enough.
You knew that a Stein squad would be disciplined and well briefed - last week I heard Pat Stanton describe Jock as "Al Capone's grandfather" because of his uncanny knack to know everything that was going on.
Scotland would need all his experience to negotiate a group involving Brazil, the Soviet Union and New Zealand.
Given the experience of 1978 beating New Zealand might be considered a result but it looked more likely that Scotland would battle with the exuberantly talented Brazilians and the Soviet Union to progress to the next round.
So it proved.
Scotland kicked off against New Zealand and, strangely for a nation drawn inexorably to potential banana skins, got the job done. Not quite with the minimum of fuss. 3 up inside 35 minutes, Scotland found themselves only 3-2 ahead with 20 minutes to go. John Robertson and Steve Archibald saved the blushes and secured a 5-2 win.
You don't need to be too keen a student of the Scottish national team to suspect that those two Kiwi goals might come back to haunt us.
Next up were Brazil. For people of my age THE Brazil. The Brazil of Zico and Socrates, of magic football and no World Cups.
Expect the unexpected. Dave Narey scores the goal of his life and Scotland are ahead. Jimmy Hill earns the unforgiving enmity of the Tartan Army. "We hate Jimmy Hill, he's a..." Well, I suppose "he's a thrice married, opinionated pundit with a larger than average chin" just wouldn't have scanned.
Brazil give us 15 minutes of glory before hunting us down. Zico equalises and Falcao's goal three minutes from time seals a 4-1 victory.
While Brazil taught us lesson, the Soviet Union were beating New Zealand 3-0. Going into the last game Scotland and the Soviet Union had both won one and lost one. They'd scored four and conceded two. We'd scored six and conceded six.
The stage was set for a third consecutive elimination on goal difference. And a 2-2 draw with the Soviet Union condemned us to exactly that.
Amazingly, however, Scotland did manage to find yet another way of manoeuvring ourselves into that position. Having exhausted the undefeated and hapless incompetence options, we settled on the comical defensive mishap route for 1982.
1-1 all with only minutes remaining and Scotland need a goal to progress. What we most certainly didn't need was an Alan Hansen and Willie Miller shaped collision. With the two defenders taking each other out, Shengelia raced through and beat Alan Rough.
Graeme Souness got a late equaliser but the chance had gone. A fifth World Cup, a fifth first round exit.
Crap as we are at this World Cup malarkey we are at least inventive in plotting the path to our elimination. Scotland fans are like a hapless bloke who keeps going back to the same girl because she's got a limitless supply of break up lines.
"Dear Jock, it's not you. It's Willie Miller and Alan Hansen..."
So even Jock Stein couldn't take us over the threshold. It would be difficult to find three more different characters than the quiet Willie Ormond, the exuberant, shy and contradictory McLeod and the magnetic, brooding Stein. Yet none of them could find an approach that worked.
The 1982 squad gave all they could, recovered from the unlikely Kiwi fightback and were ultimately undone by a freakish misunderstanding in defence.
But Northern Ireland, making a rare World Cup appearance, progressed from a group that included Spain and Yugoslavia. What is it they say about your friend's successes?
Another chance was gone.
We still had Stein though, bringing stability, offering a father figure to a football nation. Scotland and Jock Stein planned to be back to try again in four years time...
A lot of experience, a bag load of domestic honours, no little European success. But still not enough.
World Cup number three for both Joe Jordan and Kenny Dalglish.
Two future Scotland managers in here as well. Two future Rangers managers as well. And 3(ish) Celtic managers.
Alan Rough (Partick Thistle)
Danny McGrain (Celtic)
Francis Gray (Leeds United)
Graeme Souness (Liverpool)
Alan Hansen (Liverpool)
Willie Miller (Aberdeen)
Gordon Strachan (Aberdeen)
Kenny Dalglish (Liverpool)
Alan Brazil (Ipswich Town)
John Wark (Ipswich Town)
John Robertson (Nottingham Forest)
George Wood (Arsenal)
Alex McLeish (Aberdeen)
David Narey (Dundee United)
Joe Jordan (AC Milan)
Asa Hartford (Manchester City)
Alan Evans (Aston Villa)
Steve Archibald (Tottenham Hotspur)
Paul Sturrock (Dundee United)
David Provan (Celtic)
George Burley (Ipswich Town)
Jim Leighton (Aberdeen)
In it he notes that, in the international arena, Scotland have "found a way to enter into the spirit of being lovable fuck ups."
It's easy to recognise what he's talking about, the sing and drink at all costs mentality that I'm not entirely comfortable with and which found its true voice in 1982.
It always concerns me when I hear Gordon Strachan's well worn anecdote about his reaction to Dave Narey's opening goal against Brazil: "Oh no, you've got them angry now."
Probably just a joke, an example of Gordon being Gordon. But it does worry me that a Scotland player would think like that. Especially one managed by Jock Stein. If Stein couldn't propagate a winning mentality then nobody ever will.
Tragically the 1982 World Cup would be Stein's only major tournament in charge of Scotland. Where Ally McLeod had left dischord, big Jock brought a well prepared stoicism. McLeod hadn't seen Peru until they were knocking three goals past Alan Rough. Desperate not to repeat those mistakes Stein even subjected himself to a trip to New Zealand in the company of Archie McPherson to ready himself for the challenge ahead.
With a depressing predictability it still wasn't enough.
You knew that a Stein squad would be disciplined and well briefed - last week I heard Pat Stanton describe Jock as "Al Capone's grandfather" because of his uncanny knack to know everything that was going on.
Scotland would need all his experience to negotiate a group involving Brazil, the Soviet Union and New Zealand.
Given the experience of 1978 beating New Zealand might be considered a result but it looked more likely that Scotland would battle with the exuberantly talented Brazilians and the Soviet Union to progress to the next round.
So it proved.
Scotland kicked off against New Zealand and, strangely for a nation drawn inexorably to potential banana skins, got the job done. Not quite with the minimum of fuss. 3 up inside 35 minutes, Scotland found themselves only 3-2 ahead with 20 minutes to go. John Robertson and Steve Archibald saved the blushes and secured a 5-2 win.
You don't need to be too keen a student of the Scottish national team to suspect that those two Kiwi goals might come back to haunt us.
Next up were Brazil. For people of my age THE Brazil. The Brazil of Zico and Socrates, of magic football and no World Cups.
Expect the unexpected. Dave Narey scores the goal of his life and Scotland are ahead. Jimmy Hill earns the unforgiving enmity of the Tartan Army. "We hate Jimmy Hill, he's a..." Well, I suppose "he's a thrice married, opinionated pundit with a larger than average chin" just wouldn't have scanned.
Brazil give us 15 minutes of glory before hunting us down. Zico equalises and Falcao's goal three minutes from time seals a 4-1 victory.
While Brazil taught us lesson, the Soviet Union were beating New Zealand 3-0. Going into the last game Scotland and the Soviet Union had both won one and lost one. They'd scored four and conceded two. We'd scored six and conceded six.
The stage was set for a third consecutive elimination on goal difference. And a 2-2 draw with the Soviet Union condemned us to exactly that.
Amazingly, however, Scotland did manage to find yet another way of manoeuvring ourselves into that position. Having exhausted the undefeated and hapless incompetence options, we settled on the comical defensive mishap route for 1982.
1-1 all with only minutes remaining and Scotland need a goal to progress. What we most certainly didn't need was an Alan Hansen and Willie Miller shaped collision. With the two defenders taking each other out, Shengelia raced through and beat Alan Rough.
Graeme Souness got a late equaliser but the chance had gone. A fifth World Cup, a fifth first round exit.
Crap as we are at this World Cup malarkey we are at least inventive in plotting the path to our elimination. Scotland fans are like a hapless bloke who keeps going back to the same girl because she's got a limitless supply of break up lines.
"Dear Jock, it's not you. It's Willie Miller and Alan Hansen..."
So even Jock Stein couldn't take us over the threshold. It would be difficult to find three more different characters than the quiet Willie Ormond, the exuberant, shy and contradictory McLeod and the magnetic, brooding Stein. Yet none of them could find an approach that worked.
The 1982 squad gave all they could, recovered from the unlikely Kiwi fightback and were ultimately undone by a freakish misunderstanding in defence.
But Northern Ireland, making a rare World Cup appearance, progressed from a group that included Spain and Yugoslavia. What is it they say about your friend's successes?
Another chance was gone.
We still had Stein though, bringing stability, offering a father figure to a football nation. Scotland and Jock Stein planned to be back to try again in four years time...
Scotland squad at the 1982 World Cup
A lot of experience, a bag load of domestic honours, no little European success. But still not enough.
World Cup number three for both Joe Jordan and Kenny Dalglish.
Two future Scotland managers in here as well. Two future Rangers managers as well. And 3(ish) Celtic managers.
Alan Rough (Partick Thistle)
Danny McGrain (Celtic)
Francis Gray (Leeds United)
Graeme Souness (Liverpool)
Alan Hansen (Liverpool)
Willie Miller (Aberdeen)
Gordon Strachan (Aberdeen)
Kenny Dalglish (Liverpool)
Alan Brazil (Ipswich Town)
John Wark (Ipswich Town)
John Robertson (Nottingham Forest)
George Wood (Arsenal)
Alex McLeish (Aberdeen)
David Narey (Dundee United)
Joe Jordan (AC Milan)
Asa Hartford (Manchester City)
Alan Evans (Aston Villa)
Steve Archibald (Tottenham Hotspur)
Paul Sturrock (Dundee United)
David Provan (Celtic)
George Burley (Ipswich Town)
Jim Leighton (Aberdeen)
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