Once again we find ourselves approaching our wonderful four yearly phenomenon that the World Cup summer. Yes yes, I know, The Winter has very much already come in my part of the world. And I can’t even really use the growing up in the Northern Hemisphere excuse cause a) I grew up in Brunei where there weren’t really any seasons, and b) I’ve lived over half my life in my current hemisphere. Regardless of your geographical orientation the World Cup season is very close upon us.
Some of you have been largely ignoring it or been blissfully unaware but are now suddenly pumped, some of you have been slowing keeping a background interest and building up your excitement over time. Me on the other hand I have been excited about this tournament from before it was even announced to be going to Russia all the way back in 2010. It is strange, I know, but I think I was a World Cup fan before I was actually a football fan.
The first World Cup that I actually remember in Mexico ‘86. The World Cup that every aficionado seems to think was the greatest of them all or at worst second to the first Mexican World Cup in 1970. But I largely ignored the epic football drama going on around me back then. My parents were hardly going to let me stay up to watch the games and I was six. No, what I remember to vividly about that tournament was that there was sticker book, with sticker packs from Panini. And it was all the rage. I loved sticker books, and I wanted to buy them and complete them with all my heart but… for a six year old in 1986 (even in Brunei) there was already quite a few great sticker books to keep my attention including dinosaurs, Smurfs and Donald Duck (two out of three of those things i still love very much today). So While Pique the sombrero wearing Jalapeno (it’s not racist if they are doing it to themselves right?) intrigued me and I understood how people were extremely excited about the World Cup I didn’t really get into it.
Four years later Italia ‘90 was a different story. At this point I had been a bit of a casual football fan of a certain red kit wearing club from North West England and slowing learning to love the beautiful game. Italia 90 would be the time when I would learn to love football as both a fan and a geek. Not surprisingly this was fueled by a sticker book once again. Panini’s Italia ‘90 sticker book, had apart from stickers of all the players, also stickers for the team crests (one per pack) and one team photo (also one per pack) but more crucially for me it had a brief history of the world cup in the first few pages. Lets face it even had the best ever mascot. A love affair of a lifetime began (how could it not)
The action on screen thrilled my 10 year old self from the first game where Cameroon beat Argentina, and I will never forget Roger Milla run to the corner flag and do his now famous dance after scoring against Romania. And when the games were over I was begging my parents to buy me every book I could find where I could learn more and more about this beautiful game (and this tournament). From the first World Cup in 1930 to the (then) most recent Cup with Maradona scoring arguably the two most memorable goals in World CUp history. I was heartbroken after Cameroon got beaten by England in the quarters, and then again when the Argentinians lost to Germany in the final. My football education was deepening.
Four years later, I was ready explode from my excitement about USA ‘94. I had bought a sticker book three months ago and I was absorbing every little thing I could about the upcoming tournament. I cut out magazine and newspaper articles, I watched every sport update, and kept an ear for all the rumours. This time my dad let me stay up and watch as many games as my 14 year old self could handle. Once again I was thrilled. This tournament had so many upsets, The hosts beating pre-tournament favourites Colombia (a game that would lead tragic events). Bulgaria coming back from behind to beat Germany, and Ireland beating Italy. Once again though the final would bring me tragedy. As the tournament progressed I admired the tenacity and drive to win of the “Divine Ponytail” Roberto Baggio. He was by far my favourite player of the tournament, and he was dragging Italy kicking and screaming into the finals. If Brazil had just won in regular or extra time, I probably wouldn’t have felt so gutted, but to 14 year old Emran it was one of the great injustices of the 1994 World Cup was that the final and now defining moment of that great tournament was Baggio’s missed penalty and reaction thereafter.
Almost as soon as I got over my final heartache I would go one thinking about he next tournament. There was a small matter of Euro ‘96 (still my favourite Euro) which followed with the qualifiers for the France ‘98. I was following the qualifying, waking up in the wee hours to look at the updates on teletext. By the time the tournament started I knew every player, every team, every coach and everything else. But crucially over time I had an international team that I loved almost as much as my Red Devils. Looking back at it now, the Oranje were probably every football hipsters favourites (much like Colombia or Belgium are today). They had a second Golden generation that were supremely talented and amazingly fun to watch. I can still see Dennis Bergkamp’s goal against Argentina when I close my eyes, I still feel shivers when I see replays of Edgar David’s deflected long range effort against Yugoslavia, and I can’t even mention the 87th minute Kluivert equaliser against Brazil in the semi final without having all those feelings that you can only feel as am 18 year old, course through me again.
At 1986 football barely really registered in my head, and 1990 I was slowly but surely learning to get into the beautiful game, and by 1994 I would learn how much more I still had to learn about the beautiful game. But by ‘98 I had properly come of age as a football fan and as a football geek. I knew how far I would go and how much I would risk to just get a small glimpse of a football game, and I feared no one when it came to knowing my shit regarding football, from its AZ Alkmaars to it’s Zenit St Petersburgs. More importantly that summer (though actually winter where I was) I finally got to watch games with a large group of people my own age. As we all know once the football summer starts even the most contrarian of people get into it. Teachers would let us watch games in class, and were more than happy to let us talk for hours with our post match analysis, and It didn’t hurt that the tournament was an absolute blinder.
And my boys the Oranje were having one of the best tournaments they’d ever had since the 70s. I was to learn something that every Oranje fans learns in their lifetime, with the amazing high flying highs comes the inevitable Oranje crash. I remember screaming like crazy when Kluivert scored that goal, (even my mom who was supporting Brazil, acknowledged that the Dutch deserved that equaliser) but it came crashing down less than 40 minutes later in the penalty shootout. But as bad as I felt, I saw the Brazilian players consoling their Dutch colleagues (many of whom played together at club level) and I didn’t begrudge them their win. That 1998 Brazil team were classy winners.
On the other side of the draw the host nation was inspiring their home fans the world with their play as well. Les Blues powered through their group winning all there games, but had to work hard to grind out results in all their knockout games, beating Peru in extra time and having back to back penalty shootouts against Italy and Croatia. But they showed that they had lots of heart and their fans were inspiring them. I knew going into the final that I would be happy with either team winning but I would like a team that hadn’t already won four times to get the trophy maybe. The final was amazing. Still probably the best World Cup final I have ever watched. When I went back to school a week later everyone was still buzzing about that game.
The new millenium would bring on more tournaments with great moments, ridiculous moments and of course fantastic goals, but I will always look fondly on those tournaments in the 90s where my formative football years were had.
The teenage love affair had blossomed into serious lifelong relationship.
NineSixFourTwo 