SOCCER's WILD WORLD CUP SCRAMBLE

James Michener

It was a typical summer day in 1966, and Madrid was throbbing with activity. Then, suddenly, this city of more than two million fell silent. Cars pulled to the side of the mad, pedestrians left the streets and a tension grew, so real that you could feel it.

For 90 minutes Madrid remained a silent ghost town, listening to radio and television reports of the World Cup soccer game being played in Birmingham, England, between Spain and West Germany. At half-time the score was 1-1, and Madrid began to pray. In the second half Spain had three good chances to score but missed. Then, in the game's 84th minute, West Germany booted home a goal.

I shall never forget what happened next. Spaniards around me began to weep. One knelt in the street and prayed; another stood on tiptoe for the remaining six minutes of the game, as if by so doing he would help Spain tie the score.

In vain, the whistle blew, and Spain was eliminated from the World Cup competition. Spaniards everywhere swore, snarled at their wives and stated, "This nation is finished."

What I saw that day in Madrid was tame compared to what happened in Italy and Brazil when their two favored teams were shamefully defeated in early rounds. The Italian team, beaten by unknowns from North Korea, fearfully sneaked home to Italy by unscheduled plane at 1 a.m. Bitter fans, however, had expected a trick and were on hand to attack them with tomatoes. "You have shamed Italy!" the crowd roared. In Brazil, fans went into mourning, and some even tried to take their own lives. The government stepped in to find out why their champions had collapsed.

WORLDWIDE INSANITY

Anything can happen in World Cup competition. In 1950 the dark-horse United States upset England 1-0, and in 1966 the amazing North Korean team made it to the quarter finals, where they led Portugal 3-0 before losing to the personal attack of Portugal's Eusebio, the finest athlete I've ever seen, who scored four goals in a row. Eusebio, of course, is a hero in his own country. After foreign engineers had helped Portugal build a new bridge, they went to Prime Minister Salazar and said, "Sir, we want to name this bridge after the man who has done most for Portugal." Salazar coughed modestly and said, "That's very kind of you." The engineers continued: "How do you spell Eusebio?"

Soccer is the most truly international team sport, but there is still some question as to whether it should be called a game or open warfare. When England's Liverpool team journeyed to Italy in 1965 to play Inter of Milan, fans of the Milan team circled the visitors' hotel all night on 500 coughing motorcycles. When the Rangers of Glasgow, Scotland, went to Newcastle, England, and lost, their angry fans damaged much of the center city. In 1967, supporters of Turkey's Kayseri team set off a full-scale battle with pistols, knives and broken bottles against fans from neighboring Sivas. The result was 42 dead and more than 600 wounded.

FANS FOREVER

It is difficult for an American to understand soccer. I learned the hard way. When I was in Glasgow, going to school, I had to choose which of the city's two mighty teams I would back, Celtic in green, Rangers in blue. Because as a boy I had cheered for the Boston Celtics basketball team, I cast my lots with their namesakes. One winter afternoon when Celtic had won a brutal game at the Rangers' park, I was walking home, wearing my green ribbon, when a Ranger fan leaped out of the shadows and punched me in the mouth so hard I fell backward. Other Ranger fans picked me up and apologized: "He don't mean nothing personal. He just hates Celtic."

A fan's loyalty lasts for life. In several football countries, it has been noted, factory production goes up or down, depending upon the home team's win or loss. After England's 1966 victory in the World Cup, immigration to Australia from England dropped by 18 percent. "That victory made Englishmen feel that Britain still has a future," an Australian official explained.

PITY THE POOR REFEREE

One of the crucial facts about soccer is that goals are not made very often, with 2-1 a typical score. This means that the referee's decisions become all-important. If, in the last minutes of a game, he spots what could have been a foul by the defending team inside the penalty zone, he has a most difficult decision to make. If he calls the foul, the attacking team gets a free kick at point-blank range, with only the goalkeeper to defend against the shot. It's an almost certain goal, and all hell may break loose from the stands.

Referees do not have happy lives. In Naples not long ago, fans became angered at a bad call and chased the referee all the way to Rome. In Brazil, deep ditches have had to be dug entirely around the playing field so that fans cannot mob the referee. Things got so bad throughout South America the teams agreed to bring in impartial referees from Europe who were given three promises: good pay, good housing and a decent burial.