In the summer of 1978 the World Cup
soccer tournament was held in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Much more than a
sporting event, at the World Cup every goal scored and tackle administered
carried the potential for violent repercussions. A missed header, a referee's
error—the slightest blunder of any kind could ignite a powder keg with bloody
aftershocks.
General Jorge Rafael Videla, who two
years earlier had led a military coup that toppled Argentinean president Isabel
Martinez de Perón, took no chances. He ordered some 5000 troops to stand watch
over stadiums and the training facilities of the 15 visiting teams. Fully aware
of the possibility of such a public-relations disaster, Videla spared little
expense to portray Argentina as a socially and politically stable country.
Stadiums were built. Telecommunication systems were installed. Potholes were
filled. In a country where the average monthly income was about $200, even
Videla's own treasury secretary called the expenditures unjustified.
As opening day approached in late May,
talk on the streets had turned from politics to soccer. Although this was the
fifth time Argentina had hosted the World Cup finals since the tournament began
in 1930, Argentina had never won the prized Jules Rimet Trophy or even appeared
in the final match. A home victory could do more for Argentina's morale than
Videla's propaganda efforts.
Argentina played well, suffering only
an early-round, one-goal loss to Italy and tying 0-0 with Brazil, the 1970 cup
champion. At the heart of Argentina's success was Mario Kempes, a highly
skilled, long-haired striker known in his home country as “The Matador.”
To reach the final match, Argentina
needed to defeat Peru by a margin of at least four goals. Otherwise, Brazil
would earn the right to play for the championship. Hundreds of Brazil's
supporters gathered at Buenos Aires's Rosario Airport and watched the
Argentina-Peru match-up on a tiny black-and-white television. Depending on the
outcome, they would either board the next flight home or stay on for the
championship game.
After 21 minutes, Argentina scored its
first goal with a mighty kick by Kempes. After another 22 minutes, fullback
Alberto Tarantini headed in the team's second goal. Kempes put Argentina up 3-0
a few minutes into the second half. Three more goals followed, including two by
Leopoldo Luque. With two goals to spare, Argentina was going to the World Cup
finals for the first time.
The win, which sent gleeful
Argentineans into the streets by the millions, was not without controversy.
Many observers accused Peru of intentionally going soft on Argentina. In Sports
Illustrated Brazil's coach, Claudio Coutinho, spoke bitterly of the
Peruvians, “I do not think that they will ever hear their national anthem at
the World Cup with pride again.” Peru's goalie, Ramón Quiroga—a native of
Argentina—explained his team's poor performance in an open letter that appeared
in a Buenos Aires newspaper. “We just rolled over,” he said.
Brazilian superstar Pelé revealed
greater sportsmanship. “Come, come, gentlemen,” he wrote in his syndicated
column. “We should not permit ourselves as Brazilians to sink so low as to put
up these smoke screens. We are lucky to be in contention for third or fourth.”
Kempes was unfazed by the sideshow.
“Had we needed 10 or 12 goals [against Peru], we would have made them,” he said
in Goooal: A Celebration of Soccer by Andrés Carson. “No one understands
that we weren't afraid of anything—that for us, nothing was impossible.”
Meanwhile, the Netherlands, also
contending for the championship, needed to tie with Italy in order to reach the
finals. The Italians netted the first goal, but the Dutch team responded with
two unanswered goals to earn the victory. In the consolation match Brazil
squeaked past Italy, 2-1, in what was the final high-profile appearance of
Brazilian star Roberto Rivelino, a three-time World Cup participant.
The championship match was held at RÃo
de la Plata stadium in Buenos Aires on Sunday, June 25. In a classic match-up,
a methodical, disciplined European team played against a spontaneous, mercurial
South American squad. According to Argentina's coach, Cesar Menotti, quoted in Sports
Illustrated, “The two bravest sides have come through.”
The 70,000 fans could barely contain
themselves. Before the opening whistle they unleashed a blizzard of confetti
that obscured the stands from view. Dutch sympathizers barely numbered in the
hundreds. “Every one of them will be needed,” deadpanned one Dutch sportswriter
to Sports Illustrated.
In a tense moment just before game
time, Argentinean captain Daniel Passarella trotted off the field to chat with
coach Menotti. The referee was aghast. Equally perturbed, the Dutch team headed
for its own bench. Nine minutes later Passarella returned. The squads exchanged
ceremonial pennants and the match was finally underway.
Kempes put Argentina on the scoreboard
for the first time 37 minutes into the proceedings on a play set up by Luque
and midfielder Osvaldo Ardiles. The Netherlands launched many attacks on
Argentina's goal in the second half but was turned away time and time again.
Then, with the minutes waning, Tarantini missed a tackle on forward Reinier Van
der Kerkhof, allowing him to center the ball to Dirk Nanninga. His header tied
the score at one apiece. The crowd collectively gasped a few minutes later when
Van der Kerkhof's twin brother, Willy, banged a shot off the crossbar of
Argentina's goal. The score remained tied when the final whistle blew.
Visibly weary, the two teams took the
field for two 15-minute overtime periods. Frustration and on-field roughness
increased. When a Dutch player decked winger Daniel Bertoni—and no foul was
called—tempers increased. Kempes broke the tension—and the tie—when he
retrieved his own missed shot and fired it past Dutch goalie Jan Jongbloed.
Then, in the second overtime period, a Kempes-to-Bertoni play gave Argentina a
virtually insurmountable two-goal lead. Flat-footed with fatigue, the
Netherlands all but conceded defeat. The game ended. The celebrations began.
For Argentina it was a big win. Yet,
the full force of the triumph did not immediately strike Kempes. “It all hit me
a month later,” he later recalled for Goooal: A Celebration of Soccer.
“It was then that I understood that we had paved the road for the birth of
Argentina soccer. All the victories that came after can be traced to that
title.” Despite all of General Videla's efforts to the contrary, Kempes kept
the achievement within the realm of sports. “There was a lot at stake, and the
mission was completed. I'm not talking about politics, because I've never been
interested in politics. I'm speaking only of soccer.”
