Sure, unless you’re Manchester City, Chelsea, Arsenal or Wigan Athletic, the chances of actually lifting the FA Cup are infinitesimal, but that doesn’t mean that, for at least two games a season, supporters can’t dream that this might finally be the year they make it to Wembley, before having their hearts broken by some lower league cloggers managed by Graham Westley on a wet afternoon in February.

One man who knows the true heartache of a cup defeat more than most is this week’s guest. Co-host of the peerless 90s Football podcast Quickly Kevin Will He Score? alongside Josh Widdicombe and Michael Marden, as well as a lifelong sufferer of West Ham United, we’re delighted to welcome Chris Scull to Losing My Favourite Game, as he looks back on a balmy night in Bedfordshire more than 25 years ago.

Luton Town 3-2 West Ham United
FA Cup Sixth Round Replay
23rd March 1994

“

Ever since I started supporting West Ham, I considered reaching the semi final of the FA Cup the absolute pinnacle of our sporting ambition. It’s perhaps the case for me, and indeed most West Ham supporters, that we’re burdened with a pragmatic realism that borders on utter pessimism.

I can honestly say that the people in my life that have the most visceral hatred of West Ham United are the very people who are the most committed West Ham fans, home and away, that I’ve ever met. Our very own club anthem, I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles, features the somewhat depressing line “and like my dreams, they fade and die”. Sometimes, I have to stop and remind myself that this refrain is sung to our heroes in an effort to cheer them on.

So I’d say that the West Ham supporter’s collective psyche rarely lets itself get carried away with such emotions as positivity and hope. We know we’re not going to win the cup every year; but for me, going to a showpiece semi-final day out would be an unparalleled footballing paradise. The pomp and ceremony. The excitement. The neutral venue.

Let’s roll the clock back a little. I would say that in 1994, at 11 years old, I was unshackled from the footballing pragmatic realism of today; running wild, with a claret and blue scarf, a home shirt with Martin Allen’s name on the back and the care-free exuberance which only youth can provide.

I had got my first season ticket in the 1992/93 season; a campaign which found The Hammers outside the top tier for the Premier League’s inaugural season. But as a consequence of dropping down, we, alongside Newcastle, were by far the biggest footballing fishes in the old-money First Division pond. And not only that, but we were whipping teams up and down the country almost every week. We had Julian Dicks marauding the wing and terrorising everyone in the process, Big Ludek Miklosko looked the best keeper in the division and tricky winger Mark Robson was flying past opposition defences like he was invisible.

If this was supporting West Ham, I was very much on-board. I’d say I’ve watched the VHS of that season review more than any other video. I’m confident I could still rattle off most of the commentary on it from memory. By the summer of 1993, we were back in the top flight along with Newcastle and Swindon. How hard could it be?

Things began with a ‘Classic West Ham’ trope as our star signing of the summer, striker Dale Gordon, scored our first Premier League goal, got crocked, then didn’t score another goal and left 3 years later after only making another 10 appearances. Meanwhile Dicks, on account of his chain-smoking, loose training and undisciplined nature, found himself sold to Liverpool where he finished the 93/94 season by scoring the last ever goal in front of the old Kop, before rejoining the Hammers a few months later.

But while the Irons slowly plodded through those autumn and winter months toward inevitable lower-mid table safety, something strange was happening. A fortuitous cup run was building.

I’ve always thought the key to a good cup run, for West Ham at least, is being consistently drawn against inferior opposition. I appreciate this isn’t a revelatory statement; but while there are some clubs who revel in a local derby, or a big team in the cup, nothing makes my heart sink lower. No, for West Ham succeed, we need to be regularly drawn against the kind of team who’ll turn up with their goalkeeper driving the coach.

Through January and February 1994, the stars started to align. We dispatched lower league Watford 2-1. Then pipped past lower league Notts County 1-0 in a replay, after drawing 1-1 in the first leg.

Then the surest sign yet that this season was destined for my coveted FA Cup semi final spot and the chance for glory: we drew non-league minnows Kidderminster Harriers in the fifth round. A team so lowly they didn’t even appear to have a real name. A team so bereft of quality, I had serious doubts about whether they’d be able to afford the requisite football to play the match.

In classic West Ham fashion, we made incredibly hard work of it, nicking a wholly unrepresentative 1-0 victory despite a series of scares and a commentator revelling in the classic cliche that “it wasn’t clear who the Premier League team was on this evidence”. Actually, looking back on this ‘run’ for this article. It’s clear to me that we were incredibly lucky on the draw. And incredibly rubbish in those games.

Nevertheless, we were in the draw. I’m sure it took place on a Sunday night, with 90s football icon Graham Kelly presiding over his famous black balls. I can honestly say that evening was the most excited I’ve ever been about a cup draw. It might be the only time I’d memorised all the draw numbers in advance. But there were only two numbers I was interested in; those of West Ham, and the crappest team left in the draw, Luton Town.

And then.. it happened. West Ham out first, Luton out second. We would be at home to the most clueless amateurs this side of Kidderminster. All that stood between me and my dream of a showpiece FA Cup semi final day out was a group of sporting hacks battling relegation a whole league below.

So to Upton Park. Get an early goal, squash their morale. Get another couple later on as the game stretches. Then worry about semi final tickets. That was the plan… but this is West Ham. And West Ham is what happens when you’re making other plans. We struggled. Neither side shone. Like two blindfolded men in an east London ditch, scrapping with unwieldy pugil sticks made of distinctly average footballer. Another game where the commentator couldn’t tell the supposed difference in class.

There was one moment though, and I think about it to this day, where our Liverpudlian midfielder Mike Marsh flicked a header which bounced beyond Luton’s diving keeper and onto the post, then out of play. It’s the sliding doors moment I’d obsess about the most; until a certain Steven Gerrard found the ball at his feet at an absurd distance in the dying moments of the 2006 FA Cup final.

If Mike Marsh scores that, my sporting heart wouldn’t have been broken until the Euro 96 semi final. If Mike Marsh scores that, my family would’ve had that day out at Wembley against Chelsea in the spring of ’94. If Mike Marsh scores that, I’m sat here writing an article about any number of West Ham misfortunes in the years that followed. But alas, it hit the post. Sliding doors. To Kenilworth Road.

Recalling it now feels like recalling a car crash or shock inducing trauma. The memories are burned into my psyche and framed with lightning. We went a goal up; my favourite player Martin Allen opening the scoring. But rather than accelerate ahead, Luton equalised with the feet of the son of Showaddywaddy’s guitarist Trevor; Scott Oakes. Then Oakes scored again, my throat tightened. I remember from this point on I watched the game on my knees in front of the telly.

Early in the second half Ian Bishop equalised for West Ham and dived into the claret and blue away end. But we know how this all ends. Of course we do. Steve Potts caught in possession on the halfway line. Scott Oakes intercepts and races away like he’s ice skating, while our back peddling defence looks like it’s running through 3 feet of water. Miklosko rushes out half-heartedly. Ball flies past him and in. Bedlam. And heartache.

Then the dying embers of the game. The first time I’d really experienced the utter desperation of football fandom. Watching time race away. The ball caught in midfield, no chance to get it forward. The referee reaching for his whistle. My head in my hands. The first time a game of football had made me cry.

I remember my Dad being aghast that football had brought me to tears; it was probably at that moment he realised I’d truly caught the bug. I would’ve gone to my bedroom that night, its walls covered in posters of my West Ham heroes. Heroes who’d let me down for the first time. To Luton Town. Luton bloody Town. Scott bloody Oakes. Show-bloody-waddywaddy.

You never forget the first time football broke your heart. Having witnessed two relegations since, I can honestly say nothing hurt more than that night. Defeats, like that game, steel you and make you hardier. And that’s how the West Ham dream-dying, pessimistic, pragmatic psyche has evolved; its easier mentally to live without hope, because you’re better prepared for when disaster does strike. Oh West Ham. Like my dreams, they fade and die.

Thanks to Chris for sharing those painful 90s memories. Series Five of the ‘Quickly Kevin Will He Score’ Podcast will be available on all podcast providers in November. For more information, or to catch up on previous shows, head to the Quickly Kevin website.

Taking her turn in the Chair of Despair this week is Jasmine Baba, editor for Betfair, freelance writer, and long-suffering Arsenal supporter. A child of the Wenger Era, Jasmine grew up on a diet of free-flowing football, incredible goals, and trophies galore. The good times, it seemed, would never end. In their final five years at Highbury, the Gunners lifted two Premier League titles, including their season as ‘The Invincibles’, and three FA Cups, as they prepared to head to their new home at Ashburton Grove. Unbeknownst to Arsenal’s supporters however, the penalty shootout victory over Manchester United in the 2005 FA Cup final would be the club’s last honour for nine years.

Reaching the Champions League final the following season, only to lose out against Barcelona in Paris, the nucleus of Arsene Wenger’s second double-winning side began to disband, as Dennis Bergkamp retired, Robert Pires and Thierry Henry packed their bags for Spain, and Ashley Cole and Freddie Ljungberg moved to opposite ends of London. In their stead, a fresh breed of exciting European youngsters were charged with restoring Arsenal to the top of English football, with Cesc Fabregas – already a stalwart of the side despite his tender years – Robin van Persie and Theo Walcott becoming integral to the first team. Seasons soon passed without a sniff of silverware. A League Cup final here, a Champions League semi there, but nothing to add to the FA Cup beginning to gather dust in the trophy cabinet.

By the 2012/13 season, Arsenal’s supporters were beginning to lose patience with their longstanding leader. With little to spend in the transfer market thanks to the move to the Emirates Stadium, Wenger had seemingly lost his knack of unearthing bargains from overseas and, since the departure of Jens Lehmann, a team formerly famed for their miserly defence had suffered instability at the back. Languishing outside the top four in the Premier League, and with a tricky tie against Bayern Munich to come, the FA Cup was looking the best bet for Arsenal to end their trophy drought.

Having limped past Swansea City in a third round replay before hurdling the banana skin of Brighton away in round four, the fifth round draw had thrown up a kinder tie for the Gunners, with Championship side Blackburn Rovers due to make the trip down to North London. What could go wrong? 

Arsenal 0-1 Blackburn Rovers
FA Cup Fifth Round
16th Feburary, 2013

“

Cast your mind back to 16th February 2013. The blistery cold of winter was still clinging onto dear life, without showing signs of spring. The Premier League season, and the summer before, had already been a long one.

At this time I was 21, working in retail, and was throwing myself more into the one thing I felt I really had. Football.

I had always been more into watching football matches as a child, mainly because of my three, much older, siblings who would make me watch and listen with them. I loved it. It was one of those aspects that you and your family had, a special bond that you all enjoy. It was within my blood.

I remember when I was in my early teens, boys would be surprised by someone with my knowledge, and my defiance as an Arsenal fan. I remember “bandwagon” Manchester United fans taking the mick – in a North West London school – just before the FA Cup final in 2005. Safe to say the Monday after I wore my Arsenal bag with pride.

Even in the latter parts of college, there were nights out where, sat on pub benches,  I’d go into a football-laced rant at peers and people I had just met, and they’d look shocked and say, “you really know your stuff!”

Now, that date I mentioned at the start of this piece might be insignificant to you, and probably to many Gooners too, but it was important to me. As I said I was throwing myself more into my love and that year I was earning enough to get myself to more matches and bought an Arsenal red membership. A milestone.

We were playing three games in seven days, in three different competitions. For some reason, in the second half of a season where we’d lost our best player to a rival team (that was Robin Van Persie to Manchester United, they went onto win the league), and where we’d already lost six games in the Premier League, leaving us fifth, four points off our bitter rivals Tottenham, I thought to buy tickets for each one of these home games at the Emirates.

The 16th February 2013 was the first of those. An FA Cup fifth round clash against Championship outfit Blackburn Rovers, a more than winnable game. The tickets were cheaper, so we made a family day out of it, consisting of my siblings and one of my closest cousins. The next two games that followed was a Champions League round of 16 fixture against Bayern Munich, and then to round it off, a home game against Aston Villa. Tickets were harder to come by and more expensive for the other two, and FA Cup matches are always fun. Our minds were decided, we were all going to go to Arsenal v Blackburn.

The day started with optimism. Arsene Wenger had never lost to lower league opposition in the FA Cup before, a record spanning 17 years. We hadn’t exactly looked good in December but the new year-round of fixtures, apart from a little wobble away at Chelsea made us look like we were coming back into form. We were already 21 points off Manchester United at the top of the Premier League table and we were playing for top four, but we still could win the FA Cup, and we were still in the Champions League. Blackburn were nothing to fear.

We got to the stadium and found our seats, we were four rows from the goal, if any goals came in our side, we’d be in shot. Lovely scenes.

Except, they never did.

Pre-match optimism had been eroded by the a typical Arsenal performance; we looked on top, had most of the possession, all the chances, yet nothing came. As fans it was nothing we weren’t used to, but it was a strong line up against a Championship team. The atmosphere became tense. How many times had the Gunners been dominant only to lose pathetically? Many. It’s just that I had never seen it happen in front of my own eyes before.

Tomas Rosicky showed flashes of brilliance, but any balls threaded through the Blackburn defence were greeted by Gervinho, and one football memory that will always be burnt onto my brain is him missing what was essentially an open goal by four yards. Just metres away from me. Funnily enough it wasn’t the first time that season he’d done it; in December we crashed of the League Cup to Bradford and he’d missed a similar chance.

The deadlock was broken in the 72nd minute by Colin Kazim-Richards. You could hear a pin drop in the Gunners end (no jokes please), and a jubilant Rovers crowd overtook North London. You didn’t watch the last 18 minutes. We had already seen this film, read this story, been here, done it and got the t-shirt. Full-time was almost a relief.

“Well we still have the Champions League,” – I’m not sure I felt that at full-time. Going from a loss against a lower league team up against one of the best teams in the world didn’t have me exactly excited for the next few days. My worries weren’t for nothing, as we lost 3-1 at home to Bayern, which all but sealed our exit from the Champions League. Yet again, for an eighth season we’d be empty-handed.

However as down as I was that day, it was all made up next season; we sold Gervinho (who managed to only muster nine goals in 46 apps) and we won the FA Cup. Our first bit of silverware for nine years.

That defeat, along with the success after, taught me that football is a funny old game indeed.

Thanks to Jasmine for sharing her memories of Arsenal’s dismal defeat to Blackburn from 2013. You can follow Jasmine on Twitter, and find examples of her work at That Baba Girl, alongside her weekly Major League Baseball column. 

These days its rare that an FA Cup final doesn’t feature at least one of the Premier League’s ‘Big Six’ teams. In fact, besides Portsmouth’s victory over Cardiff City in 2008, you’d have to go back to 1984 and Everton’s win over Elton John and Watford to find a cup final that didn’t feature any of Manchester United, Manchester City, Chelsea, Arsenal, Liverpool or Tottenham Hotspur. Of course the so-called ‘Big Six’ is a relatively recent construct, and Chelsea’s win over Middlesbrough in 1997 was only the beginning of their steady rise to English football’s top table, but it would certainly raise a few eyebrows to see the teams that finished 13th and 15th in the top flight meet in the showpiece of the world’s oldest cup competition.

That Manchester United and Crystal Palace had reached the final was remarkable in itself. United, struggling badly since the sacking of Ron Atkinson, had only got as far as the quarter-finals of the FA Cup in four seasons under new manager Alex Ferguson, while their league form had largely been underwhelming. A second-placed finish in 1988 was the outlier in half a decade of underachievement and, as the story goes, the Scot was under mounting pressure to turn the tide at Old Trafford. A miserable Christmas period had seen United fail to win in eight games, including a home loss to newly promoted Palace, as the Red Devils plummeted down the league table. Their next match, the FA Cup Third Round tie at Nottingham Forest, was make or break, with whispers in the corridors of power suggesting a defeat would see Ferguson sacked. Mark Robins struck the only goal of the game to secure victory for the visitors at the City Ground, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Except that doesn’t quite tell the whole story of how desperate Manchester United remained for the rest of the season. The winless run continued into Februray, until a late Mark Hughes goal secured a 2-1 win at Millwall and dragged Ferguson’s side away from the relegation zone. They would continue to hover there until a four game winning streak in April secured top flight safety. Finishing 13th flattered them. The FA Cup proved a welcome distraction however, with consecutive draws away from home shielding the team from the fury of Old Trafford. After Forest had been sidestepped, United were rewarded with trips to Hereford United, Newcastle United, and Sheffield United, before an epic semi-final against Oldham Athletic was decided in a replay at Maine Road, Mark Robins again proving the hero. Despite their wretched league form, they were tipped to lift the cup.

Crystal Palace, on the other hand, were riding high, in spite of finishing two places below the Reds. Having spend most of the 1980s perpetually plodding in Division Two, Steve Coppell had chanced upon the potent strike force of Mark Bright and Ian Wright, whose goals fired the Eagles into the top flight via the playoffs in 1989. What started out as a dream return quickly turned into a nightmare by the fourth game of the season, as Palace were humbled at Anfield. On a balmy Tuesday night by the Mersey, Perry Suckling watched helplessly as Liverpool scored nine past him without reply. It marked Palace’s biggest ever league defeat, and led to a serious inquest in the dressing room. Shortly afterwards, Steve Coppell made Bristol Rovers’Nigel Martyn the first £1m goalkeeper in English football.

Palace’s form would soon improve, and a kind run in the FA Cup saw them head deep into the competition without breaking too much sweat. Portsmouth, Huddersfield Town and Rochdale were all dispatched at Selhurst Park, before Cambridge United – the lowest ranked team left in the competition – had their cup run ended by Geoff Thomas at the Abbey Stadium. The semi-final draw would not prove so benevolent, and Liverpool would stand in the way of the Eagles’ first appearance in an FA Cup Final.

Revenge is a dish best served with a side of heart palpitations. On a sun-kissed afternoon in Birmingham, Crystal Palace and Liverpool served up one of the greatest FA Cup ties in the competition’s history. Pulsating from start to finish and packed with more drama that an Eastenders Christmas Special, even Kenny Dalglish kept his coat on in the blistering heat lest he miss a second of the action. Ian Rush’s goal after fourteen minutes had the travelling Palace fans wary of a repeat of that Anfield nightmare, but Bright’s equaliser just after the break set the tie up nicely for the remainder of the second half. Gary O’Reilley’s goal twenty minutes from time gave brief hope that the underdogs could clinch a famous victory, before those hopes were extinguished quickly by Steve McMahon and a John Barnes penalty. At 3-2 with seven minutes to go, Coppell could at least console himself with the effort his players had put into the match. But two minutes from time a melee in the Liverpool penalty area saw Andy Gray outjump four defenders on the line to nod home a dramatic equaliser. In extra time, at the Holte End of Villa Park, it was Alan Pardew that rose highest to power Gray’s corner beyond Bruce Grobbelaar and finally floor Liverpool for good.

Ian Wright

FA Cup Final

The Players: Gre-No-Li

If a footballing nation is lucky it’ll produce one extraordinary talent in every generation. Zlatan Ibrahimovic picked up the baton from Henrik Larsson, who took on the mantle from Kennet Andersson. There’s currently little sign of John Guidetti carrying the torch any further. Improbably, in the post-war years and throughout the 1950s, Sweden could boast three. Born almost exactly a year apart, Gunnar Gren (31st October 1920), Gunnar Nordhal (19th October 1921) and Nils Liedholm (8th October 1922) transformed not only the face of Swedish football, but the fortunes of one of Italy’s most famous clubs, sealing their place as football’s most unique trio.

Gren was the trickiest of the three, earning fame in the local Gothenburg newspaper at the age of thirteen by winning a ball-juggling contest. Had this happened eighty-five years later, it might have been the beginning of a lucrative career as a “football freestyler”, but as it was the youngster was given the choice of joining the circus or honing his all round game. Opting for the latter, he went on to join local side Gårda BK, impressing in his three seasons at the Överåsvallen and earning his first cap for the national side in a 3-2 win over Finland in 1940. By the following year, his reputation had soared enough to convince IFK Gothenburg to recruit his services, and he would go on to repay their faith by firing them to the national championship in his first season. Any hopes of the Blåvitt dominating the domestic league were quickly extinguished when IFK Norrköping emerged as the strongest side in Sweden, winning five of the next six championships thanks largely to a pair of exciting young strikers.

Nordhal was the most natural goalscorer of the Swedish triumvirate, and had made his name in the amateur leagues at Hörnefors IF with a remarkable record of 1.66 goals a game over three years. At Degerfors IF, the young forward plundered another fifty-six goals in four seasons, before earning his move to Norrköping and quickly becoming the most devastating striker in Swedish football. Ninety-three goals in ninety-five appearances helped the VitaBlå to four league titles, and from 1946 he was aided and abetted by playmaker Liedholm.

Blessed with vision, elegance and an immaculate passing range, Nils Liedholm joined Norrköping from neighbours IK Sleipner and promptly won back-to-back league titles, along with a debut call-up to the Swedish national team. By the time the 1948 Olympics had arrived in Great Britain, all three players were regulars for the Blågult. 

Though Italy and Great Britain began the tournament among the favourites, the Swedes set out their stall in the first round of the Olympic Football tournament, beating a good Austria side 3-0 at White Hart Lane, with Nordahl helping himself to two goals in the opening ten minutes. In the quarter-final of an unbalanced competition, South Korea were put to the sword at Selhurst Park. Four goals for Nordahl and another three shared between Gren and Liedholm saw Sweden record an emphatic 12-0 victory, and stake their claim for gold at the tournament. With neighbours Denmark brushed aside in the semi-final, it was left to Gren (twice) and Nordahl to see off Yugoslavia in the final, and put Sweden at the top of the podium.

Predictably the trio’s performances in the Olympics aroused interest from abroad, and Gunnar Nordahl was the first to be tempted away by AC Milan, joining the Rossoneri in January 1949. The move promised fame and fortune, but also brought an end to his international career, with professional players prohibited from representing Sweden. He would finish with a jaw-dropping 43 goals in 33 games, though the best years of his career were ahead of him. On the insistence of Nordahl, who had hit the ground running in his first few months in Milan, the Italian side signed up Gren and Liedholm, and the three Swedes quickly earned the nickname Gre-No-Li, a tribute to the on-field connection they shared.

Within two seasons of securing their Scandinavian imports, Milan were lifting their first Scudetto for more than forty years, and would go on to win three more league titles during the 1950s. Though Gren departed in 1953 for Fiorentina and a season with Genoa before returning to Sweden towards the end of the decade, Nordahl and Liedholm would give the best years of their careers to the club, and write their name into AC Milan history. Affectionalely nickamed il pompiere (the fireman), Nordahl would spend his time in red and black setting incredible goalscoring records, becoming the first (and so far only) player to win the Capocannoniere award for Serie A’s top goalscorer five times, and firing his way to the top of Milan’s goalscoring charts. His record for most goals in a season stood for sixty-five years before Napoli’s Gonzalo Higuain surpassed it in 2016. Though he spent the final two seasons of his career at Roma, Nordahl is still considered one of the greatest strikers Milan has ever seen.

Liedholm, the so-called ‘Professor’ would continue his association with the club long after hanging up his boots. Widely considered the provider of ammunition for Nordahl, Liedholm’s passing accuracy was second-to-none, allegedly going two years from joining the club  before misplacing his first pass, an act which drew a standing ovation from the crowd. Playing on til the age of 40, Liedholm took a place on the coaching staff at Milan, before being given the manager’s job in 1963. Initially unsuccessful, the Swede would learn his craft in the lower leagues of Italy with Verona, Monza and Varese, before returning to Milan in 1977 and ending the club’s ten year wait for a Scudetto in 1978. He would also go on to win a league title with Roma in the 1980s.

For Liedholm and Gren, there would also be an international swansong. With Sweden awarded the hosting rights for the 1958 World Cup, the football association were quick to avert the chances of a national embarrassment by relaxing the rules around professionalism and inviting two of their most famous exports back into the fold. Though both reaching the ends of their careers, Gren and Liedholm played their part in taking Sweden to the final, the former scoring a vital goal against West Germany in the semi-final, while the latter would open the scoring against Brazil in the final, only to watch on as a teenage Pele inspired the South Americans to victory. Though denied a storybook ending, their contribution to the world of football could not be understated. For Milan, and for Sweden, three was the magic number.

The Game: Sweden 2-1 England, 1992

Sadly the legacy of Gre-No-Li wouldn’t spur Sweden on to become regulars at the latter stages of international tournaments, failing to qualify for either World Cup in the 1960s, before embarking on a 24 year run in which the second group stage in 1974 would be their sole achievement. Not even the introduction of a secondary tournament, Henri Delauney’s brainchild the European Championships, could aid their ambitions, as they failed to qualify for the first eight editions. In 1988 however, a Euros berth was bestowed upon them, as the nation was chosen over Spain – who had already been awarded the Summer Olympics – to host the 1992 edition of the competition. An abysmal showing at Italia ’90, where they lost all three group games and finished below even Scotland, raised fears that there would be no repetition of the 1958 heroics. An overhaul was needed.

In came manager Tommy Svensson, who’d earned his stripes in the Swedish Allsvenskan by leading Östers to three championship titles in four seasons between 1978 and 1981, before a spell with Tromsø in Norway. Svensson’s immediate concern was freshening up his squad, making young strikers Kennet Andersson and Martin Dahlin the focal point of his attack, and bringing in up-and-coming defenders Patrik Andersson and Joachim Bjorklund, who also happened to be the new manager’s nephew. Where previously Sweden had relied on a more defensive and pragmatic style of play, Svensson encouraged his team to try a more fluid passing approach, with forwards dropping deep to link with the midfield while still using the physical advantage to nick goals from set pieces.

In his first few months in charge, Svensson oversaw some impressive performances, including a 6-0 demolition of Austria, and back-to-back victories over neighbours Denmark and Norway. Though they were hardly tipped to pull up any trees come the tournament, three wins on the spin in the lead up to Euro 92 did at least offer the home support some encouragement. There was also the added excitement of the new golden boy of Swedish football, who’d been catapulted into the limelight thanks to some impressive displays in Serie A. Tomas Brolin was singled out as Sweden’s danger man.

Brolin had announced himself to the world in Italy two years earlier, scoring against Brazil at just twenty years of age. His perfomances in the World Cup encouraged Parma to shell out £1.2m to secure his signature from Norrköping, and the young Swede immediately developed an effective partnership with Alessandro Melli at the Il Tardini, combining with the Italian to fire Parma into the UEFA Cup in his first season. Initially used as a striker with the national team, Svensson saw the potential of Brolin in a deeper role, allowing him to feed off second balls as well as set the tempo of the play. Winning his first piece of silverware in the 1992 Coppa Italia final, Brolin arrived at the tournament with the national team’s hopes on his shoulders. He wouldn’t disappoint.

Drawn in a group with a transitional France side, last-minute invitees Denmark and England, Sweden started the tournament tentatively. A first-half Jan Eriksson goal in the opening game against Michel Platini’s France was cancelled out by Jean-Pierre Papin’s equaliser, but a slice of Brolin magic against the Danes put Svensson’s team in the driving seat. If they could avoid defeat against England, they’d be into the semi-finals.

Off the back of Italia 90, England should have made their way to Sweden with hopes of bringing home the trophy, but while manager Graham Taylor had started his reign with a twelve game unbeaten run, it had taken a last-gasp Gary Lineker goal to seal the Three Lions’ place at the tournament, and a pair of wretched goalless draws meant that Taylor would have to go for the jugular against the hosts. Without the mercurial talent of Paul Gascoigne to call on, and a rag-tag squad that lacked sparkle, the Swedes would have fancied their chances heading into the game.

They got off to the worst possible start. Neil Webb’s long ball forwards was flicked on by David Batty, and Lineker’s cross was met by a mis-hit volley from David Platt to give England a fourth minute lead. Half-time news of Denmark’s lead over France soothed Swedish fears of elimination, but Svensson’s second half gameplan smacked of guarding against complacency. Six minutes after the break the Swedes earned a corner, which Eriksson met with another towering header to level the scores. The goal at once deflated England and injected new life into the hosts, and from then there only looked like one winner.

With their hopes of progression flagging, Taylor went for the nuclear option, replacing Gary Lineker in what would be his final appearance for England, and bringing on the aerial threat of Arsenal’s Alan Smith. The change made little difference, as Sweden continued to teem towards Chris Woods’ goal. The decisive strike took its time to arrive, but when it did, it was worth the wait. Picking up the ball halfway inside England’s half, Brolin began to drive towards goal, laying off to Klas Ingesson before picking up the return, as the white shirts in his path parted. Another slick one-two with Dahlin on the edge of the box gave the Parma player a clear sight of goal, while Barry Davies did his best Dolly Parton impression on the BBC.

“Brolin…Dahlin…Brolin! BROLIN! BRILLIANT!”

As deft as you like, with the outside of his right foot, Brolin flicked his effort into the top corner before racing off in celebration and basking in the exultation of the Råsunda Stadium. Sweden’s supporters saluted their new hero, and England were vanquished. They would return home to headlines of ‘Swedes 2 Turnips 1’, while their conquerors would welcome Germany on the same ground five days later.

That victory over England would prove to be the apex of the tournament for Svensson’s men, as world champions Germany overpowered them in the semi-finals. Brolin would add another goal to his tally with a penalty, seeing him finishing as joint top scorer, but it wouldn’t be enough to see Sweden through to the final. All things considered, it had been a successful summer.

Euro 92 would prove to be Brolin’s pinnacle too. Slowly falling out of favour at Parma, an ill-fated move to Leeds United would prove the beginning of the end for the increasingly erratic playmaker. Three goals at the 1994 World Cup helped his nation to third place at the tournament, but within a year he had played his last game for the national team. He retired at 28. Though often cited as a cautionary tale of wasted talent, Brolin’s name will last forever in Swedish football history thanks to that balmy night in Solna.

It’s was on a dreary day at Wembley just over thirty-nine years ago that Wolverhampton Wanderers last lifted a major trophy in English football. Like Andy Gray, the winning goalscorer against Nottingham Forest in that League Cup final, most of the Old Gold supporters that witnessed that victory are likely to either be emerging from a mid-life crisis, or will have motorbikes rusting in the garage and distant memories of extra-marital affairs. In the near four decades since the European Cup holders were edged out under the Twin Towers, Wolves fans have had little to shout about.

For those of a certain vintage, the golden period at Molineux came in the late-seventies. A period of near-dominance in the 1950s had disappeared with black and white television, but after two decades of flitting between mid-table mediocrity and relegation candidates John Barnwell’s side, spearheaded by the exciting Scottish striker Gray and captained by former Liverpool legend Emlyn Hughes, looked to be bringing the good times back to the Black Country.

It proved a false dawn. By 1986, Wolves had suffered back-to-back-to-back relegations, and found themselves in Division Four. Thanks to the emergence of Steve Bull, who would go on to smash goalscoring records at the club, the Old Gold were back in the second tier by the start of the 90s, but it would take a further fourteen years before their first taste of the Premier League. Even then it was brief, relegated at the first attempt in 2004, and manfully battling against relegation for two seasons before succumbing in 2012. For any Wolverhampton Wanderers fan under the age of thirty, there’s been a dearth of major success.

That all looks set to change, however. Though the tenure of Fosun International, who secured their takeover of the club from Steve Morgan with a £45m in 2016, hardly got off to the ideal start, their contacts and ambition are now paying dividends, and Molineux has quickly become one of the most exciting grounds to visit in the country. Replacing the safe-and-steady Kenny Jackett with the eccentric Walter Zenga upon their arrival was a big gamble that didn’t pay off, with the club lingering outside the bottom three by the time Chairman Jeff Shi took action in October 2016 and replaced the former Italian international with Paul Lambert. While the dour Scot was able to steer the club away from the relegation zone, it quickly became clear to the new owners that he was not the man to take Wolves to the next level. At the end of the 2016/17 season, Lambert was jettisoned in favour of FC Porto manager Nuno Espirito Santo, in what was becoming a Portuguese revolution in the West Midlands.

Armed with a sizeable transfer budget and aided by superagent Jorge Mendes, Nuno set to work transforming Wolves from a plodding midtable Championship side to runaway winners of the second division. The £15.8m acquisition of Ruben Neves, touted as a future star for the Portugal national team, added guile and class to the midfield, while the loan signings of Diogo Jota and Leo Bonatini gave the side a cutting edge, scoring 29 of Wolves’ 82 goals in the Championship, as the side secured the league title a full nine points ahead of second-place Cardiff City.

Tipped not only to survive but thrive in the top flight, Wolves have exceeded even the most optimistic of fan expectations. After some shrewd business in the transfer market, including the staggering acquisitions of European Championship winners Rui Patricio and Joao Moutinho for a combined £5m, tentative steps were taken in the Old Gold’s opening two games, before a creditable draw against Champions Manchester City kicked started the promoted side’s season. Though a six game winless run at the end of Autumn saw Nuno’s side drop into the bottom half of the table, Wolves have bounced back and are well on course for their highest league finish since that 1979/80 season.

For many, the key to Wolves’ success has been the club’s relationship with Mendes. Fosun International’s association with the Portuguese superagent began shortly before their takeover of the club, with subsidiaries of the company purchasing shares in Mendes’ Gestifute Talent Agency. Jeff Shi and his colleagues soon took advantage of their new business partner’s contacts, bringing Helder Costa, Ivan Cavaliero and full-back Silvio to the club from the more glamorous climes of Benfica, Monaco and Atletico Madrid. That Nuno himself was convinced to swap one of Europe’s heavyweights in Porto for a side in the English second division perhaps says more about Mendes’ powers of negotiation than the pull of Wolverhampton, while the pair undoubtedly worked together to bring Neves and Jota to the West Midlands. With Rui Patricio and Moutinho bringing the total number of Mendes’ clients on the books at Molineux up to seven, and the superagent allegedly being heavily involved in the loan signing of top scorer Raul Jiminez, his influence on recruitment at Wolves shows no sign of abating. With players as special as those he’s helped bring to Wolves, you’d struggle to find a supporter that would want it to.

But to overstate Mendes’ influence is to denigrate the incredible job Nuno has done since arriving at the club, along with the vast improvements made by the players he inherited. Preferring a fluid 3-2-3-2 that’s strength is in quick turnovers and counter-attacking, the Portuguese coach has earned a reputation for loyalty to his players, beginning the Premier League season by naming the same starting XI nine times on the spin. Given Nuno’s loyalty to his first choice XI, its unsurprising to see that Wolves rank 20th for players used in the Premier League this season, with a squad of just nineteen taking part in the top flight. For the manager, a smaller squad is the key to bigger achievements, “If it’s the same players, over and over again, training together, passing the ball to each other, timing their runs, all these small details that can help so a deep knowledge of your teammates it really helps with the tasks he has to do.”

Though flecked with the stardust of Neves, Moutinho and Jiminez, Wolves fans have perhaps been most impressed by the manner in which the defensive unit in particular has taken to the top flight. Jonny Castro Otto, the flying left wing-back, has been one of the underrated signings of the season, while Willy Boly’s no-nonsense approach to defending has translated from the more physical Championship to the supposedly artful Premier League.

It’s the trio of Matt Doherty, Conor Coady and Ryan Bennett that have progressed the most under Nuno’s tutelage, however. Irish wing-back Doherty has been with the club since signing as an 18 year old in 2010, and had carved out a niche under Jackett as a no-frills full-back. Steadily he’s become more integral to Wolves’ attack, and his return of six goals and four assists in all competitions this season has elevated him to a key member of the squad. In the FA Cup alone, Doherty ranks as one of the most creative players in this season’s competition, creating eleven chances in five games.  Coady, meanwhile, arrived from Huddersfield Town in 2014 to little fanfare, but has cemented his place in Nuno’s back-three with a string of accomplished performances. Ranked sixth in this season’s FA Cup for completed passes with 245, the Liverpool-born centre-back has become a bedrock of Wolves’ defence, provoking Molineux regulars to call for an inclusion in Gareth Southgate’s squad. Alongside Coady and Boly, former Norwich City stopper Bennett is left to sweep up, and has proven himself a solid purchase behind the glitz and glamour of Mendes’ musketeers.

While fostering togetherness and improving players are at the forefront of Nuno’s success however, a little slice of luck along the way is always gratefully received, and in their run to the FA Cup semi-finals, it’s difficult to dispute that Wolves have received that. Though a tie against title-chasing Liverpool was hardly the easiest of draws in the Third Round, the Old Gold might have struggled to have found a better time to play Jurgen Klopp’s team. Focussed on matters in both the league and Europe, a weakened side arrived at Molineux and were promptly rolled over by the hungrier team.

In round four, it took a rousing comeback and a 93rd minute Doherty equaliser to prevent Nuno’s side becoming one of the many top flight teams dumped out in the early stages by a team from a lower division, as struggling Shrewsbury Town were denied an upset. The replay was hardly a comfortable affair either, as Doherty again came to the rescue, levelling up the scores at 2-2 in first-half stoppage time, before Salop finally succumbed to Cavaliero’s winner.

At Bristol City in round five, a lack of VAR at Ashton Gate meant that Doherty escaped conceding a penalty with a blatant handball in the area, before Cavaliero again settled the tie. All that being said, Wolves were electric in their quarter-final meeting with Manchester United, putting Ole Gunnar Solskjaer’s side to the sword with late goals from Jiminez and Jota.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to see Wolves go toe-to-toe with a confident United side, having taken ten points from nine games against the top six sides in the Premier League so far this season. A willingness to go for the jugular against so-called superior opposition has held Nuno’s side in good stead, and has provided the manager with something to hang his hat on during his first campaign in England’s top flight. It also provides supporters with hope that, should they meet Manchester City in the final, the result is far from a forgone conclusion.

First though, they’ll have to get past a Watford side themselves enjoying a vintage campaign. Javi Gracia has built a team as dangerous going forwards as it is compact at the back, and when the two met at Molineux back in October it was the Spaniard that took home the spoils, setting up his side to withstand the Wolves attack and relying on the pace and trickery of Robero Pereyra and Gerard Deulofeu on the counter. It’ll be down to that core backline to ensure there’s no sting in the tail of the Hornets on Sunday.

The Player: Dudu Georgescu

Nicolae Ceaușescu’s rise to power in 1965 looked to signal the end of a destructive and oppressive Soviet regime in Romania. The post-war occupation by the Red Army saw governmental elections fraudulently won, the country’s natural resources drained, and dissenters of the establishment either deported or sent to labour camps. In the first few years of his premiership, Ceaușescu wrestled Romania’s independence from the USSR, openly condemning the invasion of Czechoslovakia and restoring an element of freedom to the press, a liberty withdrawn under the previous government. This period of relative peace and prosperity would be shortlived however, as Ceaușescu turned Romania into a totalitarian state, using the secret police to conduct mass surveillance and manipulating the national media to further his cause. Drunk on power, he would grasp at every opportunity to bring glory to his version of Romania.

By the time Ceaușescu took office Dudu Georgescu had already been exhibiting his precocious talent with the Progresul Bucureșt youth team. Signed up by his brother at the age of thirteen, the imposing teenager would make his debut for the Bancarii in 1969, before playing a key role in the club’s promotion back to Divizia A the following year with fifteen goals. Georgescu’s impressive performances alerted fellow strugglers CSM Resita, and half a season with the Reșițenii brought another impressive return of seven goals from twelve games, including two in a 4-1 win against champions-elect Dinamo București, which was enough to convince them to pay for his services.

Or rather, pluck him from Resita’s helpless grasp. During the 70s and 80s it was not uncommon for Dinamo or Steaua – Romania’s other powerhouse club – to poach players from smaller teams without so much as offering a transfer fee. Given that it made sense for the best teams to have the best players available when it came to competing with other nations in European competition, it was not in the government’s interest to sanction such pickpocketing. In the event, the move proved to be a catalyst for the finest spell of Georgescu’s career. Twenty-one goals in his first season on Ştefan cel Mare Street wasn’t enough to see Dinamo record back-to-back title wins, but the following year the striker plundered thirty-three in thirty-one appearances, lifting his first league trophy along with the European Golden Shoe.

The brainchild of French sports paper L’Équipe, the European Golden Show had first been awarded in 1968 to Benfica’s Eusebio. Subsequent seasons saw strikers from Bulgaria to Belgrade pick up the award, with Gerd Muller winning it twice thanks to his exploits with Bayern Munich. It was no surprise that Georgescu had earned the award. At six foot he was a powerhouse in the air, but equally adept at firing a rocket into the top corner from long range. By the time of his first championship he had already gained international recognition, and would go on to score twenty-one times in forty games for Romania. The goalscoring success of a native footballer also raised the profile of the game in Romania, something which had not escaped the notice of now-President Ceaușescu, whose reign was becoming increasingly damaging to the country.

The following season Georgescu could *only* manage a total of thirty-one goals in thirty-two games as Steaua pipped Dinamo to the title; enough to earn him the second of four consecutive top scorer awards in Divizia A, along with the accolade of Romanian Footballer of the Year, but edged out by Cypriot Sotiris Kaiafas in the Golden Shoe stakes. Ceaușescu would ensure its return soon enough. In 76/77, Dinamo’s star man struck a staggering forty-seven league goals, over half of his team’s total for the season. It has long been theorised that, as part of his thirst to retain an outward image of success to the rest of Europe, the Romanian president had played a part in some of the champions’ results throughout the season. Victories over Sportul Studenţesc (7-1), and Resita (5-0) were atypical of a relatively tight league, and the fact that Georgescu had helped himself to a glut of goals in both raised suspicions. Either way, that 47 goal haul remained the highest return for a Golden Shoe winner until Lionel Messi’s half century in 2011/12.

That remarkable season would prove the apex of Georgescu’s career, as the man nicknamed ‘Fenomenul’ began to drift past his peak. Another twenty-four goals in the following season was the bright spot in a disappointing campaign for Dinamo, and though he would stay with the Red Dogs for a further five years and win two more championships, diminishing returns saw him score just fifty-one more times in red and white.  Spells with Bacau, Gloria Buzău, Flame Moreni, Muscelul Campulung and Urziceni Union followed, before Georgescu hung up his boots in 1988.

A year later, Ceaușescu was dead. A revolt against the government in Timisoara resulted in armed forces firing in the protesting crowd and killing civilians. In a bid to calm national fervour, the president held a meeting to denounce the Timisoara protests as ‘fascist agitators’ bent on ‘destroying socialism’. Ceaușescu’s comments only served to anger those gathered, and with the mood beginning to turn, the president and his wife fled for cover. Now established as the targets for a military coup, the pair escaped Bucharest, but were eventually captured by police near Târgoviște and handed over to the Romanian army. On Christmas Day 1989, both Ceaușescu and his wife were executed.

The European Golden shoe would be won one more time by a Romanian, Dinamo’s Dorin Mateuț, before L’equipe decided to disband the award in 1991 following disputes over the winner. In 1996 it was revived by the European Sports Media, with Barcelona’s Brazilian striker Ronaldo its first recipient. Who better to follow ‘Fenomenul’ than ‘O Fenômeno’?

The Game: Romania 3-2 Argentina, 1994

Romania’s route to the 1994 World Cup in the United States had already packed in more drama than the Calista Flockhart vehicle Brothers & Sisters before the Tricolores had even arrived in California. Head coach Anghel Iordănescu had seen his side take control of a tricky looking group with some dominant performances, before a defeat to the Republic of Czechs and Slovaks had left their qualification hopes hanging in the balance. On a tense night at Cardiff Arms Park, Romania knew that defeat would deny them a place at the tournament, and send opponents Wales through. They were halfway there at the break, courtesy of Gheorghe Hagi’s speculative effort sneaking under the usually reliable Neville Southall, but after Dean Saunders had equalised, a soft penalty was awarded for Dan Petrescu’s foul on Gary Speed, and Wales were gifted the chance to put one foot on a transatlantic flight. Paul Bodin, so often dependable from the spot at Swindon Town, blasted the kick against the crossbar, handing the initiative back to the visitors. With the Welsh pushing forward for a winner, Romania broke forward and Florin Răducioiu sealed their qualification.

It was only Romania’s third appearance at the World Cup in the post-war era, having been dumped out by Wales’ neighbours Ireland on penalties four years earlier, and barely making an impression at Mexico in 1970. On that occasion they’d been drawn in a group with holders England and favourites Brazil, but while the draw was somewhat kinder in the States, there was still no guarantee of reaching the knockouts. Drawn in Group A, Iordănescu’s team would have to overcome the host nation, who were slowly developing into a useful international side, as well as dark horses Switzerland. The biggest test, though, would come in their opening game, against a Colombia team tipped by Pele to win the tournament. With Faustino Asprilla and Carlos Valderrama at their flamboyant best, La Tricolor had posted the most impressive performance in qualifying, by demolishing Argentina on their own patch.

At this World Cup, however, Romania paid no heed to reputations. Răducioiu and Hagi ran riot on a blistering Californian day, as the Europeans ran out 3-1 winners. Any suggestions that they’d breeze through the group were quickly dispelled against Roy Hodgson’s Switzerland however, as three second-half goals gave The Big Plus a 4-1 victory, and left Romania needing a win in their meeting with the USA to guarantee a place in the second round. In the event, Petrescu’s eighteenth minute goal was enough to see them through.

Despite winning their group Romania were handed a tough test in the second round, with Argentina finishing third on goal difference behind Nigeria and Bulgaria. A topsy-tuvey Group D had seen the Hristo Stoitchkov-inspired Bulgarians knock Argentina off top spot in the final game, but it wasn’t the biggest loss La Albiceleste had suffered in the tournament. Having scored a spectacular goal and performing the now infamous celebration against Greece, Diego Maradona was called in for a random drugs test following the win over Nigeria, eventually testing positive for ephedrine and being thrown out of the tournament. Though in the twilight of his career, Maradona’s presence in the squad had been vital, and his teammates had mourned his removal. While Argentina were without Maradona, Romania had the ‘Maradona of the Carpathians’ in Hagi.

Even so, La Albiceleste remained one of the favourites for the tournament, and were expected to overcome a Romania side that had never reached a World Cup quarter-final. With a forward line consisting of Fiorentina’s fearsome Gabriel Batistuta, Roma’s Abel Balbo, and the so-called ‘New Maradona’ Ariel Ortega, it looked unlikely that a side who’d conceded four against Switzerland would keep the two-time world champions in check.

But eleven minutes in, the shock was on. Lining up a free-kick on the left-hand side of the penalty area, Steaua Bucharest’s Ilie Dumitrescu took a leaf from the Hagi playbook and whipped an effort up into the far corner of the net, fooling the entire Argentina defence, and leaving Luis Islas grasping at thin air. Five minutes later, the scores were level. Daniel Prodan, in a desperate bid to deny Batistuta a sight of goal, pulled the striker back by the arm, eliciting a sack-of-spuds response from the luscious-locked forward; penalty Argentina. Batistuta himself rolled the ball into the bottom corner, and normal service looked to be resumed.

Seconds later Batistuta was as it again, launching his body over a tackle and offering the referee a quizzical look, only for Pierluigi Pairetto to wave play on. Coincidentally, this would be the Italian official’s last game of the tournament, sent home by FIFA for ‘failing to meet the expected standards’ in this match. Regaining possession from the tackle, Romania broke forward at pace, the majestic Hagi conducting the play from the right wing, playing a one-two before finding the clever run of Dumitrescu and laying on his second goal of the afternoon. After the build up of the South American attack, it was the forwards in yellow stealing all the headlines.

From the start of the second half, Argentina began to pile on the pressure. Camping out inside Romania’s half, pushing men forward and forcing set pieces, a second equaliser looked only a matter of time. From Ortega’s corner, Miodrag Belodedici headed clear, and Fernando Caceres stumbled on the ball, allowing Dumitrescu to nick it off him and motor into the Argentina half. Rather than head for glory, the forward checked inside, waited a beat, and repaid a favour by feeding the ball into the path of the onrushing Hagi. The emphatic finish provoked a primal response, a release of pressure. Romania were on the brink of something special. Balbo would pull one back with fifteen minutes remaining after a fumble by Florin Prunea, but Iordănescu’s side would hold on for the win, sparking delirium at the final whistle. 

Another dramatic, breathless game would see Romania’s quarter-final with Sweden go to penalties where, once again, the Tricolores were undone, but USA ’94 remains the most memorable summer in Romanian football history; when anything was possible.

The Oranje’s hopes of reaching the 2018 World Cup hung by a thread after a shellacking in Paris, their heaviest defeat since 1961. Despite Dick Advocaat’s team rallying in the final two group games, Holland were eventually pipped to second place by Sweden, condemning the nation to back-to-back qualification failures.

Bronze-medalists in 2014 and runners-up in 2010, the Dutch machine appeared to have seriously malfunctioned. Following on so soon from their dismal performance in Euro 2016 qualification, a serious inquest into Dutch football began, with the theories behind their failures manifold.

“There was a generation of talent which should have replaced the likes of Sneijder, van Persie, and Robben but they didn’t reach their capabilities, leaving a side that was a mixture of ageing players and youngsters that wasn’t strong enough to make Euro 2016 or the 2018 World Cup.”
Michael Bell, Editor of Football-Oranje.com 

Papers and pundits pointed to the so-called ‘Lost Generation’, a group of players that should have been primed to replace the outgoings stars. At the 2014 World Cup in Brazil, the Netherlands star performers were Ron Vlaar, Robin van Persie, Wesley Sneijder and Arjen Robben, all of whom were 29 or over, while fellow key players Klaas-Jan Hunterlaar and Dirk Kuyt were also entering the winter of their international careers.

They should have been joined in the squad by players that had been blooded in South Africa four years earlier, with the likes of Ibrahim Affelay, Ryan Babel and Eljero Elia touted as the next big stars of Dutch football. Two years later, at Euro 2012, Jetro Willems, Luuk De Jong and Luciano Narsingh were touted as the up-and-comers, while Jordy Clasie, Daryl Janmaat, Daley Blind and Leroy Fer flew the flag for the nations future in Brazil. Only Babel and Blind started in the Netherlands’ final UEFA Nations League fixture last November.

It quickly became obvious that the issues with the playing staff were at both ends of the pitch too, though a shortfall of fourteen goals in the 2018 qualifying campaign compared to four years earlier in particular raised serious questions about a lack of firepower. While the great Dutch strikers of the 1970s were lauded for their ability to play anywhere across the pitch, the likes of Marco van Basten, Patrick Kluivert and van Persie introduced the notion of an out-and-out goalscorer more in-tune with fellow European nations. In their stead, Memphis Depay, Quincy Promes, and Steven Berghuis have arrived; all talented players, equipped with intelligence, skill and pace, but none of whom possess the instinct for goals of those that came before them.

“The Dutch tradition of producing great strikers has been hampered by the clamour to change playing style. Dutch press and experts called for the national team to move away from the ‘total football’ model, and become a more physical team, focussing on defending from the front.”
James Rowe, Dutch Football Expert at WorldFootballIndex.com

Thanks to Rinus Michels, the Dutch have long been renowned for their style of ‘Total Football’, whereby every player on the pitch can excel in every position. Originally brought to the fore in the 1970s, with Johann Cruyff as the teams talisman, the Dutch side that bounced back from consecutive unsuccessful qualification campaigns to win Euro 88 continued the tradition, with AC Milan’s trio Frank Rijkaard, Ruud Gullit and van Basten the epitome of the philosophy. By 2010, however, it was clear that a more pragmatic approach had to be taken, with the talent factories of the Netherlands beginning to run out of steam. The side that reached the World Cup final in South Africa was undoubtedly blessed with a degree of silk – most notably in Arjen Robben, perhaps the most technically gifted Dutchman since Dennis Bergkamp –  but coach Bert van Marwijk offset this flair with the introduction of two midfield destroyers in Mark van Bommel and Nigel de Jong, resulting in the barbaric showing against Spain in the World Cup final.

That performance sparked much handwringing in the Dutch press and, more importantly, at the KNVB. After a disappointing display at Euro 2012, van Marwijk was replaced with Louis van Gaal, a well-respected authoritarian who’d enjoyed success all over Europe, but whose focus on the tactical minutiae of the game was anathema to the free-flowing Dutch way of playing. The Netherlands confounded expectations at van Gaal’s only major tournament, reaching the semi-finals of the 2014 World Cup in a campaign best remembered for the 5-1 humiliation of Spain in the opening game of Group B. That result aside, however, Oranje were well below their best, and the 240 goalless minutes against Costa Rica and Argentina were glossed over by the resounding victory over a feckless Brazil in the Third-Place Playoff. With their manager spirited away by Manchester United, it was left to the Dutch Football Association to make the right choice with his successor.

“The KNVB dithered in finding a suitable managerial candidate with a long-term vision to lead the national team, and the approach to the subsequent qualifying campaigns was arrogant. They expected to beat the likes of Iceland, Czech Republic, Sweden, and Bulgaria.”
James Rowe, Dutch Football Expert at WorldFootballIndex.com

Guus Hiddink arrived as a short-term replacement for van Gaal, with a view to grooming Danny Blind as his eventual successor after Euro 2016. Despite his pedigree, the former Real Madrid manager got off to the worst possible start, losing two of the first three qualifiers away to the Czech Republic and Iceland. The KNVB were soon pushing the panic button, and Blind was thrust into the hotseat to replace the fired Hiddink. The Ajax stalwart fared little better however, and after completing a disastrous Euro 2016 qualifying campaign, he was sacked after five games of the 2018 World Cup qualifiers, following a 2-1 defeat in Bulgaria.

As is often the case, the KNVB looked backwards to move forwards, and invited former coach Dick Advocaat back into the set-up in order to salvage the campaign. A 5-0 victory over Luxembourg in Advocaat’s first game spaked scenes of jubilation in the Dutch dressing room, but they were brought back down to Earth with a bump following their French humilation. By the end of 2017 Advocaat had departed, and Dutch football was in disarray.

“A lot can change in a year in football, and the chance to establish those promising youngsters into the senior national team is one the Dutch must grasp with both hands, or we could soon be talking about the Never Netherlands.”
‘Oranje Crush’, That’s Liquid Football, 15th October 2017

“Magnificent Oranje Reborn”
13th October 2018: Netherlands 3-0 Germany
UEFA Nations League

Dutch supporters have the unlikely figure of Jeff Hendrick to thank for providing the catalyst for the national team’s turnaround. It was the Irishman’s late winner for Burnley at Goodison Park that saw the tables fully turn on Everton manager Ronald Koeman, just months after leading the Toffees to seventh in the Premier League. Two games later, a 5-2 defeat at home to Arsenal proved to be the final straw, and Koeman was relieved of his duties on Merseyside.

A member of the Euro 88 winning side, Koeman’s reputation in the Netherlands as a rampaging central defender had already earned him legendary status. His career in management has also brought plenty of success, with trophies in Spain and Portugal sitting neatly alongside success with three different clubs in the Eredivisie. When Advocaat vacated the role of national team manager, there was an obvious candidate to take the reigns.

“Everything is starting to look rosy again and it’s down to the appointment of Ronald Koeman, who has come in and built the confidence again. He has made Netherlands defensively more sound and built a side around the nations best players.”
Michael Bell, Editor of Football-Oranje.com

Appointed in February 2018, Koeman quickly set out his stall as Netherlands manager, naming five uncapped players in his first squad. Robin van Persie was ignored in favour of new blood, and Wesley Sneijder had been informed that he was no longer in the national team’s plans. While his predecessors had continued to cling on to the past, the former Ajax coach was only looking forwards. 

Koeman’s next big decision was to appoint a captain, and no-one fit the mould better than the most expensive defender in world football. Virgil van Dijk had been signed by Koeman during his time at Southampton, and had developed into a world class defender in the Premier League, convincing Liverpool to splash out £75m for his services. A commanding presence in the backline with strength and pace in spades, van Dijk’s game has undoubtedly been inspired by Koeman’s playing style, offering the manager a talisman to build his team around.

A friendly defeat against England in Koeman’s first game was disappointing but not without positives. The shambolic defence that had leaked twelve goals in ten World Cup qualifiers looked decidedly sturdier, with Ajax’s Matthijs De Ligt slotting in comfortably alongside van Dijk. A regular starter in Amsterdam since turning eighteen, the impressive stopper has become a key player in the Dutch resurgence.

The second game of Koeman’s reign three days later offered a glimpse of the new coach’s impact on the side. A meeting with Cristiano Ronaldo and Portugal in Geneva saw the Oranje blow the European Championship holders away with three first-half goals. The unlikely forward line of Besiktas’ Ryan Babel and Memphis Depay helping themselves to a goal apiece. Neither player had lit up the Premier League during spells with Liverpool and Manchester United respectively, but the ageing Babel had found a new lease of life in Turkey, while Depay’s confidence has grown exponentially since moving to Lyon in 2017, finishing last season as the third top scorer in Ligue 1. Whether by luck or design, everything started to click into place for Koeman.

The real litmus test would arrive in the inaugural UEFA Nations League however, and though the opening game against newly-crowned World Champions France ended in a 2-1 defeat, Dutch supporters left Saint-Denis in far greater spirits than they had a year earlier. A meeting with rivals Germany, themselves in a period of soul-searching following a dismal showing in Russia, would provide a timely progress report for the Koeman era. In the event, the Netherlands crushed Joachim Low’s side. A resounding 3-0 victory in Amsterdam provided a performance and result for the Dutch to hang their hat on. The Koeman Revolution had lift-off.

Though the odds of topping their Nations League group were slim, the victory over Germany provided a platform for the Dutch to build on, and after a decent showing in a friendly against Belgium, France were swept away on Matchday Three. Gini Wijnaldum, who’d broken through under van Gaal but struggled to make an impact in the previous two qualification campaigns, looked revitalised under Koeman, opening the scoring with his second goal in successive Nations League matches. Depay’s late penalty not only condemned Germany to relegation, but also gave the Netherlands a chance of reaching the final tournament.

In Gelsenkirchen three days later, it seemed that the improbable would not come to pass as Timo Werner and Leroy Sane gave Germany a two-goal lead inside twenty minutes. If the Oranje supporters were looking for a reaction to adversity, they got it. Quincy Promes’ strike five minutes from time restored hope of gaining the point that would secure top spot, and with van Dijk sent forward by Koeman as an auxilary striker, the imposing centre-back’s delicious stoppage time volley sparked bedlam among the travelling fans. Seemingly from nowhere, the Dutch had risen.

“The way the Netherlands are playing at the moment, reaching Euro 2020 should be achieved especially since the draw has been kind, apart from Germany. At the moment I think they’re one or two players short of having a team to compete for titles again but anything can happen at major tournaments. I think by 2022 or 2024, they’ll be among the favourites.”
Michael Bell, Editor of Football-Oranje.com

With another meeting with England in the Nations League finals to look forward to, attention can now turn to the qualifiers for Euro 2020, with the nation desperate to avoid a hat-trick of tournament absences. Belarus, Estonia and Northern Ireland hold little in the way of fear factor for the Dutch, but with back-to-back meetings with Germany on the horizon, Koeman will be desperate to see his side hit the ground running. Key to their good start will be the performances of the youngsters called up to the squad, with Koeman naming nine players aged 25 or under ahead of the first round of qualifiers. Of those nine, five have come through the Ajax academy.

It’s no secret that De Toekomst has helped produce many of the finest Dutch players of the last fifty years. From Cruyff to van der Vaart, via Davids, Seedorf and van der Sar, the spine of every great Netherlands side has been forged in Amsterdam. More recently, however, it has been the development of overseas players that has helped maintain the academy’s reputation, with Belgian stars Toby Alderweiereld, Jan Vertonghen and Thomas Vermaelen all graduating from the world’s most famous youth set-up. Luis Suarez and Christian Eriksen, too, earned their stripes in Ouder-Amstel, but in the past few seasons focus has returned to producing homegrown heroes.

“The youth policy of Ajax is key to the club’s identity and will of course be vital to the success of the Dutch national team in future, not just in terms of personnel but mentality in competitive matches too. Eredivisie players who have come through the Ajax youth system always speak highly about the education they received both on and off the pitch.”
James Rowe, Dutch Football Expert at WorldFootballIndex.com

Kluivert, de Ligt and Donny van de Beek are all recent graduates of the Ajax youth system, while the latest Golden Boy of Dutch football Frenkie de Jong was polished up upon his arrival from Willem II. It’s not just Amsterdam producing exciting young talent, however, with the academies at Sparta Rotterdam, AZ Alkmaar and Heerenveen all producing household names in recent memory. Meanwhile, young Dutch starlets across Europe are slowly working their way onto the radar of the national team manager, with Bayern Munich’s Joshua Zirkzee and Chelsea’s Daishawn Redan both contenders to become Holland’s next great striker.

In the short term, qualification for the European Championships is the goal. After four years of misery, Netherlands fans can finally begin to get excited about their team again. The future’s bright; the future’s Oranje.

To call Luton Town’s cup run in the 1993/94 season the stuff of giantkilling folklore seems a touch disingenuous. It wasn’t quite third tier Wigan Athletic’s run to the quarter-finals last year, as a side gunning for promotion knocked Premier League teams out two rounds in a row, including the supposedly unstoppable Manchester City, but given how fallow subsequent seasons have been for the Hatters, it stands out as a last hurrah for a team that had become a household name during the 1980s. Best remembered for their plastic pitch, uncompromising playing style, and David Pleat’s gallop across the Maine Road turf following Raddy Antic’s goal that kept them in the top flight, Luton Town had become mainstays in the old Division One right up until the inaugural season of the Premier League.

Pleat returned following relegation, finding a squad stripped bare of the assets that had made his side so formidable just a few years earlier. The uncompromising strikeforce of Mick Harford and Brian Stein had both departed, the creative spark of Roy Wegerle had moved on to Queens Park Rangers, and seasoned pros such as Les Sealey and Danny Wilson had also moved on. Left in their place were a collection of misfits and journeymen, supplemented by a crop of talented but untested youngsters. A battle against relegation in Pleat’s first season back was eventually won, but a difficult start to the 1993/94 season promised a similar fight to the death.

Finally hitting form at the turn of the year, a seven game unbeaten run in the league was punctuated by a narrow victory over Southend United in the third round of the FA Cup thanks to a goal from Paul Telfer. A product of Luton’s youth system, Scottish winger Telfer had established himself in the first team at the tail-end of the 80s, and by the time Pleat had returned to Kenilworth Road, he’d become one of the first names on the teamsheet. A speedy wide-man who liked to drift inside, the winner against Southend was Telfer’s third of six goals that season, and he would go on to enjoy a solid Premier League career with Coventry City.

A fortnight later Luton travelled to the north-east to take on Kevin Keegan’s Newcastle United, for whom Andy Cole and Peter Beardsley had established one of the top flight’s most ruthless strike partnerships. A first half goal from teenage striker Tony Thorpe, who Keegan would later sign as Director of Football at Fulham, had put the Hatters on their way to an upset before Beardsley’s second half penalty forced a replay. On a cold Bedfordshire night, it was Thorpe’s striker partner and fellow youth-team graduate John Hartson that opened the scoring in a 2-0 victory for the underdogs. Hartson had only made his debut for the Hatters a few months earlier in a League Cup defeat at Cambridge United, but his performances in the cup had made English football’s great and good take notice, with Arsenal eventually splashing out £2.5m in January 1995 to make him Britain’s most expensive teenager.

Cardiff City were dispatched in round five, before the second tier side were drawn against newly promoted Premier League opposition again, in the shape of West Ham United. The Hammers had achieved automatic promotion the previous season thanks to a late run of five wins in their last six games. The only defeat of that run came at Kenilworth Road, in a result that helped Luton retain their Division One status. With his team comfortably midtable, manager Billy Bonds might have fancied taking West Ham all the way to Wembley, but a stalemate at Upton Park meant they’d have to do it the hard way; another night under the floodlights at Luton beckoned.

Combining youth and experience, Pleat named four academy graduates in his starting line-up, alongside former cup winners Trevor Peake and Alan Harper, with veteran Kerry Dixon preferred to Hartson up front. It would be youngster Scott Oakes that stole the headlines however. Oakes had come through the ranks at Leicester City before being used as a makeweight in the deal that saw midfielder Steve Thompson head to Filbert Street. Fleet-footed, and with an eye for goal, Oakes had already made his name in the cup run thanks to his performance against Newcastle that perhaps still gives Barry Venison nightmares. Before Luton’s cup run, his greatest claim to fame was being the son of Showaddywaddy guitarist Trevor Oakes, but that was all about to change.

Bonds meanwhile called on the experience of Trevor Morley and Lee Chapman up front in a bid to get the job done. In fact, it was "Mad Dog" Martin Allen that opened the scoring for the visitors, sauntering into the penalty area unmarked before prodding beyond Juergen Sommer. The lead wouldn’t last long however and, after an accidental one-two with Dixon, Oakes brought Luton level. Buoyed by the noise from the home supporters, Pleat’s team emerged from half-time looking to take the game to their visitors. Seconds after the restart, it was Dixon and Oakes who combined again, the latter met the former’s knockdown with a driven volley that bobbled along the floor and outfoxed Ludo Miklosko in the West Ham goal.

Rather than rest on their lead, Luton pushed forward in search of a decisive third, and found their naivety punished. Breaking at pace, Ian Bishop received the ball on the left hand side of the penalty area and slid it into the opposite corner to bring parity. Oakes, though, refused to cede the limelight, showing dogged determination to rob Steve Potts in the centre circle before striding clean through on goal. The picture of composure, the 21 year old lifted the ball over Mikloso to spark jubilant celebrations and seal a place in the semi-finals for Luton Town.

The Hatters would get their day at Wembley, a fourth in six years thanks to success in the League Cup and Simod Cup, in the semi-final against Chelsea, but a brace from Gavin Peacock ensured the dream of lifting the FA Cup would end there. Within two years Pleat and his collection of starlets had all departed, with Oakes joining his erstwhile manager at Sheffield Wednesday. Since that famous cup run, Luton Town’s best performance has been a solitary fifth round appearance in 2013, though they now look on course for promotion back to the second tier after a twelve year absence.

The Player: Michael Mifsud

What links Tony Barras, Darren Ambrose, and Michael Mifsud? No, it’s not that they all sound like people you’d hire to sort out a leak in your kitchen. They’ve all silenced Old Trafford with goals that helped knock Manchester United out of the League Cup. What makes Mifsud so special? Well he’s the only Maltese player to have ever scored at the Theatre of Dreams. Born in the coastal town of Pietà just outside the nation’s capital, Mifsud soon became one of Maltese football’s hottest properties, signing with Sliema Wanderers shortly after turning 16. One goal in six appearances in his debut season was followed by a regular spot in the first team, as Sliema challenged at the top of the Maltese Premier League.

His emergence led to the offer of a trial at Manchester United, just weeks after Alex Ferguson’s team had won their historic treble. Though he would return to Sliema after failing to earn a transfer to the English giants, his chance to shine in Manchester would come in good time. Instead, Mifsud continued to tear up his native top flight, banging in sixty goals across four years with Wanderers, though failing to win any silverware.

Manchester United’s loss was FC Kaiserslautern’s gain, with the former Bundesliga champions prising the striker away from Sliema in 2001. Sadly, despite proving a hit in the German’s reserve team, Mifsud would return to Malta with his former club for a season, before heading off to Norway with Lillestrom. In his second season at the Åråsen Stadion he finished top scorer with eleven goals and was voted the best foreign player in the Eliteserien, which was enough to convince Championship side Coventry City to snap him up on a free when his contract expired.

After an impressive first six months at the Ricoh Arena, in which he won Coventry’s Goal of the Season award, Mifsud began perhaps the best season of his career. Having hit a brace against Carlisle to seal the Sky Blues’ place in Round Three, the Maltese striker’s dream of playing at Old Trafford was finally realised. In the 27th Mifsud slid a teasing cross into the far post to give Coventry a shock lead, before his trademark determination saw a goal created from nothing, as the man nicknamed ‘Mosquito’ chased down a long ball forward, nutmegged Gerard Pique and played a one-two with Jay Tabb before blasting into the top corner. Forget that this was an ‘inexperienced’ United defence – there aren’t many that can say they’ve had Pique’s pants down at Old Trafford.

Those confidence boosting goals helped Mifsud reach a tally of fifteen by Christmas, with his giantkilling exploits continuing with a brace at Ewood Park to knock Blackburn Rovers out of the FA Cup. Unfortunately there would be a sting in the tail to Mifsud’s remarkable season, as a protracted move to Bristol City broke down, and the striker fell out of favour. After a loan move to Barnsley, Mifsud returned to Malta, and would finally get his hands on a trophy, winning three Maltese Premier League titles with Valletta in 2012, 2016 and 2018. Now 37, Mifsud is still very much playing, currently turning out for Birkirkara, as well as captaining the Maltese national team.

At international level, Mifsud’s achievements are unrivalled in Malta. Making his debut at 19 against Albania, his career with the Falcons is littered with memorable moments, including a match-winning performance against Hungary in the Euro 2008 qualifying campaign, and an incredible five goal salvo in a 7-1 victory over Liechtenstein – the nation’s biggest ever win. In 2010, with a goal against Finland, he became the country’s top goalscorer, and continues to add to that tally.

While Mifsud might never reach the heights his obvious goalscoring talents deserve, he’ll probably take the title of ‘The Maltese Messi’ bestowed on him by La Gazzetta dello Sport. And that unforgettable double at Old Trafford of course.

The Game: Malta 2-0 Greece, 1975

Winning games isn’t something that comes naturally to the Maltese national team. In 390 FIFA recognised games, the archipelago have won just 42. If friendlies are removed from that list of victories, the number drops dramatically, with Malta winning just five games in their World Cup and European Championship qualification history. Still, everyone has to start somewhere, and in 1975 they did.

Malta had joined FIFA and UEFA in 1959 and 1960 respectively, but decided against registering for World Cup qualification for their first decade of membership. Their maiden forays into international competition had been in the European Championships, losing 9-2 on aggregate to Denmark ahead of the 1964 tournament, and finishing bottom of a group including England, Switzerland and Greece in a bid to reach the 1972 edition. Their first World Cup campaign, following on immediately from the Euros qualifiers, was similarly disastrous, as Sweden, Hungary and Austria made light work of the Reds, securing another fourth placed finish.

In a desperate bid to drill some competitive spirit into the team, the Maltese FA turned to Italian Terrenzio Polverini to manage the side for their Euro ’76 campaign. Polverini had carved out a career as a half decent defender in Serie B, and had been part of the Bologna squad that won the Scudetto in 1964, before injury had forced him into early retirement. Moving into coaching, Polverini spent six years as part of the backroom staff at Ternana, before making his first steps into management at Sliema Wanderers, winning the Maltese Cup in his first season.

Polverini’s first match in charge of Malta saw a defeat to Libya, one of the few teams the Falcons had actually beaten in previous meetings. A goalless draw in Tripoli was hardly cause for celebration either, and it was with trepidation that fans headed to the Empire Stadium in Gżira to watch their team take on World Champions West Germany. Though hardly an even game, Malta did at least manage to keep Franz Beckenbauer and co. at arms length, losing by a solitary Bernhard Cullmann goal.

On form, their next opponents hardly represented an easier proposition. Greece were slowly emerging in the world of international football, and had already racked up a win and two draws from their first three games before heading to the Empire Stadium. Among the Greek side were Vasilis Kostantinou and Mimis Domazos, both members of Panathinaikos’ run to the European Cup final three years earlier. Malta, meanwhile, gave a debut to young goalkeeper Robert Gatt. In a match dominated by the visitors, two bolts from the blue swung the game Malta’s way. In the 33rd minute, Sliema’s Richard Aquilina was played through on goal by full-back Eddie Vella, before lifting the ball over Kostantinou to give the hosts a half-time lead, before Vince Magro repeated the trick in the second half, as Polverini’s advice to his players to catch the Greek ‘keeper off his line helped seal an historic first competitive win for the Falcons.

Unfortunately that wouldn’t be the beginning of a Maltese resurgence, as Greece wreaked their revenge in the very next game, putting four past Malta in Saloniki. Polverini and his team would have the last laugh, however, as the Greeks missed out on top spot by a point, having lost just once in the whole campaign, and saw their place at the Euros taken by West Germany.

It would be another seven years before Malta won their next competitive fixture, a 2-1 victory over fellow minnows Iceland in the Euro 84 qualifiers. While the nation may have experienced more impressive victories, like a 1-0 win over World Cup-bound Belgium in 1994 or the 2-1 victory over Hungary in 2006, that win over Greece will be forever held dear in Maltese hearts. You never forget your first time.

The Player: Robby Langers

A string of Luxembourgian players have worked their way up the ranks of European football to represent teams in the continent’s top leagues. Jeff Strasser spent seven years in the Bundesliga with FC Kaiserslautern and Borussia Mönchengladbach, while current prospect Leandro Barreiro plies his trade at Mainz. Few, though, have made their mark on European football quite like Robby Langers.

Born in Luxembourg City some four months before Gary Lineker, Langers made his name as a sharpshooter at Union Luxembourg, scoring 26 times before his 21st birthday. That hot streak piqued the interest of some of Europe’s bigger clubs, and Borussia Mönchengladbach would move for the youngster in 1980. After two years of warming the bench at the Bökelbergstadion, Langers moved to France, and would break into the Marseille first team, making fifteen appearances and scoring once in his solitary season at the Stade Velodrome. A season at Metz followed, as Langers became the first Luxembourgian to win the Coupe De France, as Les Grenats overcame AS Monaco in extra-time.

Having failed to cement his place in Metz’s first team, Langers dropped down to the lower divisions, signing for Stade Quimpérois in the Championnat. Those two years in Finistère would equip the striker with the confidence to bounce back into the top flight, and a spell with Guingamp that saw him net fifteen times across forty-four appearances. By now reaching the end of his twenties, Langers was about to hit the form of his life, and would experience a remarkable eighteen months. Joining US Orléans in the summer of 1988, the striker would top the Ligue 2 goalscoring charts at the end of his first season, earning himself a move to Nice in the process. Halfway thorough his first season, at the annual Ballon D’or ceremony, it was revealed that Langers had finished in 23rd place, by virtue of picking up one fifth-placed vote from the judges. While it sounds like a puny achievement, the idea that a Luxembourgian could be named among the best twenty-five players in the world now seems ludicrous. Particularly given that he’d spent most of the year in France’s second tier.

Langers would finish that historic season with 17 goals for Nice, third in the top scorer charts in Ligue 1. Sadly, Les Aiglons were relegated, and Langers would depart the following year for a short spell with Cannes playing alongside a young Zinedine Zidane. The forward’s nomadic career would then take in lower leagues in Switzerland and Germany, before returning to Luxembourg for a season with F91 Dudelange and, finally, a farewell year with his hometown club Union at the age of 39 – a season in which Langers would score a remarkable fourteen goals in seventeen games.

Though less prolific at international level, Langers’ record of eight goals in seventy-three appearances is more impressive when you consider that Luxembourg only scored 26 times in the games that Langers was picked. A goal against Germany in a 3-2 home defeat was perhaps the zenith of his international career, though he was afforded a heroes goodbye in 1998, appearing for a matter of minutes in a friendly against Cameroon before being substituted to a standing ovation.

Perhaps not the most talented player that the Grand Duchy has produced, Robbie Langers’ story is at least the most remarkable. Just don’t mention Guy Hellers…

The Game: Luxembourg 2-1 Netherlands, 1963

Younger readers might find it difficult to believe, but there was once a time where it took more than being a team of moderately competent footballers to earn a place at the European Championships. Predictably, given his predilection for progressive thinking and commercial acumen, the idea of a pan-European tournament was the brain-child of Henri Delauney, football visionary and one-man slapstick factory (before becoming an administrator Delauney enjoyed a brief career as a referee, ended after a match in which he swallowed his whistle and had his front teeth broken by taking a ball square in the face). Delauney’s project wouldn’t be realised until three years after his death, but in 1960 Europe’s four best international sides faced off in the inaugural Nations Cup.

Only seventeen sides registered to qualify for that first edition, but when the second tournament rolled around, interest around the continent had been aroused. In 1963, 29 teams took part in three rounds of qualification for the right to take the crown from previous winners the Soviet Union. Since there were uneven numbers, three sides – Soviet Union, as holders, Austria and Luxembourg, for some unfathomable reason – were given byes to the first round proper, as heavyweights such as England, Portugal and Czechoslovakia fell at the first hurdle.

In the First Round of Qualifying, Luxembourg were handed the daunting task of taking on the Netherlands. While this wasn’t exactly the Netherlands of Cruyff, Neeskens and Rensenbrink, the Dutch were at least a half competent international side, in the embroynic stages of their Total Football philosophy. Previously, they’d only been beaten by Luxembourg once, in 1940 friendly, but since then had sent ‘B’ teams to dismantle Die Roten Löwen. In the first leg, things started as badly as expected. Five minutes into the game, Klaas Nuninga, a striker who would go on to win three Eredivisie titles with Ajax, opened the scoring for the hosts, sending 36,000 fans inside Amsterdam’s Olympisch Stadion into raptures. Given the talent at their disposal, the Dutch were expected to rack up a comfortable victory, but in the 33rd minute, Jeunesse Esch midfielder Paul May met Jean Klein’s corner and powered it beyond Feyenoord ‘keeper Eddy Pieters Graafland. The match finished 1-1, and an unlikely upset was on the cards.

Thanks to a lack of suitable venues in their own country, Luxembourg were forced to host the second leg in…the Netherlands, as the De Kuip Stadium in Rotterdam acted as the underdogs’ ersatz home. Having been hammered in the national press after their dismal showing in the first leg, Netherlands coach Elek Schwartz rang the changes, with a completely fresh front three being introduced in a bid to penetrate Luxembourg’s stubborn backline. The minnows themselves made changes too, with Belgium-based engineer Camille Dimmer coming in for goalscorer May. It would prove a stroke of genius.

The hosts sprung out of the traps, taking the game to the complacent Dutch. Dimmer, busy with running up front, struck the first blow in the 20th minute to send shockwaves through Feyenoord’s stadium. The Netherlands hit back fifteen minutes later as Piet Kruiver, a future Eredivisie top scorer, ran through on goal and slotted past Nico Schmitt. Now the momentum was with the so-called away team, and Luxembourg were holding on, desperate to force a replay. The Dutch, though, were too cocksure. Instead of going for the kill, they toyed with their little neighbours, failing to piece together anything incisive to give them the lead in the tie. Their conceit would come back and bite them when Dimmer restored Luxembourg’s lead. With a little over twenty minutes to go, the lights began to go out on the Netherlands’ Euro dreams, and those Luxembourgian fans in the crowd would go wild at the final whistle, as their team pulled off a famous win.

In the final qualifying round, Luxembourg were drawn against Denmark, and would play out a thrilling two-legged tie, and earn themselves an unlikely nemesis. A flurry of goals in Luxembourg left the tie in the balance, as the minnows led twice before relying on Henri Klien to earn the draw after a stunning hat-trick from the Danes’ Ole Madsen. Madsen would be at it again in the second leg, equalising Johny Léonard’s opener before giving the hosts the lead, only for Ady Schmit to send the tie to a replay. In Amsterdam, there would be no more chances for the underdogs, as Madsen scored an incredible sixth goal in the tie to seal a 1-0 victory for the Danes, earning them a place at the Euro 64 finals.

Sadly Luxembourg wouldn’t take this form into their next qualifying campaign, losing six out of six in their bid to make the 1966 World Cup. They’ve never come as close to a major tournament as they did in ’64, but with their current crop of talented players making waves in the UEFA Nations League, it mightn’t be too long before we see The Red Lions giving bloody noses to the big boys.