Meanwhile down on the touchline ... BBC presenter and commentator David Coleman is recording his introduction to the highlights package that will be transmitted on BBC Television in three days time, this coming Tuesday at 10.25pm, by which time the film will have been flown back to London. Still a couple of months until Telstar goes up, innit. Anyway, Coleman doesn’t look very happy! “Good evening. The game you are about to see is the most stupid, appalling, disgusting and disgraceful exhibition of football in the history of the game. This is the first time these countries have met; we hope it will be the last. The national motto of Chile reads, By Reason or By Force. Today, the Chileans weren’t prepared to be reasonable, the Italians only used force, and the result was a disaster for the World Cup. If the World Cup is going to survive in its present form something has got to be done about teams that play like this. Indeed, after seeing the film tonight, you at home may well think that teams that play in this manner ought to be expelled immediately from the competition.” Coleman stopped just short of a strangulated cry of “Won’t somebody think of the children?!?”, but we’re a little bit less sanctimonious. Remember to tune in on Tuesday, folks, sit back and enjoy! We guarantee you’ll like it!
So the hosts are guaranteed a place in the quarter finals. Italy, on the other hand, are going home. Perhaps, given all that’s gone down on and off the field, that’s just as well. And anyway, there’s always next time. 1966 can’t pan out any worse for them, can it?
FULL TIME: Chile 2, Italy 0, Dignity −783
The last act of the match sees Salvadore, thoroughly razzed off, jump in on Landa with little interest in connecting with the ball. Aston once again positions himself to stop World War Three breaking out, and then, utterly bored, takes the opportunity to blow for full time. As Mora rushes up to get in the ref’s grille, ostentatiously applauding in the sarcastic style, there’s one last majestic piece of childish nonsense. Maschio offers his hand to Landa; as the two are shaking hands, Maschio crumps his other fist onto Landa’s jaw. Snide as hell, but set your morals aside and there’s something quite special about that, so cold and calculating and cynical. Contreras rushes in to assist his friend, who aims a kick at Maschio, but the Argentina-born Italian takes up a boxing stance, sticks up his dukes in the old-fashioned I’m-prepared-to-go-ten-rounds fashion, and he’s left well alone. Aston trudges off the field in a straight line, the shortest route, head slightly bowed. He’s away, washing his hands of the bedlam continuing behind him, and leaving everyone else to sweep up a mess which, let’s face it, was partly of his own making.
90 min: Mora goes in late on Eyzaguirre, meeting his dangling leg, the full back having long dispatched the ball. He follows up by throwing hands. Eyzaguirre doesn’t seem that interested in engaging, his unwillingness to get involved in unarmed combat no doubt influenced by the scoreline. Altafini races in to separate the two, and ends up laying hands on referee Aston, which doesn’t go down too well. The official, clearly long tired of the whole affair, tetchily throws the ball to the floor so the free kick can be taken. The message seeming to be: the sooner that’s done, the sooner we can all go home.
GOAL!!! Chile 2-0 Italy (Toro 88)
Nope. This is all over, and Italy are going home, in retrospect the inevitable outcome since events of 80 minutes past. The prize wrestler Toro ends the bout with one almighty blow, lashing a shot into the bottom right from 25 yards. A gorgeous goal, totally out of keeping with the general aesthetic.
87 min: Salvadore goes on a desperate scamper after a Mora wedge down the inside right, but ends up in a sea of photographers behind the goal. Time’s running out for the Italians. Can the nine men somehow find the equaliser that would mean survival?
86 min: Mora has a wild, opportunistic strike from out on the left. It’s quite hopeless. Chile go up the other end, where Leonel Sanchez replicates Mora’s under-achievement of seconds earlier.
85 min: Fouilloux is in acres down the left. He curls a ball into the middle for Landa, who is clear in the box. Landa lets the ball clank around between his feet and can only dig out a poor shot that flies straight towards Mattrel. Somehow, Italy are still in this match, and retain a chance of staying in this World Cup. One goal is all they need.
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83 min: Nando Martellini seems to think the jig is up. “A long-distance free kick is all we’ve got left,” sighs our man from RAI.
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82 min: Salvadore is bundled off the ball in the middle of the Chilean half. Mora decides what the hell, and goes for goal straight from the free kick. He’s nearly 40 yards out! The ball bounces out of play harmlessly wide right of goal, an overly optimistic effort rewarded with ironic cheers from the home support. What a waste, with time very much of the essence.
80 min: Toro goes on the most basic but brilliant of runs, straight down the middle of the pitch. Sheer determination and presence allows him to retain possession, and he whistles a low shot inches wide right of goal. That snippet of football was superlative sport, nearly as good as the all-in wrestling.
79 min and a bit: FOOTBALL AS SCRIPTED BY DH LAWRENCE! Mora is wandering with the ball near the centre circle. Toro gives chase, and rugby tackles the Italian to the ground. Then refuses to let go! Aston is forced to bend down and prise them apart, as though the pair were wrestling naked on a rug in front of an intense fire. This is beyond pathetic. Toro finally gets up and presents the very picture of innocence, while Mora has to be stopped from attempting to spark a Hegelian dialectic using only his hands. He’s livid, real after-last-orders let-me-at-him stuff. There’s a lot of pushing and shoving, before Aston finally tries to calm Mora down. He doesn’t meet his targets: Mora stomps off waving his hands around in the Mediterranean fashion. Toro should probably have seen red as the aggressor, and there’s a case for Mora receiving his marching orders too.
79 min: A bit of space for Fouilloux, who batters a rising shot from a tight angle on the right straight at Mattrel.
78 min: Well, this game has opened up, all of a sudden! Altafini feeds Maschio down the right. Maschio swings a long ball into the area, which Altafini meets, eight yards out. But his header is weak and straight at Escuti. On another day, Altafini could have had two goals. Perhaps another day for the Milan striker, another big match.
77 min: Italy are rocking here. Landa nearly breaks clear down the left but is forced to check back. Toro picks up possession, drops a shoulder to get into the box, and fires a shot towards the bottom-left corner. Mattrell parries brilliantly.
76 min: ANOTHER GOAL FOR CHILE!!! BUT IT’S DISALLOWED. What a lovely sweeping move this was. Ramirez, to the right of the centre circle, rolls the ball inside to Rojas, who romps upfield and sets Landa into the area, free down the inside right. He sort of half-rounds Mattrel on the outside before slotting home, helped by the keeper’s hands flapping back like the doors of a saloon. The pitch again fills with over-excitable snappers, but they quickly u-turn when it’s clear Landa was some way offside.
75 min: Mora and Altafini cause the restart to be delayed, as they’re complaining to Aston about goodness knows what.
GOAL! Chile 1-0 Italy (Ramirez 74)
So much for holding on for that point! Toro bustles down the left, and is clattered by Robotti. Maschio arrives on the scene to throw a little snide kick into the mix. The karmic payback is instant. Navarro swings a free kick into the Italian area. Mattrel comes off his line to punch clear, but it’s a weak effort, the ball dropping towards Ramirez, eight yards out, level with the right-hand post. He sends a looping header towards the top right, and despite two blue shirts defending the line, it creeps in. The instant snap and crackle of celebration pops many an eardrum. The pitch is flooded by photographers again, who finally have a few smiling faces to snap instead of the usual sour phizogs.
73 min: Ramirez curls a cross to the far post from the right. Janich clears, but only to Rojas, who snatches at his shot from the edge of the area, the ball flying well wide left.
71 min: Italy win a corner down the right, but nothing comes from it. They’ve rarely threatened since Altafini missed that header in the first half. It looks like they’ve settled for the point which would at least keep them in this competition, understandable in the circumstances.
69 min: Rojas goes on a slalom down the inside-left channel, but he’s crowded out, blue shirts swarming around him. Italy have been very disciplined at the back, like that’s ever news, nine men or no.
67 min: Mora exchanges passes with Altafini down the left, and cuts inside as he approaches the box. Contreras bundles him over, then stamps on the prone Italian captain’s leg for good measure. This didn’t start well, and it isn’t going to end well.
66 min: ITALY HAVE THE BALL IN THE NET!!! But it won’t count. Altafini ghosts past Navarro, tight on the right touchline, then drifts inside, past two other Chileans, and sticks the ball away from a tight angle. But the whistle’s long gone, the ball having marginally drifted out of play. That was an extremely close call, and it’d be lovely to see another angle of that. Still, Italy can’t feel too hard done by, as the covering players, Raul Sanchez and Landa, had stopped competing, and Escuti didn’t even pay lip service to making a save. Mora isn’t happy with the decision, though, and engages the referee in appropriate discourse.
64 min: Yes, so much for Mora of the United Nations. He takes a full-blown rake down Contreras’s calves as the two tangle out on the right wing. He’d already won the free kick, for goodness sake. Aston, showcasing what appears to be his signature move, does absolutely nothing. Having said that, the ref then makes a small show of ordering Maschio to hurry up with the set piece, a strange diktat seeing the player’s nowhere near the ball and clearly never going to be taking the free kick anyway. It’s fair to say Mr Aston’s head is scrambled too, albeit in a different way to the constantly sparring players.
63 min: It’s been fairly quiet in terms of nonsense since the restart, but things may just be heating up again. First Mora – the peacemaker in the first half, remember – hacks at Navarro and Raul Sanchez in quick succession as he goes on a wild sortie down the right. Then Eyzaguirre pointlessly and provocatively runs into Maschio on the other wing, before trotting away waving his arms dismissively.
62 min: A couple of long shots from Chile: the first from Rojas earns two rugby points, the second is an over-ambitious effort by Contreras on the left touchline. It stays left. Italy are holding out easily enough right now. Less than half-an-hour to see out, and they’ll maintain an interest in this year’s tournament.
60 min: The ever-busy Toro is brought down 30 yards from goal by Janich. Leonel Sanchez sends the free kick rising towards the top left, an unerring heat-seeker. But Mattrel is its equal, and tips the ball round for a corner at full stretch. Italy deal with the resulting corner without fuss.
58 min: A rare moment of attacking creativity from Italy, as Mora tries to make ground along the right by flicking the ball over his own head and spinning away. It’s a cute trick but Navarro is waiting for him a couple of steps up the field, and puts a stop to his gallop.
56 min: Toro is bundled over as he makes his way down the right. The free kick is blasted into the wall, and the rebound is dragged well wide left by the incessant Toro. Before Mattrel can restart the game, Salvadore decides to sit on the turf and roll around for a while, eating up another minute or so. This is a masterclass in sharp practice.
55 min: Toro, drifting right to left, evades two reckless sliding challenges before firing a shot just over the bar from 20 yards. Chile are getting closer, step by careful step. Mattrel takes an age to gather the ball from behind the goal. The crowd do their pantomime duty. In the next phase of play, Landa, perhaps getting a tad frustrated that the game remains goalless, chases a ball he’s never going to get down the inside right and leaves a foot in on Salvadore, who was shielding his keeper as he came out to collect. There’s a bit of passionate debate about this, a lively back-and-forth.
54 min: Maschio plays a little basketball as he prepares to take a throw. He’d have stopped and whistled four verses of Sweet Georgia Brown if the referee had let him, but Aston runs over and for the benefit of those in the stands, taps his watch theatrically.
53 min: Italy are already trying it on with a view to running down the clock. Mattrel and Salvadore faff around at the back, tapping it to each other until Landa jogs up and forces the keeper to pick the ball up and get a wriggle on.
51 min: Ramirez, from the edge of the box, fires a header straight at Mattrel. Chile, two men to the good, are bossing the possession, but still haven’t put Italy’s keeper under serious pressure.
49 min: Landa and Toro so nearly one-two their way through the thick blue line on the edge of the Italian area, but their intricate work doesn’t quite come off. Toro is scythed to the floor by Maschio, just to the right of the D. Leonel Sanchez takes a long run up, but pea-rolls the free kick straight to whoever wants it in the wall. That was dismal. The ball’s reclaimed and Navarro has a dig from distance. It’s on target for the bottom right but easily smothered by Mattrel.
47 min: No, they’ve decided the best form of defence is attack. Mora entertains himself with a sly kick in the back of Navarro. That might have been a good old-fashioned boot up the arse, actually, but it’s hard to tell in the bright sun whether toecap connected with Special Place. Mattrel, staring into the yellow menace, claims a deep Leonel Sanchez cross from the left with élan.
And we’re off again! Italy restart the bout, and quickly lose the ball. Maschio reclaims and sets Menichelli and Mora scampering upfield. They reach the edge of the area before the move breaks down. Have Italy decided that the best form of defence is attack?
Half-time advertising break.
HALF TIME: Chile 0-0 Italy
Leonel Sanchez’s corner is easily cleared, then Toro, coming back at Italy, hesitates on the edge of the area when he has chance to shoot. And that’s that for the half. No goals, is the briefest and most tactful way to sum that one up. But Italy are in trouble. They’re two men down, in a match they can’t afford to lose if they want to stay in this World Cup. That’s a lot of trouble.
45 min +8: Italy are wasting time, with a view to regrouping at the interval, which can’t be long in coming. They ping it around at the back, then Salvadore turns and fizzes an awful backpass wide left of goal. Mattrel can’t stop it going out for the most needless of corners.
45 min +7: Maschio loses it a wee bit. He’s brought down by Navarro as he diddles down the right. Free kick. Rojas, dropping back to defend the set piece, sends the ball a few yards back upfield as he runs past. Maschio chases it, sliding in viciously to hook it out for a throw. Play hasn’t even restarted yet! He really needs a cooling flannel at half-time.
45 min +6: The game finally restarts and Rojas goes on a skilful slalom down the centre of the field. He’s eventually bundled over just in front of the Italian D. Toro takes a quick free kick, sliding in Ramirez down the inside left, but Italy are wise to the game and crowd the striker out.
45 min +5: Sanchez, up on his feet but tottering around gingerly, is helped off. Aston spots something suspicious deep in the Italian half. He wanders upfield - and sure enough, his instincts were right! He checks the number on the back of an Italian shirt – and it’s David! He’s crept back onto the field and was lining up, ready for the restart of play! Aston ushers him off the field for the second time with a heavy sigh, perhaps reflecting on how much easier his life would have been had he taken up a career in child-minding, cat-herding or mine-sweeping.
45 min +3: Sanchez is still getting treatment. Mora goes across to show some human concern. Rojas is reasonably responsive to a player who, despite losing the place once or twice himself, has done more than most in his attempts to keep a lid on this.
SENT OFF: David (Italy)
45 min +2: David is immediately sent packing. Rather gloriously, he has the chutzpah to hold the universally recognised pose of What? Me? as the referee orders him off.
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45 min +1: DING! DING! ROUND TWO! The referee really should have sent Sanchez off for that punch. And so, with a grim inevitability, David takes matters regarding justice and retribution into his own hands. The ball is bouncing in the general environs of Sanchez down the Italian right. David ignores the orb and instead launches at the southpaw with a head-high karate kick. He connects cleanly, boot on neck. Ooyah! Oof! Gertcha! As David Coleman says in his BBC commentary: “He bought that right in the face! That was one of the most cold-blooded and lethal tackles I think I’ve ever seen!”
45 min: Tumburus slices an awful shot from distance so far wide right that Mora is able to pick up possession down the wing and win a corner. The set piece is wasted. We’ll have a few minutes of added time as a result of the Ferrini fiasco.
44 min: After all that, it’s a free kick to Chile, down by the corner flag. Rojas sends it whooshing straight into the arms of the ever-relaxed Mattrel.
42 min: The punch sparks a melee. How could it not? Many people have much to say. Sanchez, having hopped around theatrically to draw attention to the fact he was kicked in the first place, somehow escapes censure, which is beyond extraordinary. This really should be ten against ten. Or possibly ten against nine. Or even... actually, let’s not even go there, we’d have to abandon the match.
41 min: But here come dark clouds! WHAT A LEFT HOOK!!! Leonel Sanchez is trying to wriggle round the outside of David near the left-hand corner flag, but the route to the penalty area is cut off and he’s forced to turn back. As he does so, he falls over, his legs covering the ball. David decides to see if matter can pass through matter by thrashing his boot twice at Sanchez’s shins, in a wholly disingenuous attempt to release the ball. Sanchez springs up, plants his right foot on the turf, and with much venom pivots his body to throw a southpaw haymaker. He connects cleanly with David’s jaw. David falls to the floor on his back, spark out. You can get too pious about stuff like this, so let us just say that’s the best left hook you’ll ever see on a football pitch! Pow! Right in the kisser! Straight to the moon!
39 min: In other news, it’s become quite sunny.
38 min: Chile respond by pinning Italy back in their own area, but the Azzurri are holding firm. There’s nothing going on in the area. Chile resort to hopeful long balls and equally aimless long shots.
36 min: So that old joke comes to life: in the midst of a fight, a football match broke out. I wonder if everyone can keep it going? Play along nicely, now, lads.
35 min: A chance for Italy! And it’s probably the best of the match so far. Menichelli wins a throw near the left-hand corner flag. He finds Mora with his back to goal. Mora turns and, from the left-hand edge of the area, whips an inswinging ball onto the head of Altafini. The striker’s slap bang in the middle of the area, seven yards out, and unmarked. He really should score, but flashes a header wide right. The stadium falls silent in fear and shock, before 66,057 fans blow their cheeks out in relief.
34 min: Leonel Sanchez finds space down the left, and fires a gorgeous ball along the corridor of uncertainty. If Fouilloux was a yard further ahead, he’d have had a simple tap-in from six yards, but the cross sails straight through the area and away from danger.
33 min: Eyzaguirre is sent down the right wing and fires a low cross into the centre. With several red shirts lurking, David manages to intercept and Italy hack clear. Chile are beginning to carve out some half-chances. Mora looks to relieve the pressure by taking Italy on an attack of their own up the right, but he’s professionally felled by Fouilloux, who chainsaws his ankles.
32 min: Landa goes on a magnificent high-speed slalom down the middle of the park. It’s Garrinchaesque. He’s gently nudged off the ball by Janich. Free kick. Leonel Sanchez dinks it into the area, but it’s headed clear with ease. What a waste of a promising position. What a fine run, though.
30 min: Toro has a whack from distance. It’s always high and wide on the right. Mattrel still hasn’t had much to worry about.
29 min: Robotti is about to embark on a sortie down the left, but Contreras, charging out from the back, leaves his foot in. Foul. Mora, powered by the steam parping out of his ears, sails over to ask Aston if he really thinks that sort of carry-on is acceptable. The crowd give it plenty. The volume in the stadium hasn’t always been the loudest, it should be noted, with extreme tension winning out over excitement. As the chap on RAI mentions, there’s “a lot of electricity in this match ... the climate is very heavy. There has been hostile propaganda against our players!” A fair point well made, though it’s probably worth remembering who started flinging the insults in the first place.
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27 min: David bundles Leonel Sanchez to the floor down the left, then stands over him gesticulating in the stereotypical style. Ay ay ay ay ay. The crowd respond to the assault as if this were a pantomime, which it sort of is, I suppose. Toro balloons the free kick, just to the left of the box, out of play on the right.
26 min: Fouilloux certainly is on one at the moment. As Robotti clears up a Chilean attack down the left, the striker flies in from stage right with another extra-special slider. If he connects, Robotti’s bones are surely flying into the air then cascading back down to earth in a cartoon pile accompanied by xylophone sound effects. But he misses. It’s like Billy Wright going to the wrong fire in pursuit of Ferenc Puskas at Wembley in 1953, only this time Billy’s wearing knuckledusters and twirling a flick-knife.
25 min: Normal service is quickly resumed up the other end. Fouilloux sashays into the Italy area from the left, and is dispossessed by Janich, who jets in for landing with both sets of studs showing. That’s just a ludicrous challenge. No foul, though! The ball flies loose near the corner flag, where it’s picked up by David. Now he’s flipped into the sky, and the aggressor is Fouilloux, who having left the last theatre of war, instantly launched himself into a new dispute with a slide tackle that disregarded reason. Free kick.
24 min: Mora chases a ball down the inside-right channel and enters the box. Contreras heads over to cover, but he’s not in total control and Mora is justified in going for the loose ball. Escuti comes out to smother and takes a clatter from Mora’s boot for his trouble. For once, the collision is totally accidental, and to his credit Mora springs up and immediately apologises to the keeper, putting a friendly arm around his shoulder. His apology is accepted, as it is by Chilean captain Navarro, who arrives on the scene with trouble-making intent but quickly realises there’s no problem here, and play restarts. A genuinely sporting moment, which is lovely to see, albeit highly incongruous in the context of what’s gone before.
23 min: Rojas drops a shoulder in the midfield and has a rake from the best part of 35 yards. It’s always going wide left, and Mattrel had it covered, but it was a decent enough effort given the distance. The keeper still not really troubled, though. Chile, for all their possession, really have to turn this up a notch. Cranking their central heating down might help in that regard.
22 min: Leonel Sanchez, approaching the left-hand corner flag, has his feet swiped from under him by David, rushing in from the middle. Sanchez gets up and hops around in pain, his left foot dangling in mid-air like a dog with a splinter in its paw. David wanders up to the stricken player, ostensibly to apologise, and gives him a playful cuff round the left ear with just a little bit of menace, but not so much that Sanchez can be sure it was a deliberate attack. Very sly. Fouilloux turns up to shove David lightly in the chest. Then the atmosphere suddenly cools. Weird. It’s nothing short of amazing how that failed to end up in a large comic-book cloud of dust with boots and fists sticking out of it. Sanchez decides to concentrate on the free kick instead, which he floats harmlessly into Mattrel’s arms at the near post.
21 min: It’s easy to forget how well Italy had started. Now their play is messy, utterly disjointed, totally aimless. They’re reduced to launching long balls upfield in the direction of nobody. Chile mop up again and again; the hosts are enjoying the lion’s share of possession, though they’re doing very little with it. Italy’s debutant keeper Mattrel hasn’t been required to make a meaningful contribution as of yet.
19 min: Just about every challenge is an agricultural lunge now. It’s not even news any more. Both sides have totally lost the head. There are a couple of hot-blooded ligament-bothering swipes which are, happily, so badly mistimed they miss their intended target. Tumburus, chasing back after a long ball down the left, lifts a boot to hook it out of play and is an inch away from taking Landa’s face clean off. I’m not sure whether that’s a superb defensive clearance or chargeable offence.
17 min: Tumburus brings down Rojas, who was pelting along the inside-left channel with great determination. The free kick’s not very good, but deflected out for a corner. That’s easily cleared, but Toro comes straight back at the Italians. And is immediately hacked by Mora. Another free kick! Which is again wasted, Leonel Sanchez and Toro faffing about. Italy, the collective noggin gone, are really pushing their luck at the moment. The referee’s patience is surely bound to snap. Or Chile’s. Or both.
15 min: We’re up and running again! A whole 59 seconds elapse before Maschio leaves a little calling card on Ramierez’s shin. Nothing major, just enough for the Chilean forward to require a minute’s worth of treatment. That’s an “innocent kick”, according to the RAI commentator, working through some new philosophical concepts.
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14 min: Mora is still having to place himself between his team-mates and the referee. Aston performs the internationally recognised mime for Calm Down Sonny Jim, then points to the centre of the pitch, where he wishes Chile to restart the game. Yes, this game’s going to restart all right, isn’t it.
12 min: The military manoeuvres fizzle out relatively quickly. Ferrini is gone. Aston has a word with his linesman on the far side. Mora, Altafini and Menichelli mill around, pattering away in the ref’s ear. They’re not happy about this at all. Thing is, Ferrini’s thuggish challenge was wholly preposterous. What was Aston expected to do?
11 min: The police - it appears to be the entire Santiago constabulary - begin the process of marching Ferrini off the field. Mora has a go at persuading the officials to unhand his midfielder, but he’s unceremoniously bundled out of the way. If this wasn’t farcical enough, the kops throw some Keystone shapes: they’re leading the player off in the wrong direction! They’re forced to take a massive u-turn and haul the poor bugger back from whence he came, then down the other end and away! It’s a small wonder they didn’t drive off in a collapsing Ford Model T, with Ferrini on the back seat at the apex of a human pyramid.
10 min: THE BOBBIES ARRIVE MOB-HANDED! Several peelers have been called onto the field, and are attempting to lead Ferrini away. He’s not having a bar of it. Salvadore is in the heart of the melee, trying to extricate his friend from the grip of two stern-looking state apparatchiks.
9 min: The Italians are incensed. Their captain Mora is arguing passionately with Aston, getting right up in the official’s grille. He’s having to fight two battles at once, as well, because he’s forced to fend off several of his team-mates, all of whom wish to discuss the matter with Aston in the full and frank style. Why he’s bothering to stop them is anyone’s guess, because there’s no danger of this situation escalating ... as it’s simply not possible to escalate it any further! The pitch is flooded with photographers, officials, and assorted geezers from both benches, all of whom have something to say. This is unreal! Several stramashes are taking place in different areas of the pitch, each starring a few wildly flailing players, officials, and irate folk in suits. It’s like a Breugel painting brought to life by Cecil B DeMille, with the entire cast ripped to the tits on PCP.
8 min: But he’s not going off. Ferrini is point-blank refusing to do one!
SENT OFF! Ferrini (Italy)
7 min: The players do indeed take advantage of that largesse ... and as a result, Italy are down to ten men! Ferrini has another wild hack at a pair of legs, this time the ones dangling from Landa’s trunk, again near the centre circle. This time Aston puts his foot down. Or, to be more accurate, throws his arm around Ferrini, marches him away from the rest of the players, and points to the dugout. He’s been sent off!
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5 min: IT’S ON!!! BRAWL TIME!!! We’ve not been going long, and yet this has been coming. And what a beautifully choreographed piece of thuggery this is! Leonel Sanchez is meandering near the centre circle. Ferrini, malevolence on his mind, shoves Toro out of the way so he can reach the back of Sanchez’s legs. Wheech! He hacks away with such excitable glee that he falls to the floor before Sanchez does. Sanchez untangles himself and, while still prone, takes a wild swipe at his assailant’s legs. Meantime Toro comes in and blooters the loose ball off Ferrini’s back, then stumbles over the Italian clumsily. This gives Ferrini, still prone, the chance to sweep his studs across Toro’s ankles. They spring up. Toro turns with a view to belting Ferrini in the mushki. He can’t get within arm’s reach, though, as Ferrini sticks up a knee to protect his personal space and his teeth. The referee steps in, boxing style, to usher Ferrini away. Sanchez, one of several players rushing in to see what’s occurring, falls to the floor after being shoved in the chest by the Italian captain Mora. It all calms down soon enough - give or take a pitch invasion of photographers - but for a second that looked like breaking into a 22-man brawl. The initial tangle between Ferrini, Sanchez and Toro also briefly threatened to break into an interpretive dance piece, but let’s not confuse the issue. The referee takes no action whatsoever!!! Let’s hope the players don’t take advantage of that largesse.
4 min and a bit: Eyzaguirre cuts in from a deep position on the right and makes ground. His progress is abruptly, cynically, and illegally checked. A common-or-garden free kick, but animosity crackles as Chile prepare to take it. Rojas places the ball. Maschio questions the positioning. Rojas shoves Maschio in the chest. Referee Aston places the ball a couple of yards back up the pitch. All the while, Fouilloux is standing statue still, piercing eyes fixed upfield, staring out whichever Italian’s attention he can grab. Doesn’t matter who. Rojas takes a preposterous 20-yard run-up and whacks the ball towards the penalty area. He’s surely not trying to score, the free kick’s nearly 40 yards out. He just wants to wallop someone in the face, isn’t he. Tumburus clears. And then the inevitable occurs ...
4 min: Tumburus, by the centre spot, slides a pass down the left channel to release Altafini, who drops a shoulder to pass the covering Raul Sanchez. Altafini enters the area, fizzing a low shot towards the bottom left. Escuti smothers. This is a decent start by Italy.
3 min: Ferrini rakes a gorgeous long ball down the left for Menichelli, who pauses, then turns the burners on to leave Eyzaguirre behind. He reaches the box and looks for his fellow attackers in the middle, but his mid-height cross is claimed by Escuti.
2 min: The tone, your simple MBM scribe would humbly suggest, has been set in short order, and quickly to boot. Do you think we can get through another 88 minutes without this one going the shape of a badly rolled and undercooked pizza? Fingers crossed, huh kids.
32 seconds: Ooyah! The first foul of the day! That didn’t take too much time either. Chile play it back down the other wing, where Mora hassles Contreras off the ball and looks to break upfield. Navarro is having none of it, and cynically clips Mora’s ankles as he skitters up the touchline. Rojas has a little swipe as well, just to make sure. Mora’s chin nearly hits the floor at full tilt, but he somehow manages to stay upright and continues running off upfield, waving his hand in the dismissive, disgusted style.
13 seconds: ... oof! The first wild lunge of the game! Well that didn’t take long. Ramirez looks to scamper down the right touchline but is forced to put on the brakes to avoid Robotti, who comes to meet him at uncompromising speed. Ramirez is able to dance round the challenge and retain possession.
Chile v Italy is go! The hosts get the ball rolling. And five passes later ...
The teams are out! Chile in blood red, Italy in savoy blue. Whistling > anthems. The atmosphere is somewhat febrile, pretty much as expected. Chile’s national stadium on a rolling boil, a bain-marie of belligerence. Time to swap pennants. And bodily fluids, it would seem. A few of the Italians don’t look particularly happy, there seems to be some suggestion that they’ve been spat at by the Chileans. Strap yourself in, this could get interesting! We’ll be off in a minute.
Chile head coach Fernando Riera isn’t of a mind to fix what ain’t broke. He names the same XI that saw off the Swiss.
By contrast, Italian coaches Paolo Mazza and Giovanni Ferrari have rung the changes. Six of them, to be precise. Captain and keeper Renzo Buffon is injured; Carlo Mattrel will take his place, making his international debut. Mario David and Francesco Janich replace Giacomo Losi and Cesare Maldini in defence. Paride Tumburus and Humberto Maschio come into the midfield, with Gigi Radice missing out. And in attack, Gianni Rivera and Omar Sivori make way for Bruno Mora, who will be the stand-in captain.
The teams
Chile: Misael Escuti (Colo-Colo), Luis Eyzaguirre (Universidad de Chile), Sergio Navarro (Universidad de Chile), Carlos Contreras (Universidad de Chile), Raul Sanchez (Santiago Wanderers), Eladio Rojas (Everton de Viña del Mar), Jaime Ramires (Universidad de Chile), Jorge Toro (Colo-Colo), Honorino Landa (Union Española), Alberto Fouilloux (Universidad Catolica), Leonel Sanchez (Universidad de Chile).
Italy: Carlo Mattrel (Palermo), Mario David (Milan), Enzo Robotti (Fiorentina), Paride Tumburus (Bologna), Francesco Janich (Bologna), Sandro Salvadore (Milan), Bruno Mora (Juventus), Humberto Maschio (Atalanta), Jose Altafini (Milan), Giorgio Ferrini (Torino), Giampaolo Menichelli (Roma).
Referee: Ken Aston (England).
Tl;dr. Italy must avoid defeat today, or they’ll be heading back home. A Chile victory would bring both honour and a place in the quarter-finals.
Kick off: Yes, there’s a fair chance it might. The match starts at 3pm. It’s on!
Ghiredelli and Pizzinelli insisted their reports had been tweaked by sensationalists back on the desk - have you ever heard of such a thing? - but their pleas fell on deaf ears, the damage done. An innocent Argentinian journalist, minding his own business in a bar one night, was mistaken for one of the Italian scribes and given a bloody good hiding. Ghiredelli and Pizzinelli decided to flee back home before they got theirs. And now the poor Italian squad are in town, left to deal with the fallout from the actions of those two gobby buffoons. Feelings are running high. O Antonio! O Corrado! O tempora! O mores!
Just a wild guess, but that might explain why the locals got a bit touchy last month when Italian journalists Antonio Ghiredelli and Corrado Pizzinelli rocked up and started trash-talking Chile as a rubble-strewn slum. In dispatches sent back to their Florence rag, they also questioned the organisation of the tournament, as well as moaning about the “lack of beauty” among the local female population. Aside from the ring-a-ding-ding sexism, you have to admire the cheek of football writers berating someone else’s appearance. Football writers. Not long after publication in Italy, word got back to Chile, and all bets were off, folk understandably not best pleased at their country’s reputation having been traduced in the wake of tragedy.
... to 22 May 1960, 3.11pm. That was when the most powerful earthquake ever recorded, registering 9.6 on the Richter Scale, hit Lumaco, a town 350 miles south of Santiago. Most of the damage was copped by the nearby city of Valdivia, the ten-minute quake triggering landslides and floods, sparking a volcano in the Andes, and setting off a tsunami that caused devastating damage 6,800 miles away in Hawaii. An official death toll was never confirmed, but estimates suggest up to 7,000 poor souls lost their lives. Two million Chileans - and remember Chile’s total population is only six million - were left homeless throughout the upcoming biting winter. A genuine humanitarian catastrophe.
However the legendary Vittorio Pozzo, the man behind the glories of 1934 and 1938, sounded a pre-tournament warning. Now a journalist of some renown, Pozzo wrote in La Stampa: “Our football is too riddled with a defensive mentality to allow the necessary switch to free attack.” And the old maestro was proved right during that goalless draw with the Germans two days ago, when Italy showed next to nothing in attack. One of Pozzo’s colleagues suggested they froze in the face of an intimidating atmosphere, every move met with a cacophony of catcalls and abuse from the local crowd. But why all the noise? Why the opprobrium? OK, so let’s go back a couple of years ...
So what of two-time winners Italy, who Chile face today? The Azzurri, kings of the world before the war, have struggled since the resumption of the Copa Jules Rimet. The tragic loss of the Grande Torino at Superga in 1949 effectively scuppered their 1950 campaign from the get-go. They didn’t get out of their group in 1954 either, and last time round couldn’t even make it as far as the finals, Northern Ireland delivering the knockout punch in the qualifiers. But there was genuine hope this year, not least because of the talented oriundi imports up front: Humberto Maschio and Omar Sivori, once of Argentina, and Jose Altafini, a member of Brazil’s victorious squad four years ago. Throw in promising young playmaker Gianni Rivera, and you can see why some had been talking them up as the dark horses of 1962. Potential champions?
The day after, in the other Group 2 match, Italy drew 0-0 with West Germany. Not so much to report about that one.
It was no particular surprise, then, that this World Cup got off to a fairly excitable start three days ago. Chile faced Switzerland in the opening match at the Estadio Nacional in Santiago, and within six minutes they’d fallen behind to a speculative dig from distance by Rolf Wuthrich. You could have heard a pin drop, eerie echoes of the Maracana 12 years ago, Uruguay, Ghiggia, suicides in Rio, all that. Chile responded by getting physical: Eladio Rojas really should have been sent packing by English referee Ken Aston for throwing hands with Norbert Eschmann. The Swiss, managed by master tactician Karl Rappan, decided to sit back on their lead, challenging the hosts to unlock their verrou (“bolt”) defence. Bad choice! Leonel Sanchez equalised with a lucky deflection just before half-time. Six minutes after the break, Jaime Ramirez put Chile into the lead, whereupon hundreds of ecstatic punters staged a pitch invasion. All good-natured, and once it was cleared up, Sanchez wasted little time in adding a third. The hosts were off to a Group 2 flyer! On came the fans again at the end. This means more!
All up and down this beautiful long strip of a country, school holidays have been brought forward by a month to allow kids to watch the Campeonato Mundial de Fútbol. They’d simply otherwise not bother turning up for lessons, you see. Take the pretty garden city of Viña del Mar, where over 500 children between the age of eight to 12 issued one school quite the brazen ultimatum: allow us time off so we can get the autographs of the reigning champions Brazil, training nearby, or we will burn the school down. They were given the time requested. The benefits of collective bargaining, kids, right there. There is power in a union. Join one.
Preamble (a tale in ten parts)
It’s fair to say the Chileans are up for their World Cup. Take the scenes last Sunday in Rengo, a remote village 70 miles south of Rancagua, when Hungary played a practice match against the local team. Over 2,000 fans congregated in a field below the Andes as a military band played, soldiers marched, anthems were sung, guns and rockets were fired high into the sky, schoolchildren waved their Lone Star flags and cheered, and the big cheeses of the community made passionate speeches. A rousing scene. Not sure what the result of the actual game was. Doesn’t matter, does it.
