Hi everyone, Grace here. I know I’ve been slow at putting out newsletters over the summer, but hopefully, this 6.5k word tome will help make up for that. I’m finally returning to the World Cup flashback series with an entry on Germany in 2014.

Substack tells me this newsletter is too long, meaning email inboxes will cut off the last chunk. It looked ok to me when I tested it out, but if the newsletter just ends suddenly, try reading it on the web or in the Substack app for the full version.

The year is 2014. Here is the state of play.

Noted nice guy and beacon of honesty Sepp Blatter is still in charge FIFA. In his big plan that definitely didn’t have any corruption involved to spread the World Cup around, he’s running a policy of rotating the host nation between different continents. Asia got the gig in 2002, followed by Europe in 2006 and Africa in 2010. South America is up next. What Blatter needs is a country with enough history in the sport to sell to the world, but enough corruption to really make a huge profit with baffling infrastructure choices and political favours.

He’ll get one.

Brazil become the frontrunners to host the tournament pretty quickly. Argentina, Chile and Colombia all floated the idea but backed out, which was almost certainly the right call. FIFA needed twelve world-class stadia – requiring seven brand-new builds alongside five renovations – three of which are barely used today. FIFA even made Brazil reverse a law banning the sale of alcohol at football grounds in order to please their key sponsor, Budweiser. Many in the country were furious and responded with angry protests against all of this lavish spending in a country struggling to help its citizens.

The ruling Workers' Party was nervous. This World Cup was looking very dicey off the pitch. The actual sporting contest needed to be spectacular. They needed a World Cup and, crucially, a Brazil national team campaign that would redefine the country and live in the hearts of millions for a generation to come.

They’ll get one.

(Thanks to my friend Jeremy Mongeau, whose bit I blatantly ripped off here.)

Brazil were just about everyone’s favourites. Betfair gave the hosts an implied probability of 23.3%, but others thought that too conservative. “No country has beaten Brazil on its home turf in almost 12 years”, according to Nate Silver at the time. “To find a loss at home in a match that mattered to Brazil — in a World Cup qualifier, or as part of some other tournament — you have to go back to 1975, when Brazil lost the first leg of the Copa América semifinal to Peru […] Brazil is the betting favourite to win the World Cup — but perhaps not by as wide a margin as it should be”.

That didn’t deter a quietly confident Germany. It had been a long journey to get here. Germany last won the World Cup in 1990, in their last outing under the name “West Germany” before reunification. That was the old country winning in the old style for the last time. A European Championship win six years later kept the good feeling going for a while, at least. But after that, it had been tough. Croatia sprung a surprise in the 1998 World Cup by beating Germany 3-0 in the quarter-final stage. The team crashed out of Euro 2000 at the group stages. Reaching the World Cup final in 2002 looked great, but it was about an easy path more than anything. Another humiliating group stage exit at Euro 2004 proved the team wasn’t up to much. Something had gone very wrong in the country’s football.

The old methods had grown stale. German football still favoured a sweeper and man-marking scheme long after those methods had been ditched elsewhere. “The national team”, Raphael Honigstein explained in his book Das Reboot, “remained shackled to their libero, a tactical concept that also betrayed the country’s disconcerting longing for an omnipotent Fußballgott who’d organise the defence, lead the midfield and score the odd decisive goal as well”. The mistake had been set in stone decades earlier. “The 1974 World Cup Final pitted [Franz] Beckenbauer, the 1972 Ballon d’Or winner, against Johan Cruyff, the 1973 Ballon d’Or winner”, Michael Cox wrote in Zonal Marking. “The two captains were the world’s two best footballers and essentially dictated their nation’s footballing approach for the next couple of decades: Germany’s man-marking with a sweeper versus Holland’s pressing with an offside trap. Germany, and Beckenbauer, emerged victorious, so while others fell in love with Holland’s Total Football style, Germany continued with their own”.

Germany, for those of you who have never looked at a map, is not an island. Neither is the Netherlands, and those Dutch ideas spread across Europe quickly. Ideas about vertical compactness in pressing were adopted in Italy, with Arrigo Sacchi creating a new kind of “post-Cruyffian” style. Cruyff himself moved to Barcelona and obviously had a huge impact there. By the end of the 20th century, essentially every top European nation had embraced some form of Sacchi-esque zonal marking with a back four (though England came to it a different way) except Germany.

Ralf Rangnick sought to change that. He played a heavily Sacchi-inspired compact back four system that broke all the rules of German football. He and fellow travellers, most successfully Jürgen Klopp, pioneered a new model of football in the Bundesliga. In the 21st century, you’re far more likely to hear people talk about gegenpressing than libero. Germany’s success as a country comes from always looking forward and reinventing itself without past dogmas. All of this filtered through to the national team, with Joachim Löw also believing in the modern and attacking tactics emerging from the country.

Things had transformed at youth level, too. After the disastrous performance in Euro 2000, Germany set about rebooting its academy programmes with a much greater emphasis on technique and tactical intelligence. According to Honigstein, all but two members of Germany’s squad had matured under this new academy approach, radically altering the style of football the national team might play.

German football was innovative and modern. At club level, it was earning a reputation for being the best in the world, all but confirmed in 2013 when Bayern Munich beat Borussia Dortmund in the Champions League final. German football stunned the world in the first legs of the semi-finals that season, as Bayern destroyed Barcelona 4-0 on Tuesday, then Dortmund dismantled Real Madrid 4-1 on Wednesday. Spanish football had been the standard bearer at both club and international level by a huge margin. To be good at football at the start of the 2010s was to be Spanish, even if it was driven by Catalans who wished they weren’t. In the blink of an eye, the balance of power had completely shifted.

But above all, German football wasn’t just new and good. It was cool. The games were fast and exciting, set to the soundtrack of highly passionate fans in state-of-the-art grounds. Teams were tactically sophisticated with a sense of identity running all the way through the league. The clubs were fan-owned, promoting a sense of solidarity and ownership of the working man’s game. German football represented everything English football wasn’t.

All of this put Germany in the perfect spot to win the World Cup. There was just one problem: fitness. Ilkay Gündoğan, who had been one of the best midfielders in Europe, missed almost the entire 2013-14 campaign and had no chance of making the tournament. Mario Gómez – not a player of the same quality but an important option in offering something different – similarly missed most of the season and didn’t have a shot at the World Cup. The biggest blow, though, was Marco Reus, internally “considered Germany’s most important player in the final third” according to Honigstein. Then you add the players who were theoretically ok but turned up to the preseason training camp well short of their peak fitness. Manuel Neuer was nursing a shoulder injury he picked up in the DFB Cup final at the end of the season. Philipp Lahm’s ankle was in terrible shape, requiring treatment from doctors during the training camp. Sami Khedira had ruptured his cruciate ligament less than a year earlier and still didn’t look like he had fully recovered. Bastian Schweinsteiger had been dealing with tendonitis for a while and, in truth, never regained his 2012-13 form. It would be impossible for Löw to pick a strong side that was completely fit. The heat of Brazil would also be far beyond anything the players were used to growing up in Germany, prompting Löw to play a less demanding counter-attacking style.

The mood at home was very pessimistic with the shape of the players coming into the tournament. They didn’t have an easy opening fixture to ease them into it. They would be playing Portugal in Salvador, situated in the hotter North East of Brazil. Portugal obviously had Cristiano Ronaldo, 29 years old and at the peak of his powers. The Portuguese made a mess of qualifying, needing to beat Sweden in the playoffs to book their ticket to Brazil. But this was still a serious team that should pose Germany problems.

Löw had decisions to make. Neuer was deemed fit enough to start in goal. Nominal right back Lahm, captain and key player of this team, had spent the past season playing as a defensive midfielder under Pep Guardiola at Bayern. With questions about Schweinsteiger’s form and fitness, Löw opted to play Lahm deep in midfield. That meant moving centre back Jerome Boateng, who had played so well all season, out to right back. Per Mertesacker – an outstanding defender in his own box but a worry in open space – partnered Mats Hummels at centre half. At left back, Erik Durm was never completely trusted by Löw, so natural centre back Benedikt Höwedes started there. Yes, that’s right, four centre backs. It didn’t sound like liquid football. Khedira, someone Löw definitely trusted even when not fully fit, played alongside Lahm in midfield.

In an ideal world, Löw knew what his front four would look like. Marco Reus would play on the left, cutting inside with his direct running. Thomas Müller would do what he does best on the right, interpreting the space and popping up exactly where Germany needed him. Mesut Özil would be the star number ten, drifting around and linking everything together as he does at his best. Mario Götze, the star in the making, would play as a false nine.

But we didn’t live in that world. Presumably, because he felt the team needed a little more control due to fitness shortcomings, or perhaps because no one else could offer the same quality as Reus, Löw picked a third central midfielder in Toni Kroos. He instead went for a narrow front three. On paper, it was Özil on the right, Götze on the left and Müller upfront, but in practice, they interchanged frequently. This wasn’t quite the German lineup anyone expected.

It didn’t take long to settle those German nerves. 11 minutes into the game, João Pereira clumsily brings down Götze in the box. Thomas Muller smashes the ball into the bottom left corner and Germany are up and running. From there, they didn’t have to work very hard. Without the ball, they generally sat deep and soaked up pressure, trying not to tire themselves out by pressing hard. When they had the ball, Portugal’s structure didn’t do much to nullify Germany, and they could move the ball through midfield nicely.

After half an hour, Mats Hummels leapt over everyone to meet a Toni Kroos corner and make it 2-0. All too easy. Then it got much easier. Noted kind gentleman Pepe decided to headbutt Müller and earn a straight red. I have no idea what he was thinking, but it ended the contest. Kroos put a lovely ball into Müller to make it 3-0 just before halftime. In 45 minutes, Germany had gone from pessimism to jubilation.

The second half was predictably pointless. Germany were happy to just keep the ball and run the clock down, while Portugal wanted the nightmare to end. Müller got his third after a well-worked sequence, and the world had lost interest. Germany had started the World Cup with a bang in the first half and that’s what mattered.

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Francis Fukuyama’s idea of “The End of History” has probably been misinterpreted by many, myself included. For the uninitiated, his claim was that, by the end of the Cold War, liberal democracy had “won” the battle of ideas forever. The Soviet Union’s failure showed everyone that there wasn’t a better idea coming than liberal democracy, and the grand march of history would see the rest of the world embrace this mode of governance as the drama and conflict of previous eras comes to a close. It’s a much less optimistic argument than many assume, with Fukuyama sincerely worrying that society will get “stuck” as no grand new ideas emerge. But the idea that stuck in the public consciousness was one of conflicts and strife slowly ending to form a new just society organised around liberal democracy.

That didn’t work out so well. But looking at the World Cup tournaments since the end of the Cold War, you can see the idea. The 1994 World Cup took place in capitalist America as all, including Russia, celebrated and accepted the terms of this new world. The 1998 World Cup saw the public of France embrace an ethnically diverse team that redefined what it meant to be French in the modern world. 2002 saw Japan and South Korea move past long-term political tensions to host a tournament together for the whole planet to enjoy. 2006 was about post-reunification Germany breaking past the negative perceptions around the world to show a forward-thinking and inclusive country.

2010 might have taken this further than any previous tournament. This was the first World Cup to be held in Africa, and the biggest sporting event to be held in South Africa since the end of Apartheid. I don’t want to be cynical about this because it genuinely felt transformative at the time. South African football journalist Melissa Reddy described the 2010 World Cup as “about hope and possibilities, inspiration and aspiration - the opportunity for millions to enjoy a once-in-a-lifetime experience, while colourfully crushing misconceptions about the country and the continent”. South Africa put on a terrific spectacle, totally upending the racist assumptions in the British press about how the tournament would fail. This was a world of new possibilities breaking free of the past divisions. This was the end of history.

On the pitch, it also felt like history was ending. After a century of tactical debates and arguing over which style of football would produce the best results, for a brief moment it looked like the sport had been solved.

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This is the fifth World Cup Flashback, a series looking at the tactics and approach of every World Cup winner since 1990.

When Germany hosted the World Cup in 2006, they wanted to show a different side of the country to the planet.

For decades, international perceptions of Germany had been shaped by World War II-era stereotypes and negative attitudes. The 2006 World Cup was Germany’s first event of this scale since reunification 16 years earlier, and it was a big chance to show off the country that many of its citizens believed it to be: modern, forward-thinking, and inclusive. The official tagline for the tournament was “a time to make friends”. How sweet is that?

In that sense, they smashed it. Germany felt a new confidence in itself as a nation. Other countries known for anti-German feelings started to see that things had changed. That was certainly the case in England, and I’d have to assume it was the same for another country that considered Germany its biggest football rival: Italy.

This was not supposed to be a golden era for Italian football. Serie A, by far the best domestic league in Europe during the late 1980s and most of the 1990s, had suddenly fallen behind Spain’s La Liga and England’s Premier League. The national team, too, had been something short of great. The Azzurri lost the Euro 2000 final on the golden goal rule and had slid backwards since, falling to South Korea in the Round of 16 at the 2002 World Cup, then getting going home at the group stage in Euro 2004. The Italians had fallen to 13th in the FIFA rankings. The “smart money” was on Italy suffering another disappointing early exit. While the Azzurri had three World Cup titles, only one had come since World War II, and that didn’t look like changing.

To make matters worse, at the very same moment, Italian football was blowing itself up in a corruption scandal. Half the squad were potentially seeing their clubs relegated from Serie A. And yet it didn’t matter. “I had a fantastic group of players”, manager Marcello Lippi claimed. “In a way, the Calciopoli scandal helped the team to become even more united.”

As for Lippi himself, he had all the experience one could ask for. A five-time Serie A winner, he was probably best remembered (before 2006) for the Champions League-winning Juventus side that could make life a nightmare for opponents. Italian managers, unlike those from most other countries, are expected to be able to coach a variety of different playing styles, and Lippi is no exception. “He worked before, during and after the revolution brought by Arrigo Sacchi”, James Horncastle explained. “His teams knew how to man-mark and to play zone. They invited opponents onto them and counterattacked but could also take the game to whoever they were playing and press them in their half of the pitch. Balance was everything. Lippi's starting XIs were never fixed. They were always in discussion and would be adapted according to the opposition.”

Even if this hadn’t been a successful time for Italian football, the players at Lippi’s disposal were very good. The eleven for the first match against Ghana was pretty star-studded. Juventus’ Gianluigi Buffon, just 28 years old but already over a decade into his senior career, was the goalkeeper. Fabio Cannavaro (32, Juvenus) was the captain and lynchpin centre back. For reasons we’ll get into, Alessandro Nesta (30, AC Milan) has been forgotten a little bit in the years since, but he was absolutely seen as one of the world’s best centre backs at this time. Cristian Zaccardo (24, Palermo) would probably prefer to play at centre back, but he was the kind of old-fashioned defender who could happily do a job on the right. Fabio Grosso (28, Palermo) was a reliable choice on the other side.

Italy used a diamond midfield. The regista at the base of the diamond was who else but Andrea Pirlo (27, Milan). We all know what he could do. To get the best out of Pirlo, you really needed two box-to-box options in front of him, and Italy had that with Daniele De Rossi (22, Roma) and Simone Perrotta (28, also Roma). In the trequartista role at the tip of the diamond was the team’s biggest star: Francesco Totti (29, Roma, but you already knew that). Totti had some injury troubles in the run-up to the tournament, but Lippi viewed him as absolutely essential, so he started. Alberto Gilardino (23, Milan) played upfront, and had scored more Serie A goals across the last three seasons than anyone else. He wasn’t the top scorer in the most recent season, though. That honour belonged to his Azzurri strike partner, Luca Toni (29, Fiorentina). Toni was a classic late bloomer, bouncing between divisions until he caught fire at Palermo before earning a move to Fiorentina. This team had firepower as well as solidity.

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This is the fourth World Cup Flashback, a series looking at the tactics and approach of every World Cup winner since 1990.

I wonder if anyone’s ever wanted to deliver at a World Cup more than Ronaldo Nazário in 2002.

At age 21, he was already the biggest star going into the tournament in 1998. He was having a good World Cup, scoring four goals on the way to the final and, in the words of Tim Vickery, “carrying a side that really weren’t that great”. Then he suffers freak seizures just before the final and plays a game in a situation where he’s clearly not right. The opportunity to write his name in the history books had been snatched from him.

He goes back to Inter and keeps scoring goals, albeit with some injury issues, until November 1999, when he suffers a complete rupture of his knee-cap tendons. It’s hard to describe just how brutal this injury was. He doesn’t start a competitive game for two years, half a season out from the next World Cup. He does impressively well in front of goal considering his time out, scoring seven times in 643 minutes in Serie A, but everyone can see that his lightning speed had gone. Ronaldo was still an excellent goalscorer, but he didn’t look like The Phenomenon, the single most exciting player on the planet.

Ronaldo went into the World Cup in Japan and South Korea needing to show everyone what he could still do. He had to prove that he hadn’t missed his one big chance to lift the World Cup. He had to fix the one bad day he had four years ago while also showing the planet that injuries hadn’t ended his prowess. There’s more to being the phenomenon than just being incredibly gifted. You have to do it when nothing has been going your way.

Brazil certainly needed Ronaldo. The injury caused him to miss the entire qualification campaign, and Vickery claims that “without him, Brazil were a shambles, fortunate even to get to the tournament”. They were in serious danger of failing to qualify, before manager Luiz Felipe Scolari came in with five games to go and just about squeaked them over the line. Brazil needed to get their act together.

The first game against Turkey posed a credible threat. No one knew it at the time, but Turkey would prove to have an excellent World Cup, so Brazil needed to be at it. Marcos of Palmeiras was in goal. Scolari opted for a back three this time, unlike his predecessors’ love of a 4-2-2-2 in the last two World Cups. 25-year-old Roque Júnior of AC Milan started as a centre back, alongside Lúcio (24) of Bayer Leverkusen and Edmílson (25) of Lyon. This meant more emphasis on letting Cafu (32, Roma) and Roberto Carlos (29, Real Madrid) get forward from wing-back. Brazilian football loves an industrious defensive midfielder, and Gilberto Silva (25, Atlético Mineiro) fit exactly that mould. Alongside him was someone very different in Juninho Paulista (29, owned by Atlético Madrid, but loaned out to various places). They were not a natural partnership, but had been forced together after Emerson (26, Roma) picked up an injury. Juninho would surely have preferred to play higher up the pitch, as more of a classic number ten.

He was never going to get a look-in, though, because the attacking options were so good. Rivaldo (30, Barcelona) had been one of the best attacking midfielders in the world for a number of years by now, even if his best years were arguably behind him. At the other end of the age spectrum was Ronaldinho (22, Paris-Saint Germain), who was just full of tricks and imagination. In Brazil, he often went by “Ronaldinho Gaúcho” to distinguish him from a certain other “little Ronaldo”.

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This is the third World Cup Flashback, a series looking at the tactics and approach of every World Cup winner since 1990. You can read the first two editions here and here.

We all look at the France side of 1998 with envy today, seeing those glittering star names, but it perhaps wasn’t seen that way before the tournament.

France hasn’t always enjoyed the same footballing success as some of its Western European peers. Les Bleus won their first significant title at Euro ‘84, played on home soil. France in that tournament were a Michel Platini-inspired delight, scoring a very impressive 2.8 goals per game. Platini himself – not even a striker – still holds the record for the most goals in a single European Championship tournament (nine), and this was back when only eight teams qualified.

France had sparkled in their own country before, but that had been the only thing worth celebrating. They didn’t even qualify for the 1990 and 94 World Cups meaning that, since they got to this one automatically as hosts, France hadn’t successfully navigated World Cup qualification for 12 years. In hindsight, Euro ‘96 was the start of the turnaround. New manager Aimé Jacquet didn’t have Eric Cantona due to suspension, so he began building the side around 24-year-old Bordeaux attacking midfielder Zinedine Zidane. Six of France’s starting eleven for the World Cup final started at least some of the games at Euro 96. Sometimes you can feel that a team is coming, even if they’re not quite there yet.

Jacquet thus came into the World Cup on home soil with a clear sense of his players and what he wanted to do. The first game against South Africa laid it out. Fabien Barthez of Monaco had become the established number-one goalkeeper after sitting on the bench at Euro 96. Parma’s Lilian Thuram was starting to earn his reputation as one of the world’s best right backs. Marcel Desailly had signed for Chelsea from AC Milan literally four days earlier and was right in his prime at age 30. Laurent Blanc of Marseille was a little older at 33, but had all the experience in the world. Bayern’s Bixente Lizarazu was an early frontrunner for the trend of attacking full backs, providing a perfect contrast to the more defensive Thuram on the other side.

Didier Deschamps of Juventus was the kind of defensive midfield “water carrier” the French have become global experts in. Next to him was another very good one in Arsenal’s Emmanuel Petit. Inter Milan’s Youri Djorkaeff played in a sort of right-sided role of a diamond midfield, but with more license to join the attack. Monaco’s Thierry Henry was part of the front two but clearly drifted out on the right to become a winger, alternating that role with Djorkaeff. Stéphane Guivarc'h might not be the greatest striker France has ever produced, but he found himself leading the line for his country anyway.

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This is the second World Cup Flashback, looking at how Brazil won the tournament in 1994. You can read the first edition, on West Germany, in 1990 here. This edition is free to read, but future entries will be for paid subscribers only. Join now to receive 20% off for a year.

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When the World Cup went to the United States in 1994, they wanted to create a spectacle.

The other two contenders to host the tournament were Morocco and Brazil. Morocco’s bid relied on the construction of a set of wholly new stadiums, obviously costing a pretty penny, while not offering a huge economic upside. Sepp Blatter was general secretary of FIFA by this point, so the organisation was not exactly transparent. The contest was really between two frontrunners.

You couldn’t pick a more obvious contrast. Brazil, the tournament’s three-time winners, had a footballing culture and history as good as anything on the planet. For those of us who primarily watch the European game, there’s something romantic about seeing that yellow shirt every four years. Brazil are the World Cup, and hosting the tournament for the first time since 1950 could be a real celebration of the history of the sport. There was a slight problem, though. The stadiums in Brazil, though large and historic, needed money spent on renovation. It wouldn’t be the most cost-effective option.

Enter America. The USA had without doubt the best sporting facilities in the world, perfectly suited to the modern TV-driven commercialised world. They could host the tournament tomorrow. The sport was not popular in the US. They didn’t even have their own domestic league at the time. But that was an opportunity as much as a crisis. The United States had the largest GDP in the world, by a lot. If that huge market of potential consumers could finally get into soccer, the financial rewards could be endless.

This was 1994, after all. The West had won the Cold War. Capitalism and liberal democracy had defeated all other ideologies. No, America might not have had the footing in the sport that other countries offered, but they had the cold, hard cash. This was the ‘90s. Ride the free market wave and take the World Cup to the US of A.

To make up for their lack of history, they had to put on a show. That was most obvious in the opening ceremony at Los Angeles’ Rose Bowl stadium, in which Diana Ross failed to kick the ball into an exploding goal as part of her elaborate music performance. It was obvious in the closing ceremony, in which Whitney Houston performed to 94,000 people in that same stadium and a surely delighted eight-year-old Wayne Rooney watching at home in Liverpool. But more importantly, the football had to deliver. The 1990 tournament four years earlier produced a record-low number of goals per game. If FIFA wanted to sell soccer to a sceptical American public, that would not do at all. They needed the stars to shine. They needed Brazil to turn up.

Brazil hadn’t turned up for a while. The incredible run from 1958-70 – in which the Seleção won three out of four World Cups – was 24 years ago. While they had remained competitive in the ‘70s, Brazil hadn’t come anywhere near lifting the trophy in ‘82, ‘86 or ‘90. Their 1989 Copa America win had been the only thing to celebrate, an unacceptably poor run for a country that goes into every World Cup expecting to win the whole thing. It had to change.

They had experience in the dugout. Carlos Alberto Parreira had one of the strangest coaching careers out there. Despite never playing professionally, Parreira had managed Ghana, Kuwait, the United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia by this point. This was even his second spell in charge of Brazil. He was an experienced and organised coach who, to the disappointment of the tournament organisers, would prioritise defensive solidity over joga bonito.

Fortunately, Brazil had the firepower upfront. Romário was at his absolute peak, 28 years old and coming off a season at Barcelona where he scored 30 goals in 33 La Liga games. Next to him was Bebeto, top scorer in the 1989 Copa America win. Zinho could offer something from the side, but this was otherwise a largely functional team, built around a combative central midfield of Dunga and Mauro Silva. Don’t tell anyone, but it was a little reminiscent of Argentina’s 1986 team, in which the aim was to defend and keep it tight before allowing Diego Maradona to just do his thing.

The rules had changed in the four years since West Germany won the trophy in Rome. The backpass rule was outlawed, arguably creating the game we know today (seriously, it feels so wrong watching goalkeepers just pick it up whenever they felt like it in old games). A win in the group stages was now worth three points, not two. The referees were told to be stricter on fouls, starting a trend that continues to this day.

The world had changed off the pitch even more. The Seleção were facing Russia, now an independent democracy away from the dissolved Soviet Union, in the newly formed nation-state’s first-ever World Cup game. The symbolism of Boris Yeltsin’s new capitalist Russia competing at the World Cup for the first time in the United States was obvious. The weather in a hot North American summer would obviously suit the Brazilians better than the Russians but, on that day, it was a perfect 23 degrees Celsius in Stanford, California.

Taffarel, then at Italian side Reggiana, started in goal. Vasco da Gama’s Ricardo Rocha and Bordeaux’s Márcio Santos were the centre backs, while right back Jorginho (not that one, this one played for Bayern) and left back Leonardo (the future PSG sporting director, not the painter or the actor, then of São Paulo) had licence to get forward as the midfield were so narrow. The aforementioned double pivot of Mauro Silva (Deportivo La Coruña) and Dunga (Stuttgart) was the bedrock allowing narrow “wingers” Raí (Paris Saint-Germain) and Zinho (Palmeiras) to link up with the front two of Romário (Barcelona) and Bebeto (Deportivo La Coruña). It really stands out that eight of the starting eleven were playing in Europe at this point. Of the whole squad, just under half were playing their club football in Brazil. That’s to be expected now, but it was a shock to the system at the time. As recently as 1986, Brazil had all but two members of their squad playing in the Brasileirão. The times, they are a-changin’.

Brazil easily dominated the early phases. Raí and Zinho came inside to form nice little passing triangles with the two strikers as the full backs overlapped. It was enjoyable and intricate football, of the sort you’d expect from the Seleção. But it took a scrappy goal for the breakthrough. Bebeto’s corner landed at Romário’s feet as Russia struggled to mark the striker, but he still needed an excellent first touch and cute finish to put Brazil ahead after 25 minutes.

Russia changed approach at half-time. Manager Pavel Sadyrin clearly instructed his players to try and get on the front foot much more often, and it initially worked. Russia dominated the opening period of the second half. It didn’t matter. Brazil launched a straight ball forward, which Romário controlled and then danced through the Russian defence before getting brought down in the box to win a penalty. The team wasn’t at it in that moment, but Romário delivered a moment of quality to put them back in control. Raí put the penalty in the bottom right corner and Brazil were cruising.

After that, we saw a sign of what’s to come. Disappointing any romantic (and often incorrect) notions of samba football, the Seleção sat in a deeper block to try and see things out. They did hit the strikers on the counter, but the second half was about sitting in and using defensive organisation. It worked, but it wasn’t sparkling to watch.

Next up was Cameroon, again in Stanford four days later. With their training camp just 17 miles away in Santa Clara, this schedule suited Brazil perfectly. Though, with Cameroon’s training camp about 50 miles away in Moraga, this wasn’t a huge advantage. It was the Indomitable Lions’ second consecutive World Cup, having made the quarter-finals in 1990. 24th in the FIFA rankings, they were clearly underdogs but capable of causing problems. Parreira made just one change, with Aldair of Roma replacing the injured Ricardo Rocha at centre back.

The system was exactly the same, for better or worse. Brazil stuck with their two industrious central midfielders who weren’t offering a lot in terms of progressing the ball. That meant they found it hard at times to break down a deeper block, until the front four were able to really link up. The problem is narrowness. All four attacking players are crammed towards the centre of the pitch, whereas the space against a low block is out wide. The full backs could’ve probably been more aggressive than they were to achieve this. Brazil were trying to move the ball quickly from back to front, but ended up with a lot of possession and few chances in the first half.

It’s always interesting watching these games before modern tactical innovations. Brazil were trying to play a transition game, but didn’t have the modern pressing structure to force transitions to happen. And when they had possession, they didn’t have a modern structure with the ball to exploit space. Still, it’s always fun to see those attackers link up.

The space they were waiting for eventually came. Cameroon’s defence got caught too high, allowing Dunga to play a through ball straight down the middle aimed at Romário running in behind. Romário was composed and clinical to put his team ahead. Again, Brazil weren’t perfect, but no one could cope with Romário. The Seleção went in 1-0 at half time without really having to be at their best.

Cameroon had to attack in the second half, which opened up space and created more transition opportunities for Brazil. The game effectively ended as a contest when Rigobert Song (yes, that one) got himself sent off for a cynical challenge. Straight after, Jorginho (this time exploiting the space out wide) put in a perfect cross for Márcio Santos to make it two. Brazil were now creating chances for fun. Bebeto scored from a tight angle and that was it, they had decimated Cameroon without really having to work for it.

Brazil were now certain to make the knockout stages. Winning the group was still up for grabs though, looking at the bracket, I don’t think it would’ve made a huge difference if they finished first or second. The third game against Sweden was over 2000 miles away in Michigan. Were I the Brazil manager, I would have definitely rotated heavily. Parreira, on the other hand, picked the exact same side that won against Cameroon.

Maybe it was the travel, or maybe it was just Sweden’s good organisation stopping them from getting into dangerous areas, but Brazil started sluggishly. They couldn’t work the ball into the final third, and could have no complaints when Kennet Andersson scored a brilliant goal on the half-volley 23 minutes in. Brazil just hadn’t turned up. Sweden were happy to just sit in and hold their lead for the rest of the first half, but Brazil never really broke them down. The Seleção went into half time without any real chances to score.

Once again, Romário decided to change things. At the beginning of the second half, he picked up the ball and just drove straight through Sweden’s defence to score. Once again, Brazil hadn’t even been very good, but Romário changed the game for them anyway. The team never really picked up after that, maybe because a draw suited both teams just fine. It wasn’t great, but it was enough.

The knockout stage awaited and Brazil, to their delight, were back in northern California within reasonable driving distance of the training camp. The lack of travel meant it would be like a home game for them at Stanford. Except for one small thing: they were playing the United States, the actual “home” team. The US had stumbled their way through Group A, so Brazil were clear favourites. Still, it was a different kind of test against a more partisan crowd.

Parreira made his big tactical tweak at this point: Mazinho for Raí. Mazinho, father of Thiago Alcântara, did not have his son’s technical skills. He was a more industrious option to offer discipline and solidity to the team. This was supposed to make the Seleção more suited to knockout football, even if they might become less fun to watch.

Brazil started very poorly. They were dominating possession comfortably, but the US seemed happy to sit deep and wait to counter. The Americans did break through and nearly scuffed it in after an attack down Brazil’s left flank. This was not composed or organised at all. After that, Brazil exerted much better control, and their best football of the first half came from the full backs pushing up and providing width. The US denied the transition moments where Romário would shine, frequently catching the Seleção offside, but Brazil adapted well and moved the ball out wide. With the midfield so narrow, Brazil really depended on those full backs. This would be entirely usual a decade on, but in 1994 it was relatively unusual. I criticised Brazil for being too narrow before this game, and Parreira made an intelligent change to push the full backs higher.

Then Brazil almost throw it all away. Frustrated that US midfielder Tab Ramos was trying to pull him back, Leonardo lashes out and smashes Ramos in the face with his elbow. It was a very dangerous challenge that saw Ramos hospitalised and Leonardo receiving a straight red. He could have absolutely no complaints. But Brazil hadn’t made their good period of football count, and now they were down to ten right before half time.

Parreira didn’t initially make any changes, instead moving Mazinho over to left back and giving the entire right flank to Jorginho. This actually worked really well for a time, with Jorginho’s crossing causing all sorts of problems for the US. Romário missed two huge chances created by Jorginho, once from a cross into the box and then from a floated ball in behind. Brazil were playing excellently considering the red card.

They finally did change things after 69 (nice) minutes, with Cafu (yes, that one) replacing Zinho. Cafu played on his unnatural side at left back, with Mazinho at left midfield. We all know Cafu is a great attacking threat, but using two right-footers on the left wasn’t going to be thrilling.

The goal came straight down the middle. Romário picked up the ball around the halfway line and, as he did so brilliantly, he drove through the whole US defence before picking out Bebeto to score from a tight angle. Once again, Brazil needed a saviour, and Romário provided all the quality. He had truly been carrying this Brazil side.

(I would post the goal straight into the newsletter here, but the brain geniuses at FIFA blocked me from doing that, so you’ll have to go to YouTube itself.)

From there, Brazil just had to not do anything stupid. There were actually a couple of risky moments but, for the most part, this was a controlled last 20 minutes. Quarter-finals, here they come.

Dick Advocaat’s Netherlands were the opponents. Well, it wasn’t supposed to be Advocaat’s team. Johan Cruyff had been widely expected to manage the Oranje for the 1994 World Cup, bringing all his total football ideas with him. But talks collapsed, and suddenly Advocaat was still in charge. Advocaat had been an assistant to Rinus Michels, the manager of that famous total football Netherlands side. To a modern audience, the most famous names in that team were Ronald Koeman, Frank Rijkaard, Marc Overmars and Dennis Bergkamp. The Netherlands were one place above Brazil in the FIFA rankings. This was a proper test.

Parreira, predictably, did not want to change his side too much. Leonardo was suspended thanks to that red card, so the experienced Branco replaced him. Otherwise, it was the same side, now more defensively solid with the addition of Mazinho in midfield.

The Netherlands pressed Brazil, which was a first in this tournament. They didn’t really have an answer to that problem and found it really hard to play through the press in the early stages. What they needed was a deep-lying playmaker who could pick out a pass and exploit the space higher up, but Brazil have lacked that profile for a long time. There weren’t many chances at either end in the first half, but it made for an interesting tactical conundrum.

It took them 52 minutes, but Brazil finally found the space the Netherlands left in behind. Aldair, deep in his own half, launched a long ball towards Bebeto, wide on the left on the shoulder of the last man. Bebeto then put in a low cross for Romário to apply a cute finish. It was a really well-worked move that totally opened up the Dutch high press.

As the Dutch pushed for an equaliser, they left more space in behind for Brazil to exploit. After a few decent chances, Bebeto exploited a total defensive brain fart to go straight through on goal against the ‘keeper. He didn’t miss. The Dutch defenders assumed the flag would go up as Romário was in an offside position, but forgot about the new rule that you’re only offside if you interfere with play. Bebeto and Romário showed everyone exactly why the game is so much better for ditching yer da’s beloved “what’s he doing standing there if he’s not interfering with play” interpretation.

It was worth the famous celebration. Just over an hour gone and Brazil were 2-0 up, playing excellently, and straight on their way to the final. But the euphoria didn’t last. Brazil’s defenders hadn’t switched on after the goal, so Bergkamp was able to float in behind them after a quick throw-in and apply a delightful finish from a tight angle. That Bergkamp lad might have a career in this game. Brazil just needed to concentrate and avoid doing anything stupid. They failed at that aim, but 2-1 was hardly a problem.

What came next wasn’t exactly controlled. Brazil failed to pick up Aron Winter at a corner, who then exploits that Taffarel is so far from his line and easily heads it home. They had thrown away a 2-0 lead in less than ten minutes. They got it back in five. Branco just smashed a free kick low and hard, in that sort of way nobody does anymore. It went straight in and, once again, Brazil just had to see it out. They did.

After heading across to Texas for that match, Brazil were in California for the semi-final against Sweden. The Seleção didn’t look like they had a clear idea of what to do against Sweden in the group stages, so this needed to be a better performance. Parreira named an unchanged team.

Sweden tried to keep it tight with two compact banks of four, but strangely found themselves too high up the pitch. Brazil were excellent in the first half, creating lots of good chances in transition where they should have scored. Again, Bebeto and Romário had an excellent understanding. I think something we’ve lost a bit in the modern game is the joy of a true strike partnership linking up. This was an excellent version of that.

Parreira was uncharacteristically bold, bringing on Raí for Mazinho. I don’t know if Mazinho was injured but, either way, it made the balance of the side more attacking. They kept playing every bit as well in the second half. This was a really dominant and mature performance from Brazil, looking better in just about every department. They got a huge advantage after 62 minutes when Jonas Thern made a stupid challenge and Sweden were down to ten, but finishing had evaded them so far.

No prizes for guessing who actually scored the winner. Jorginho, once again, was decisive in putting in a perfect cross for Romário’s head. Brazil had chance after chance, and fully deserved their lead, but it came late enough in the game that ten-man Sweden couldn’t really pose any problem. Brazil were into the World Cup final. It might not have been the perfect ideal of joga bonito, but it was very dominant and often entertaining. I’d argue with anyone who says this Brazil side were just boring and negative, even if it wasn’t always delightful.

Italy were the opponents. Italian club football was without question the best in the world at this time, and Italy’s starting lineup had 22 Serie A winners’ medals between them. The manager was Arrigo Sacchi, the visionary coach who oversaw a dramatic revolution of compact pressing systems in Italy. Six of the starting 11 had previously played for Sacchi at club level. This was a serious, serious football team.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before, but Parreira picked an unchanged team. FIFA, in their infinite wisdom, decided to play this match at 12.30 PM local time to cater for European TV audiences. This meant the game would have kicked off at 9.30 PM in Italy, which was perfect for those supporting at home but less so for the players. The game would be played in the midday Los Angeles sun, causing the kind of heat much more suited to those who grew up in Brazil.

Brazil dominated possession early on, but Italy were very disciplined. In their 4-4-2 shape, the Italians pressed in a mid-block, which ended up being just right to both disrupt Brazil’s build-up play and stop the attackers from finding space in behind. Their best chance in the early stages came from Jorginho finally getting into a position to cross the ball to Romário’s head, and the striker could have easily scored. Jorginho had really become the playmaker of this team, so of course he had to go off injured after 21 minutes. Cafu replaced him. To modern eyes, one might think that’s an upgrade but, as I keep saying, Jorginho had been exceptional throughout the tournament. If I’m ranking the most important players in this team, he comes in second behind Romário.

Still, Brazil were definitely on the front foot as Italy seemed to be happy to concede the ball. Italy had a few good moments in transition, but it was really Brazil who were trying to force the game and create chances. The pattern held in the second half. Brazil were really trying to do their thing and work those transition situations, but Italy weren’t giving them much to work with. I don’t know if the Azzurri had a plan for how they were actually going to score a goal, but they were doing an impressive job of shutting Brazil out without resorting to a catenaccio-style low block. It went to extra time with very little excitement in 90 minutes.

When a World Cup final, after a month of intense games in hot weather, goes to extra time, the players aren’t exactly going to be fresh. Brazil were leaving more gaps and nearly threw the whole final away after being so dominant. Fortunately, Italy looked just as shattered, and there were almost as many good chances in this half-hour as the entire 90 minutes of normal time. Neither side could quite put it together, though, and penalties beckoned.

Italy won the toss and took the first penalty. Captain Baresi stepped up and blasted it over the bar with a worse attempt than Diana Ross at the start of the tournament. Márcio Santos was up for Brazil. He went low and to his left, but the ‘keeper went the right way, and it wasn’t far enough in the corner to make it difficult. Straightforward save. Demetrio Albertini was next for the Italians. He went high and to the left. It wasn’t a great placement, but Taffarel guessed the wrong way so he scored regardless. Romário needed to equalise, and did, hitting it perfectly on the inside of the post. Unsaveable. Alberico Evani struck his very well, hitting almost the dead centre of the goal nicely to score for Italy. Branco went for one of those worryingly long run-ups and didn’t get much power on it, but the ball snuck in the bottom corner opposite to where the ‘keeper guessed anyway. Then came the turn. Daniele Massaro was nowhere near the corner, letting Taffarel make a comfortable save once he guessed the right way. Dunga then stepped up to hit it hard and low and put Brazil ahead. If Roberto Baggio missed, the Seleção had won the World Cup. He put it over the bar. Brazil had made it four World Cup titles.

The final was a dreadful, dreadful game of football. But that match aside, I do think Brazil played better football than people remember in 1994. No, it was not the ideal form of joga bonito. They were often pretty conservative in their midfield balance, but the flair was as important as the grit. Romário was sensational and had a great understanding with Bebeto, while Jorginho was a constant menace from right back. This was just a really good and balanced team.

24 years after that golden run of three World Cup wins in four tournaments, this return to the top arguably set the template for Brazil going forward. They would be physical and disciplined in midfield, rely on flair only in the final third, and have the solidity to compete with anyone. It was elements of good football built to win. Sometimes that would work tremendously well. Other times it would be a disaster. But right there in California in 1994, it had rebooted the Seleção. Brazil were back and certainly deserved their title.

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Note: I will be calling this team “Germany” for the most part, as the reunified German side is considered by FIFA to be the successor to this team rather than East Germany. But, yes, at the time they were formally referred to as “West Germany”.

On the 9th November 1989, the Berlin Wall came down.

Eight months later, and 750 miles (1200km) south, Lothar Matthäus lifts the World Cup.

“It was my job to prepare the team for this important game”, manager Franz Beckenbauer said of his team’s qualifier against Wales to be played on the 15th November, “but suddenly I couldn't concentrate anymore.

“We almost failed because of this wall”.

In the end, “West” Germany qualified for their last-ever tournament under that name on the night against Wales. In truth, they’d made a bit of a mess out of it. Two draws against the Netherlands was understandable, but dropping points away to Wales can’t be justified. In the end, they were bailed out by virtue of being one of the two best “runners up” in the UEFA qualification, saved by Denmark bottled it on their final matchday. The Danes get one more point in their group, and England add another couple to their goal difference, and Beckenbauer’s side wouldn’t have even made it to the tournament they were about to win.

Germany have always been, as they say, a “tournament team”. They might not look the part going in but, as the cliche goes, you can “never write them off”. The 1970s had been a real golden era, combining the World Cup win in 1974 with European Championship titles in 1972 and finally 1980. But since then, Die Mannschaft had become nearly men: they lost two successive World Cup finals in ‘82 and ‘86, which has to sting. Next, they were knocked out of the Euro ‘88 semi-finals by their arch-rivals the Netherlands with two late goals, turning around a match Germany had led for most of the 90 minutes. As close as they got, it was never enough.

Beckenbauer had been in charge for six years at this point. A veteran of the ‘74 champion side, Beckenbauer was a traditionalist when it came to German football. This later put him at odds with an emerging new wave, mocking Ralf Rangnick’s Arrigo Sacchi-inspired zonal pressing system in 1998, then expressing his distaste for Pep Guardiola’s positional play in 2014. But that was all to come. Back in 1990, the old-fashioned German methods still worked.

Maybe Beckenbauer came to distrust the new school because of his own playing career. Beckenbauer defined the libero role, going beyond the English term “sweeper” to be a free man with and without the ball, a playmaker too deep to be marked with the whole pitch in front of him. The tactical revolution in Germany led by figures like Rangnick and Jürgen Klopp would effectively kill off the position, but until then it was absolutely the cornerstone of German football.

The draw wasn’t too hard on Germany. Their first opponents were Yugoslavia (yes, this was a long time ago), who had failed to qualify for either of their previous two major tournaments. Yugoslavia’s manager Ivica Osim also favoured a back three system with a sweeper, so this was a game Germany could win primarily by simply having better players.

Beckenbauer played his conventional system. Bodo Illgner, at 23 years old, had emerged as a really exciting option in goal. Bayern’s Klaus Augenthaler was not the most prestigious name ever to play as Germany’s libero, but he was an experienced player at this point and could ping the ball from side to side as the position required. At centre back, Thomas Berthold of Roma was one of the numerous players based in Serie A at the time, while Stuttgart’s Guido Buchwald made up the back three. Stefan Reuter – another Bayern name – was playing at right wing-back while Andreas Brehme was the more exciting and attack-minded option on the other side.

In midfield, Thomas Haßler and Uwe Bein were primarily regarded as good passers, which complemented star man Lothar Matthäus nicely. Matthäus was everything a German midfielder was supposed to be: a strong and aggressive box-to-box player who can hit a powerful strike from range. Upfront, Rudi Völler was 30 years old and still in his prime. But the name you’re most likely to remember is his strike partner, 25-year-old Jürgen Klinsmann. The Inter striker was emerging as one of Serie A’s best forwards along with Völler. Serie A was so far ahead of every other league at this point, so that was saying something. Italy really was the perfect setting for this World Cup.

Germany struggled to break Yugoslavia down in the early going. Yugoslavia played a deep block and let Beckenbauer’s team move the ball from side to side without ever really creating any great chances. It took a brilliant Matthäus strike from just outside the box on the half-turn to change things. Once Germany got their first, things were more fluid. Yugoslavia gave them a little more space to attack into and they started playing some really enjoyable attacking football. Ten minutes later, Klinsmann doubled their lead with a brilliant diving header at a tight angle from Brehme’s low cross. This typified a lot of Germany’s play, which involved heavy use of the wing backs as everyone else made pretty vertical runs towards the box.

Germany dominated after half-time, though Yugoslavia got one back from a set piece against the run of play. But Germany didn’t get rattled in the slightest. They kept attacking and scoring in the same way: first from Mahhäus driving forward and scoring another trademark strike from range, then from Brehme shooting in a wide area that allowed the ‘keeper to parry it for a Völler tap in. Wing-backs putting the ball in dangerous areas, strikers in the box, Matthäus driving forward. Rinse and repeat. Germany were well worth their 4-1 victory.

Obviously happy with what he saw, Beckenbauer picked an unchanged team for the second game against the United Arab Emirates. This was the UAE’s first and, as it stands, only World Cup appearance. Only two Asian teams qualified for the tournament in 1990, and no one expected much. The entire squad played their club football in what was then called the UAE League. They were notably managed by Brazillian Carlos Alberto Parreira, in the middle of a nomadic career that saw some incredible highs (more on that next time) and a willingness to work anywhere around the world. This was already his sixth international job, after managing Ghana, Kuwait, a first spell with his native Brazil, a first spell with the UAE, a brief switch to Saudi Arabia and then returning to the UAE. With prior World Cup finals experience, he had the tools to make it difficult for Germany.

But he didn’t. The idea was sound, though straightforward. The UAE would sit deep without the ball and soak up pressure. Simultaneously, they wouldn’t be shy about making some nasty challenges. A classic David against Goliath approach. It did force Germany into the infamous passing U-shape, to which they would play the ball across the back line and to the wing backs without getting the midfielders involved. But it didn’t stop them from creating chances. Germany’s go-to approach of putting crosses in for the strikers and running midfielders – often creating things through knock-downs – worked a treat here again. They didn’t score until the 35th minute, but they were creating from the off.

The opener came just as you’d expect: from a wide area. Reuter played a ball straight down the line to Klinsmann, who had drifted out to the right, and then passed it square for a Völler tap-in. They almost instantly made it two, with Reuter putting in a cross, and Klinsmann this time finishing it with a header from deep in the box. They totally switched off at the start of the second half to concede a poor goal, but otherwise, Germany were cruising. They scored three more, with one each for Matthäus and Bein before Völler finished it off with his second. It was easy.

Germany were all but sure to qualify before the final group stage game against Colombia, but still felt there was enough to play for to pick a strong team. Hans Pflügler came in for Brehme in the only change. Colombia were a better side than the UAE or Yugoslavia, with Carlos Valderrama the most familiar name to modern eyes. This was much more of a test. Both sides had chances throughout but it took until the 88th minute for substitute Pierre Littbarski to break the deadlock, hitting it with a powerful left foot on his natural side after being slid in by Völler. Freddy Rincón equalised in injury time, but it didn’t matter to Germany. They were through as group winners regardless.

Ask any German who they’d most like to beat in a major tournament knockout game and the answer will invariably be the Netherlands. Their previous World Cup win came by beating the Dutch in the final, in which Beckenbauer himself featured as the functional Germans defeated Johan Cruyff et al’s Total Football. The Oranje weren’t lacking for star power. The most famous names to modern eyes would be centre backs Ronald Koeman and Frank Rijkaard, along with Marco van Basten and Ruud Gullit higher up the pitch. The Dutch had won Euro 88 two years earlier and could probably be called the favourites for this game.

Beckenbauer made some key changes. Brehme returned at left wing-back in place of Plügler. Bein and Häßler were both dropped from midfield, to be replaced by Buchwald stepping up from centre back and Littbarski. Jürgen Kohler took Buchwald’s old centre back spot.

As you’d expect for a high-stakes game between fierce rivals, the opening was intense. The crowd were up for it, both teams wanted to get on the front foot, and challenges were flying in. Lord knows how many players would pick up cards if this was refereed to modern standards. For the sake of the narrative of this article, I really want to say the Dutch played a fluid brand of exciting football against Germany’s pragmatism. But that’s not really what was happening. The Netherlands were a little more technical and tried to move the ball through midfield in a slightly more progressive way. But these are minor differences. Both teams were primarily focused on aggression in the opening stages. This was blood and guts football.

Then they took it even further. Völler was chasing towards the box when Rijkaard made a cynical challenge from behind. It would be a straight red today, but in 1990 it only warranted a booking. The two players were exchanging some pretty nasty words, and Völler quickly got booked for petulance himself. Less than a minute later, Völler goes down in the box and the referee – for reasons I do not understand at all – sends him off. Rijkaard confronted Völler and too found himself sent off. The situation was so bizarre that I find it hard to describe.

You don’t get many games where both sides have to play for over an hour with ten men. I don’t imagine many coaches have spent time training players for that scenario. But it’s what we had on show here.

Here’s the thing about ten vs ten matches: they are awesome and should be encouraged as much as possible. Both teams had so much space to attack into, leading to a very open and exciting game. There wasn’t much tactical cohesion here, but it was certainly exciting and intense.

Germany were happy to let the Dutch have the ball at the start of the second half while threatening on the break. One of their best chances came from a fast counter with Klinsmann drifting wide to put in a cross for Matthaus to just head over. This was really a star showing for Klinsmann. Playing as the lone striker, he was having to do it all, holding the ball up and working the channels while also providing the goal threat. This game is probably his most famous for Die Mannschaft and it’s easy to see why. He did it all himself. It’s common in the 21st century to see lone strikers play like this, but back in 1990 it was genuinely unusual.

He got his reward after 51 minutes. In typical style for this team, it came from the flanks. Buchwald found himself out on the left and drove forward to put in a low cross. Klinsmann used all those natural striker instincts to sniff out a scruffy goal and applied a cute finish right at the near post. I don’t speak any German, but I don’t think I need a translation for the German-language broadcast commentators screaming as it went in. 1-0 to Germany against their defining rivals.

The Dutch really threw everything at it after that. Again, I must admit I was disappointed by the Netherlands here. This was far from the Total Football ideals, without any clear emphasis on pressing or fluidity. They were just throwing the kitchen sink at it. Germany still looked more of a threat breaking forward than the Netherlands ever did despite having most of the ball.

Then the game was won. The ball fell to Brehme on the edge of the box, and he just struck the ball perfectly, bending it right into the corner. There isn’t a tactical spin on this one. It’s one of those moments where the ball just goes in the back of the net.

The Dutch did get one back through a very soft penalty, but it didn’t matter. It was too late. Germany were heading to the quarter-finals.

The quarter-finals brought Czechoslovakia for their last-ever major tournament appearance. Both the Czech Republic and Slovakia would make separate World Cups in the future, but this was it for the combined former state. The Czechoslovaks had missed out on the 1986 World Cup as well as Euro 88, so we weren’t talking about a footballing powerhouse here. The side was evenly split between those playing their trade in the old Czechoslovak league and those playing abroad.

Beckenbauer wasn’t about to mess with a winning formula, but some minor tweaks were needed. Völler was suspended, so in came Karl-Heinz Riedle upfront alongside Klinsmann. Reuter dropped out for Bein in a minor tactical reshuffle. It was generally business as usual.

This game was not a classic. Germany dominated the opening period easily, again moving the ball from side to side in their usual attacking patterns. They had plenty of shots, but the breakthrough came after 25 minutes when Klinsmann gets brought down in the penalty area. For all his reputation as a diver, there was no doubt this was a penalty. Matthäus takes the penalty, going low and hard as the ‘keeper guesses the wrong way. 1-0 to Germany. All they needed to do was hold it, and they did. This really was the “efficient” Germany stereotype that has died off in an era of gegenpressing. Job done, and let’s never talk about the game again.

When people remember this World Cup in England, there’s only one match they think of. Part of the impetus for writing this was to push beyond that notion and try to understand the tournament from a different perspective. For a generation of English football fans slightly older than me, the World Cup memory is of seeing the Three Lions fall on penalties in this match.

England had become suspiciously “German” in their approach. Bobby Robson’s team were playing a sweeper at the back, with the two other centre backs man marking Germany’s strikers. This was not the way English football generally did things. Beckenbauer meanwhile made three changes. He switched things up in midfield, having Haßler and Olaf Thon replace Littbarski and Bein. Völler, of course, came back in to partner Klinsmann upfront, though injury decided he would only make it 38 minutes before Riedle had to replace him.

This was a strange game by modern standards. Neither team had any interest in pressing to win the ball back. Even your “Mourinho masterclass” park the bus sides press more than this today. When either side had the ball, they were under no pressure by the opponent. And both teams wanted to get it up the pitch quickly. So you had a game with a lot of transitions and turnovers, but almost no pressing.

Germany were marginally better for most of the game. England worked the ball into the final third well but, once they got there, they had Gary Lineker upfront alone against three German defenders. It took an hour, and it had a huge element of luck, but Germany did find themselves ahead. They had a free kick just outside the area, and gently slide it for Brehme to just whack it as hard as he could. You don’t see that routine so often today. It should have just crashed into England’s wall. But Paul Parker rushes to block the shot and the ball deflects off his foot, bending wickedly over Peter Shilton’s head and into the goal. If you were a believer in fate, you would’ve said that Germany were destined to win the World Cup with luck like that.

The players didn’t act like it. Germany allowed England to dominate straight after the goal, conceding plenty of good chances for the equaliser. I don’t know whether it was nerves or overconfidence or something else, but they just started to play within themselves. England get their goal by imitating Germany. They get it wide to Parker, who puts in a floated cross that causes chaos in the box. The German defenders make a mess of it, giving room for Lineker to score one of his trademark scruffy finishes. Both sides then pushed for a winner, but we were heading for extra time.

In moments like this, you really understand how much football has changed in 32 years. Germany had made two changes coming into extra time while England had made just one. Neither team made another substitution. In the modern game, sides would be using all six of their available subs in that situation, desperate to get fresh legs on the pitch. But here we were in 1990, before modern sports science took hold, and they just stuck with what they had for two hours. And this showed in the football. Neither team could really have the energy to do anything other than thump it long and hope. Germany really should’ve won it with a few good chances Klinsmann missed.

Penalties are another thing that feel like a different sport in 1990. Every player for both countries just hit it hard and hoped. As it was, Illgner got the better of England when Stuart Pearce hit it straight at him. Germany were through to another World Cup final. While I don’t think they deserved to lose any of the knockout games, they hadn’t really sparkled much. This was a war of attrition and they made it to the big game.

Once they got there, they had the very small matter of Diego Maradona to deal with. Germany had lost to Argentina in the World Cup final four years earlier, in a game where Maradona didn’t shine but still produced a lot of quality for others to deliver. This was both revenge for Germany and a chance to finally end the streak of missing out at the last moment. This was rewriting history.

The final had an interesting tension. The Italian neutrals at the Stadio Olimpico in Rome that day would naturally dislike Germany, one of the country’s fiercest footballing rivals. But Maradona had become the most hated man in Italy following his exploits for Napoli, and raised tensions after he led Argentina to knock out the Azzurri in the semi-finals. FIFA could not have picked a more unpopular final for those in the host nation.

To do this, Beckenbauer made just one change, with Littbarski replacing Thon as expected. Argentina manager Carlos Bilardo also favoured a back three. He played a sort of 3-5-1-1, with a tight midfield three protecting the back line and Maradona buzzing around striker Gustavo Dezotti. Bilardo’s plan was the same as it had been four years ago: defend deep, keep it as tight as possible, then give it to Diego.

The final is remembered for being terrible. I don’t disagree. Germany did at least show some impetus, whereas Argentina had no real ideas. They were creating chances through their usual route of the wing backs time and time again, though without a truly golden opportunity. I think most would agree, though, that only one side really tried to play football.

Their work paid off right towards the end, when Roberto Sensini made a clumsy challenge on Völler in his own box. It was hardly a brilliant goalscoring opportunity, so I don’t understand why Sensini took the risk. Reports from the time say the decision was contentious, which shows you how far refereeing has come. To my eyes watching in 2022, it’s a penalty. Brehme’s spot kick was pretty tame, but he got it in the bottom corner and the goalkeeper was too slow to move. That was all it took, and West Germany had won the World Cup for their third and final time before reunification.

Was this a great World Cup-winning side? No. I understand why there hasn’t been a great deal written in English about the football on display. There’s a reason everyone outside of England considers the 1990 World Cup to be among the worst of all time. But this was a side of old-fashioned values, winning the World Cup in a traditional German way. The next time Germany would win the competition, it would be as a new country, with new impetus and ideas, playing a new type of football. This, in 1990, was the old way. This was football. It would never be the same again.