Going strong since 1960, the European Championships – or Euros – haven’t always been the swaggering commercial beast they are today. Some of the teams featured in the early tournaments don’t even exist any longer.
The 1960 tournament, hosted by France, was won by the Soviet Union, a country which no longer exists, who beat Yugoslavia, another country which no longer exists, in the final.
Countries from the former Eastern Bloc (in other words, countries that no longer exist) featured prominently in the opening tournaments with Yugoslavia playing hosts Italy in the 1968 final. The match finished at 1-1 and went to a replay (how quaint is that?) before Italy, a country who do still exist, eventually won the tournament 2-0.
Yugoslavia were the hosts eight years later, the last time the Euros featured only four teams, with Czechoslovakia, a country who no longer exists, beating West Germany, another one of those countries that are no more, 5-3 on penalties in the final.
If we remember little of the football from those early years, at least the Euros offer us a lesson in evolving European geography. The story of the changing map of Europe is best told by temporarily suspending the Jude Bellingham mania, and taking a careful look at the 1992 event in Sweden, a competition which in those days was still confined to eight teams.
Not wanting to be accused of hubris, the Swedes’ motto for the 1992 tournament was “Small is beautiful”. Not wanting to be accused of hyperbole, poetic license or creativity set wildly free, the tournament mascot, a rabbit, was called – I’ll give you one guess – “Rabbit”.
Pipping Spain for the right to host the tournament, the Swedes offered four venues for the two weeks-long event. The capacity of one of them was (by today’s gigantic standards) a meagre 23 000. The Swedes could hardly be accused of not delivering on their mandate, keeping things in proportion and – to use a football metaphor I’m sure you’ve heard before – getting too big for their boots.
Until very late in the piece, neither they nor the Union of European Football Associations (UEFA) knew, however, who would be visiting them or in which form. This was because of the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989. Let me explain.
As a result of the wall’s fall, Germany became re-unified but the USSR and her former allies careered off in the opposite direction, splintering into any number of nation states and ethnic enclaves that had kept their identity alive through the years of Communism.
In Germany’s case, the issue was straightforward, with East and West fusing to form a united Germany. In the case of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, however, matters were tricky. The USSR qualified for the 1992 Euros as the USSR, but so fast was the pace of political change that she was no longer called the USSR by the time of the tournament.
In the end, she competed as the Commonwealth of Independent states, team which featured Russians, Ukrainians, Uzbeks and Armenians amongst other nationalities, but which didn’t feature Estonians, Latvians or Lithuanians.
The Commonwealth of Independent States team – represented by a white flag on which the blue letters C, I and S were superimposed – competed in Group 2 alongside the Netherlands, now-united Germany and Scotland.
Their heady interim flag in sexy blue and white clearly didn’t have the desired inspirational effect. They finished last in their group with two draws and a loss. It was, results-wise, a bit of a Gulag.
Then there was the pressing matter of Yugoslavia. Playing as Yugoslavia, the Yugoslavs had topped their qualifying group for the 1992 Euros, beating Denmark into second place by a point.
Ten days before the finals were due to kick off in Sweden, however, and with Yugoslavia already in Sweden preparing for the competition, UEFA, acting upon Security Resolution 757 of the United Nations, decided to ban Yugoslavia from the competition.
Resolution 757 was an extension of a previous UN Resolution, Resolution 752, which was “deeply concerned” about the Serbian military’s involvement in the war in Bosnia Herzegovina.
We don’t know this for sure, but the UN’s muscle was probably also sharpened by an incident on May 4, 1992, in which a member of UN’s monitoring mission in the former Yugoslavia was killed, as well as the deteriorating situation in Bosnia Herzegovina for UN peace-keepers generally.
These were the days, I feel compelled to mention, when the UN actually had boots on the ground in regional conflicts. It was a time where they felt compelled to intervene as buffers in the horrendously messy business of ethnic and religious wars.
While Yugoslavia was banished from the Euros, with Denmark taking her place, there was an Alice-in-Wonderland-ish element to this all. Slovenia and Croatia became independent of Yugoslavia in 1991, the previous year, so, by 1992, the very idea of Yugoslavia was moot.
Here was a country in name only who haemorrhaged some of her constituent parts. It raised both practical and philosophical questions, such as: “When is a country no longer a country? And under what conditions can a country continue to be called a country?”
So, Yugoslavia’s invitation to Sweden’s “Small is Beautiful” Euros was revoked and the competition became momentarily smaller – by one team – before it was restored to its fighting size with the addition of those lucky Danes.
Denmark had beaten Yugoslavia once and lost to Yugoslavia once in their qualifying group. They finished second by virtue of dropping a point to Northern Ireland and, were offered Yugoslavia’s place.
Stories about Danish players lounging on the beach sipping Daiquiris doing the crossword when they heard the news of their late inclusion are, I hasten to add, apocryphal. It is true, however, that Michael Laudrup, their best player, spent the Euros faraway from Sweden – in a strop.
Laudrup, according to many the best player Denmark has ever produced, was no fan of Danish coach, Richard Möller Nielsen. He argued that Nielsen was defensive-minded, and much preferred his predecessor, the German, Sepp Piontek.
Let’s be clear, Laudrup wasn’t at this stage some scandalously talented teenage upstart with peroxide hair and tattoos on his neck. He’d made his international debut as an 18 year-old way back in 1982.
By the time of the 1992 Euros, he was 28, with ten years of European football with Lazio, Juventus and Barcelona under his belt. His opinion counted for something.
This is true, although it is also true that, then as now, opinions are but opinions, mere chaff in the winds of public opinion. Nonetheless, the optics of Laudrup’s non-appearance weren’t good. All the more so because he spent the tournament on holiday in the USA.
Laudrup was not alone in his views. They were shared by Pieter Schmeichel, the Danish goal-keeper. Still, the majority of the Danes realised that they shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, even if this took the form of a tournament the import of which was deliberately downplayed so as not to cause offense.
And the mascot for which was a rabbit called “Rabbit.”
The day after Sweden and France had played out a 1-1 draw in Solna, Denmark played out a 0-0 draw with Gary Lineker’s England, giving them a point in their first game. For the Danes, John Jensen hit the upright, Schmeichel making one fine reflex save and bungling another, although the bungle didn’t result in a goal.
As the final whistle was blown by the Dutch referee, some of the Danish players celebrated, although not everyone was satisfied. One of their players, Fleming Poulsen, for example, said rather sniffily: “I’m told we have the best goalkeeper in Europe – I wonder why we didn’t bring him along.”
The second round of matches in Denmark’s group saw France and England draw 0-0, a potentially promising result for the Danes if they could beat Sweden. It wasn’t to be. Sweden’s Thomas Brolin scored in the second-half against them as the Danes lost their second match 1-0 to the hosts.
After two matches, they had one point. It looked suspiciously as if they were homeward-bound. Michael Laudrup must have felt vindicated while on holiday on the other side of the Atlantic.
One the eve of their third group match against France in Malmo, the Danes all went out. In an evening of crazy abandon – they played putt-putt. Either that or they went all out and played putt-putt. Whichever it was, the course was small and the balls smaller – and the evening did big things for team morale.
On the day of the match, facing his Waterloo, Nielsen re-jigged the Danish formation, making it more attacking. In his new attacking role, Hendrik Larsen, formerly of Pisa and later of Aston Villa, scored first. France equalised but Lars Elstup scored again for the Danes 12 minutes from time.
With Sweden beating England (the game, incidentally, that put pay to Gary Lineker’s international career), the two Scandinavian sides emerged top of the group. Not bad for a team who weren’t meant to be in Sweden at all.
The Danes were drawn against the Netherlands, the 1988 European Champions, in the semi-finals, with the Swedes drawing the Germans in the other half of the draw. Even from a distance of nearly 30 years, it’s frightening looking back at the Dutch team of the period.
Marco van Basten. Ruud Gullit. Ronald Koeman. Frank Rijkaard. Dennis Bergkamp. Neither was their bench too shabby either, upon which sat a variety of substitutes with very short names: the Wims, Kieft and Jonk, Danny Blind and Aron Winter, a player who we will hear more about as this podcast unfolds.
The Danes got off to the best possible start. Michael’s younger brother, Brian, weaselled into space on the by line and, from and acute angle, managed a deft cross that just eluded a jumping Hans van Breukelen in the Dutch goal. Larsen, alert to possible opportunity behind the ‘keeper, pounced on the delicate cross and headed the ball over the line.
On the half-hour, Bergkamp fired a diagonal shot from some way out at Schmeichel. The great Dane seemed both unsighted and slow to get down; for once he looked clumsy as the ball squeezed beneath him for the Netherlands’ first goal in a tournament in which they’d struggled to score.
Larsen scored again before the half was out, pouncing on a weak defensive header from Koeman and it was all the Danes in the first-half. Come the second, and the Netherlands began to wrestle the initiative back. Rinus Michels, their coach, made substitutions that had a positive effect, on coming Kieft.
Gullit forced Schmeichel into an inspired save with a thunderous left-footed shot. The Netherlands prodded and probed, looking for an opening.
They found their equaliser late, in the 86th-minute, to be precise. It came from a corner, which was poorly dealt with by the Danish defence, Rijkaard pouncing on a ball that was waiting to be cleared. His goal made it 2-2. The match went into extra-time.
It was the Schmeichel Show in additional time. He was commanding. He was prepared to sprint off his line. In the first period of extra-time he made one fine save after a Roy volley from close. It kept his side in the game. So the match stumbled towards penalties.
Van Basten was not at his best for the Netherlands during the 1992 Euros. His reputation was large and he was watched, sometimes carefully, sometimes unfairly. Refereeing was more lenient in the early 1990s. At one point during the game it looks as though Van Basten is on the cusp of retaliating after one particularly crunching tackle, but Gullit, who is close by, has a word and steers him away from trouble.
Whether the attentions of the Danish midfielders had anything to do with Van Basten’s state of mind will forever remain speculation, but we can say for sure that his penalty in the shootout was saved. Koeman scored his for the Netherlands; Van Basten took their second.
He hit it low to Schmeichel’s left and the Dane saved. Everyone after Van Basten on either side succeeded with their penalties. So it was left to the left-footed Kim Christofte to take Denmark’s fifth kick – if he scored, it would make the taking of the Netherlands’ fifth kick redundant after Van Basten’s spot-kick had been saved.
Christofte, a utility player, famous for his nonchalance, stepped up with a short run up and caressed the ball past Van Breukelen as though he was potting a pool ball in the corner pocket.
It was his finest hour, although it was only a moment. Then again, it might have been singularly more than a moment, given that it was a moment that seems to have lasted forever. Lasting forever is so long that it means lasting a lifetime, which isn’t bad, given that, rremember, we’re only talking about a moment.
Whether it was a moment, a finest hour or a lifetime, Christofte’s kick has held him in pretty good stead. He only played for Denmark 19 times, with middling periods abroad, but now he was in the finals of the European Championships, on the cusp of immortality.
Small was indeed beautiful, or was small beautiful indeed?
The Danes played Germany in the final, who beat hosts Sweden 3-2 in the semi-final, a match whose score-line gives the impression of being closer than it was.
The final is remembered for many things, but most of all it is remembered for the purple and yellow tracksuit top Germany coach Berti Vogts wore on the touchline. While watching the highlights packages you want to watch the action – to replay the two Danish goals – but so mesmerising is Vogts choice of touchline wear that your eye keeps on being drawn back to the sartorial horror.
Gallingly, Vogts seems unconcerned. It’s almost as if he’s daring you to be outraged. He watches the action before him, concentrating, apparently unaware of the faux pas on his shoulders.
On closer examination we realise that – unconscionably – the German coach’s purple and yellow top has elbow pads. These are yellow. A mocking yellow. It casts a blight on an otherwise festive occasion and happy day.
But maybe not such a happy day for Vogts, however, because Jensen opened the scoring for Denmark, the side who shouldn’t have been there in the first place. On the replays, the situation looks innocuous, as if there’s nothing on. Clearly, however, Jensen sensed something was on, because he fired a crisp shot from the German left inside of German goal-keeper. Bodo Illgner’s left-hand upright. It was a smart, slight opportunistic and precious goal, a very “on” goal for an on-form player.
The Danes are usually typecast the melancholy men of Europe, but their commentary team certainly enjoyed the spectacle. There’s a sample of their elation right here as they come to terms with their surprise after Jensen’s strike.
As Denmark held onto their 1-0 lead as the half wound down, the German coach got up off his chair. This afforded him a better view of the action. It also afforded us a better view of his bilious track-suit top. The teams went into the break with Denmark the Jensen goal to the good.
Despite some over-zealous tackling by the Danish defenders, the Danes protected their lead in the second half. In goal, Schmeichel was imperious. Nothing got past him. At one point, when dealing with a cross, gibbon-like, he stuck out a big right-hand paw, and he caught the cross one-handed. Some days are like that.
Nothing gets past you – and there’s nothing you can do to score a goal.
Later in the half, against the run of play, Kim Vilfort grabbed Denmark’s second. His shot deflected off the German upright to achingly cross the German goal-line. Again the Danish commentators dispensed with their customary reserve and gave it all they had. Here they are again, jumping up and down on their seats as though Father Christmas has just walked into the room with a sack full of marzipan biscuits.
Denmark held on to their lead, Vogts held on to his purple and yellow top and the Danes held on to their fairy tale. We don’t know this for sure but over in the US of A, Michael Laudrup felt like a bit of a plonker.
Some Danish scribes have said they doubt Denmark would have won the Euro in 1992 with him, which seems a counter-intuitive statement at first glance. The argument is that with Michael Laudrup in the team, they would have been more dynamic, but with him out of it they were forced to be defensive, relying more on counter-attack to score them goals. An interesting thought. We’ll never know either way.
What we do know with greater certainty is that the victory was savoured in Denmark, a sweet win made sweeter by the fact that it was against arch-foes Germany in Sweden, so many Danish fans could easily make the trip.
We can also safely say – not with complete certainty – but safely so, that the likes of a Danish victory in the Euros represents a moment that won’t be repeated. Denmark are at this year’s Euros in Germany, as are the Germans, of course, but European football power and excellence has hardened and narrowed in the last 20 years.
It is difficult to see this year’s winner, for example, not coming from France, Spain or Germany, with good outside bets coming from England, Portugal and, remotely, Italy, with teams like Austria and Switzerland likely to be there of thereabouts come the quarter-finals.
It’s interesting, too, to reflect on the fact that geography in the European game has finally become determining. We talked at the beginning of this podcast teams participating in the previous editions of the Euros no longer existing.
In a manner of speaking, teams in this year’s competition who are geographically remote – think Ukraine, Turkey, Scotland – in relation to a European core, no longer exist as plausible contenders as competitions winners.
This is because football money, knowhow, tradition and facilities, in a nutshell, power, is concentrated somewhere just north of the French border. Munich, for the sake of convenience, might well be the epicentre of the European game. The further you are from Munich, the less likely you are to win a Euro of a Champions League.
Football has changed in other ways since the Euros of 1992. There was far more speculative shooting in those days, for one. Tackling was often bone-crunching by today’s standards and there wasn’t as great a premium placed on possession at all costs. The press – and the high press – wasn’t quite as in vogue. One can’t easily see sluggish but gifted defenders like Koeman making a go of it in today’s game.
With an increased emphasis on speed, possession, athleticism and – it must be said – histrionics, today’s game is also apparently more predictable. Is this strictly-speaking true? Didn’t Greece win in Portugal 12 years later with a hard-running team with names many of us struggled to pronounce? Maybe the reflex to generalisation is too easy?
Maybe this year’s winner will come from an unknown quarter? Romania have started well. Georgia looked plucky in their defeat by Turkey. Slovakia looked accomplished in holding onto their 1-0 lead against Belgium, a team who history seems to have passed by.
The Turks can play, although I think we can be reasonably safe in suggesting that after their horrendous opening against Germany, Scotland will not be on the winner’s podium come the middle of July.
And they’re not even that far away from Munich.
