None Shall Sleep in Italia ‘90

After Mexico in 1986 Italy were the next team to host the World Cup for a second time, hoping to match their ancestors who had hosted and won the tournament for the first time in 1934.

A lot had happened prior to the 1990 World Cup with Chile being banned from taking part when their goalkeeper faked injury from a firework during a qualifying match and FIFA lighting blue touch papers across Spain when England were seeded ahead of them despite recent World Cup performances. The Spanish claimed it was to ensure that England and their fans would play in Sardinia rather than the Italian mainland. Our view was that they had perhaps drunk too much of their cheap wine and were behaving badly as a result.

My own days of behaving badly with Huw were well over by 1990 and I was beginning to get over the death of Elizabeth as well. I had a met a beautiful girl called Michelle towards the end of 1986 and the following year we had our first holiday break away together in Littlehampton on the south coast.

Three days previously my friend Mark (who was feeling quite lonely these days, having finished with the girlfriend he had ‘phoned so often from Ireland) and I had visited Selhurst Park to see Leeds United lose the first leg of that year’s Division 2 Play-Off Final to Charlton 1.0.  

The second leg was played while Michelle and I were in Littlehampton. Obviously, we spent that evening entering late-night shops and bars to hear snatches of the live radio commentary on the game and, when Leeds had safely won 1.0, I proposed. Thankfully she didn’t need extra time to accept.

Leeds lost the resulting Play-Off match and remained in the Second Division though Billy Bremner had built a fine attacking team that also got to the FA Cup semi-final that year. However, Howard Wilkinson took over as manager shortly afterwards and presided over a team that would fight on the beaches of Bournemouth – just along from Littlehampton – and finally climb back into Division One just before the 1990 World Cup began.

Michelle and I had got married two years previously and Tim was my Best Man; I had done the same for him when he married Carol just after the 1986 World Cup. We watched the England v Holland game at a party at his house in Northborough, which ended 0.0 but with all of my old school acquaintances wondering whether Bryan Robson could become an international ambassador for BUPA; and arguing over whether Stuart Pearce’s ‘goal’ had been indirect or not and why the referee hadn’t done his homework properly.

In fact the 1990 tournament featured referees almost as much as the players. 16 red cards were handed out and Argentina’s Monzon became the first player to be sent off in a World Cup Final. The soundtrack to the tournament was Pavarotti’s ‘Nessun Dorma’ but many of the games were really sleep-inducing and the emphasis was on defence in many games.

When Italy had last won the World Cup, in 1982, that tournament had witnessed the first penalty shootout. In 1990 there were four and, of course, England lost to Germany yet again with Chris Waddle and Stuart Pearce destined not to score in Italia ’90. David O’Leary – a future Leeds United manager – did score a penalty though, for the Republic of Ireland against Romania. This was new territory for the Republic as they had never participated in the World Cup before.

It was new territory for me too. Michelle and I were happily settled in our flat in Wood Green, North London and she watched some of the World Cup matches with me – reminding me of the last time this has happened when my mother sat with me and did her knitting in front of Bobby Moore and co in 1970.

The England v Cameroon match was especially memorable as a great and spontaneous banging of drums was heard from the flat below when Cameroon scored each of their two goals – we weren’t aware before then that the flat was even occupied as we’d never seen a soul.

Although Huw had predicted that Gary Lineker would be the face of the 1986 tournament, and though he had indeed won the Golden Boot for his six goals in Mexico, I think his and Paul Gascoigne’s were to be the enduring images of Italia’ 90: glorious failure.

For me, the image of Michelle was not tinged with sadness as so many other good things in my life had been to date. I felt like a young boy again, with a carefree optimism and re-born love for her, for life and for the game.

See also:

1986: http://sportales.com/soccer/did-god-exist-in-1986/

1982: http://sportales.com/soccer/the-rain-and-spain-in-1982/

1978: http://sportales.com/soccer/i-cried-but-not-for-argentina-in-1978/

1974: http://sportales.com/soccer/by-the-1974-world-cup-i-had-grown-but-we-had-declined/

1970: http://sportales.com/soccer/the-1970-world-cup-the-end-of-a-golden-age/

1966: http://sportales.com/soccer/i-was-six-in-1966-and-thought-the-world-cup-was-just-for-fun/

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