England 1966: the World Cup where the ball bounced for the Crown | OneFootball

On the eve of each World Cup, the ghosts of history quickly appear, reminding us that football is not only played with feet, but also with cunning, impunity, and sometimes with the invisible hand of power. Needless to say, each World Cup brings its "magic," but also its memory, and there is always an echo of the past that refuses to be forgotten. Because there have been controversial World Cups, and then there is England 66. That old chapter that still smells of smoke, of old favoritism perfume. Yes, that World Cup. The one with the rigging, the flexible rules when convenient. The one with "made the law, made the trap" with a British bow.

England 1966 was designed like a tailor-made suit for the locals. The first blow came in advance: the venue was chosen by a political move by Stanley Rous, president of FIFA and, coincidentally, English. The argument? "It's the centenary of the FA." A pretext so flimsy it's hard to believe it convinced anyone who didn't have tea in their veins. The real reason? To ensure the Cup stayed at home. Spain and Germany lost the vote almost without a fight.

While Brazil, Uruguay, Argentina, Portugal, Italy, and Hungary traveled like backpackers, sleeping little and playing every three days, far from London, England rested five or six days between matches. "The protection of the English team is so evident that it even makes the British uncomfortable," wrote Gino Palumbo. He didn't know the worst was yet to come. A "neutral" World Cup, but with the scent of five o'clock tea.

The fixture was the first wink. The referee appointments, the second. The English presented two referees, but five ended up appearing, plus an Irishman and a Scotsman. A British summit on neutral ground. Clarín had already denounced it months before: something smelled fishy at Wembley, and it wasn't the grass.

The situation got murkier in the quarterfinals: representatives from Argentina, Spain, Uruguay, and the USSR had been summoned to witness the referee draw. They all arrived on time, but the draw had already been done. Only Germany and the African Confederation had been allowed in.

Argentina was assigned the German Rudolf Kreitlein to face England. And there began another shameful chapter. Minute 35: Antonio Rattín is sent off. The reason? "He looked at me with ill intent," said Kreitlein. Just like that. Without cards, as they didn't exist at the time. Without explanation. Without decorum.

Rattín, outraged, sat on Queen Elizabeth's red carpet and squeezed the corner flag bearing the British flag. Ten minutes passed before the Argentine left the field, as he was asking for a translator to understand the reason for the red card. The English bid him farewell with shouts of "animals." With ten men, the team did what it could and more. But the referee ignored a blatant offside, let play continue, and Geoff Hurst scored the 1-0 that qualified the English.

FIFA fined the AFA and tried to give lessons in discipline. Hypocrisy, in those days, wore a suit and tie. Meanwhile, Brazil, the reigning champion, fell to kicks: Pelé was battered by Bulgarians and Portuguese under the calculated passivity of British or allied referees. Uruguay didn't escape either: two sent off and a penalty invented in favor of Germany. All signed by Finney, another British referee.

The semifinals were arranged. Portugal was supposed to play in Liverpool. England decided, just like that, no: everyone to Wembley. And they won. What a surprise.

The final was the last scene of the theater, and if Argentina was put to sleep, Germany was vaccinated. The match was 2-2 in extra time when Hurst, Hurst again, shoots, hits the crossbar, and bounces outside the goal, outside. The whole stadium saw it, the world saw it. Today you see it and still think the same.

But the Soviet assistant Bakhramov raised the flag. Years later he confessed: "I didn't see the ball go in, but Dienst left me the responsibility. What was I supposed to do?"

What was he supposed to do. When the cards are marked, the dealer wins. That time, England played its hand. The Cup was served on the English table before the "capricious" ball spun, the host imposed its rules and drank the best wine with the most coveted cup, in sips and calculated, like a drink only they knew how to savor, the drink of injustice.

This article was translated into English by Artificial Intelligence. You can read the original version in 🇪🇸 here.