Podcast Episode 3: France 1938 A decision to rest a star player that ends one team’s dream of glory. A nation - and a team - that basically disappear overnight. And a champion that would hold the trophy for 12 long years. Football couldn’t escape history. And it all happened in France… in 1938.
Welcome to The World Cup Files! Are you ready to travel back in time and relive the greatest moments in football history? From dramatic finals to unbelievable goals, each episode tells the story of one World Cup — the
heroes,
the
villains,
and
the
moments
no
one
saw
coming.
So grab your boots… it’s time to kick off our journey through the World Cup! I’m Aileen, and this is The World Cup Files. Remember how Italy had used the World Cup to show the world how powerful they were?
Well, by 1938, the world was starting to feel very uneasy about powerful countries. Adolf Hitler had marched his army into Austria, claiming it as part of German territory. Europe was on edge. War was coming. Most people could feel it, even if they didn't say it out loud. And yet, football said: the show must go on. Welcome to File Three. France, 1938. Where the world played on, and the clock ticked.
LET'S TAKE A LOOK AT THE KEY FACTS [Slightly clipped voice, like reading a dossier] Fifteen teams. Eighteen matches. Eighty-four goals. Winner: Italy — four goals to two against Hungary in the final. Top scorer: Leônidas da Silva of Brazil, with seven goals. And a tournament played under the shadow of a world that was running out of time. THE CONTENDERS [Warm, back to storytelling voice.] Fifteen teams showed up in 1938. Austria had won a place, but their team had essentially disappeared the morning that the
country
had
ceased
to
exist
-
both
absorbed
into
Nazi
Germany. And Spain, in the middle of a brutal civil war, couldn’t come either. Yes, Europe was a bit of a mess all things considered. But the tournament would go ahead. There were more missing teams from South America. Uruguay was still angry about the poor turnout at their own tournament. And Argentina – who
had
wanted
to
host
the
1938
tournament
–
was
furious
that
their
bid
had
been
beaten
by
France.
Back-to-back tournaments based in Europe didn’t feel very “international” to them. And they
may
have
had
a
point.
So they stayed home, listening from afar as reports of the matches drifted across the wireless
signals.
Defending champions Italy were back, determined to hold their title. And for the first time, the tournament really did feel a bit more international in terms of participation.
What
it
was
missing
in
old
favourites,
it
made
up
for
in
exotic
new
entrants
–
the
Dutch
East
Indies
and
Cuba
making
their
debuts.
HOW IT PLAYED OUT [Pick up pace a little. This section moves forward.] The format was the same brutal knockout of the previous Cup. Win or go home. And because the concept of penalties still hadn’t been dreamed up, matches were to be replayed
if
teams
were
tied
after
120
minutes.
Every match was its own final. Every mistake could be your last. The tournament provided a beautiful distraction from the chaos and fear that was blanketing
much
of
Europe.
For 90 minutes at a time, crowds could forget the headlines. Forget the marching boots. Just watch the ball. And as it got underway, interest began to focus on Brazil. As a team, they were on fire, lighting
up
matches
with
dazzling
play. And within that team, one particular player was drawing all the attention. His name was Leônidas da Silva. He had grown up in poverty in Rio de Janeiro. His family could rarely afford boots, so he learned
to
play
without
them.
He was tiny and fast and moved like his limbs weren’t limited by bones, bending and twisting
in
ways
that
defenders
simply
couldn't
anticipate.
They called him the Black Diamond. He had also invented — or at least perfected — something called the bicycle kick. It was a move so spectacular, so seemingly impossible, that when he first used it in a match,
the
referee
disallowed
the
goal.
He
simply
couldn't
believe
that
something
so
incredible
could
be
legal. It was! In Brazil's opening game against Poland, the pitch was a swamp. Rain had hammered the
ground
for
hours
before
kick-off,
turning
the
grass
into
a
waterlogged
quagmire. Players slid into challenges and emerged completely covered in mud. The ball barely moved. None of that seemed to bother Leônidas one bit. He scored once. Then again. Then a third — a hat-trick in conditions that would have had
most
players
demanding
the
match
be
postponed. But that wasn't enough for him. Because in the second half, legend has it that he scored his fourth goal with a bare foot after
having
his
boot
sucked
off
by
the
waterlogged
pitch!
He was playing a kind of football that most Europeans had only dreamed of. Poland put up an incredible fight - Ernst Wilimowski matching Leonidas’s tally of 4 goals. But Brazil won 6-5. The match was so chaotic that the impressive scoreline doesn’t even really give any insight
into
its
drama.
With da Silva’s help, Brazil were looking like the team to watch. Serious contenders for the
coveted
trophy.
But it wasn’t going to be an easy road to the final. Their quarter-final against Czechoslovakia was a brutal affair littered with filthy fouls and outright
aggression
from
both
sides.
It tested the limits of the referee’s patience. Later named “the Battle of Bordeaux”, three players were sent off and two were stretchered
away
with
injuries
bad
enough
to
end
their
tournament. After 90 minutes, the score was 1-1. After 120, there was no change. The match had run out of time. And it had very nearly run out of players. A rematch was scheduled for two days later. And because of all the suspensions and injuries,
the
teams
that
took
the
field
looked
almost
nothing
like
the
teams
that
had
fought
to
a
standstill.
Brazil had to make nine changes and Czechoslovakia made five! Brazil won the replay 2-1. Their place in the semis was secured. And they would be up against reigning champions, Italy. It was here that Brazil's coach made a decision that still raises eyebrows today. He rested Leônidas — their best player, their match-winner, their talisman. He said he was saving him for the final. The match that really mattered. The match that they hadn’t yet reached. It was the kind of logic that sounds perfectly reasonable until the plan falls to bits. Because without Leônidas, they were never able to make it to the final.
Sometimes the wrong decision is made at exactly the wrong moment. Italy were organised, disciplined and ferociously hard to break down. The first half came and went with no score, but Italy came out of half-time with a new sense
of
pressure.
They didn’t have to sustain it for long. At minute 51, Gino Colaussi took them 1-0 up. Brazil responded, fighting with everything they had. But under the strain to pull one back,
they
conceded
a
penalty.
Up stepped Guiseppe Meazza. Remember him? Italy’s hero from 1934 was this squad’s captain.
And he was just about to prove why. Because as he made his run-up, the elastic of his shorts snapped. In the split second that he realised what had happened, faced with the choice of abandoning
the
kick
to
save
his
modesty…
he
simply
grabbed
his
shorts
and
held
them
in
place
while
sending
the
ball
flying
into
the
net. 2-0 Italy. What a legend! Brazil pulled one back at minute 87, but it was never going to be enough. Italy won 2–1. On the other side of the draw, Hungary had been quietly, efficiently, and rather ruthlessly walking
over
everyone
in
their
path. They were captained by György Sárosi. And Sárosi wasn’t just a footballer. His teammates called him Dr Sárosi, because in addition to being an international footballer,
he
had
a
doctorate
in
physical
education.
How’s that for well rounded?
Smart? Undeniably. But he was also fast and technically brilliant. He could play as striker, midfielder, or central defender — sometimes seemingly all three
in
the
same
match.
Hungary's campaign had begun with a 6-0 demolition of the Dutch East Indies, Sárosi among
the
scorers.
Then
a
composed
2-0
win
over
Switzerland
in
the
quarter-finals.
They were clinical and controlled and completely undramatic in comparison to the reigning
champions
racing
to
meet
them
from
the
other
side
of
the
table. They met Sweden in their semi-final. Sweden scored after just 35 seconds. The ball had barely been touched and Hungary were
already
behind! Some teams would have panicked. Hungary did not. They simply worked hard and pushed their way back in. They ran the Swedish defence ragged, and by half-time, they were leading 3-1. Another two
in
the
second
half
made
the
final
tally
5-1.
That’s a pretty convincing score line for a World Cup semi-final. This Hungarian side were already being talked about as something special. Elegant, intelligent, technically ahead of almost everyone they faced. They were, in many
ways,
the
forerunners
of
the
legendary
Hungarian
teams
that
would
come
along
in
the
1950s
and
stun
the
entire
world. The seeds of greatness were being planted right there, in France, in 1938. They just had one rather large obstacle standing between them and the trophy. Italy.
THE FINAL Paris. June 19th, 1938. The Stade Olympique de Colombes was a grand, crumbling old venue on the edge of the
city.
It had hosted the 1924 Olympics. It had witnessed some amazing things. But on this warm
Sunday
afternoon,
it
was
about
to
host
its
most
significant
match. Nearly 45,000 people filled the terraces. French fans, mostly, without a team in the fight — there
purely
to
enjoy
the
show. The smell of summer heat and cigarette smoke drifted across the stands. Because this was
1938.
Cigarettes
were
very
much
allowed. Italy came out in their familiar blue shirts, composed and focused. They radiated the energy
of
champions. Hungary came out knowing they had one chance. Their nerves showed. But so did their determination. Italy struck first. In the sixth minute, left winger Gino Colaussi received the ball. Space was opening up in front of him. He didn't overthink it. He cut inside and drove his shot
towards
the
far
post.
The Hungarian goalkeeper barely had time to react. 1-0 Italy. The crowd cheered the early action. They might not have a dog in the fight, but this was the
kind
of
football
they
were
here
for. Hungary hit back almost immediately.
Just two minutes later, Pál Titkos struck to equalise. A massive roar erupted from the stands. But Italy weren't rattled. In this cat and mouse chase, the momentum was back with them. They played the ball forward into the Hungarian box. It was full of players, but they seemed
to
be
taking
their
time
-
passing
the
ball
in
and
out,
back
and
forward
while
they
waited
for
just
the
right
chance.
And that chance came to Silvio Piola in the 16th minute. Tall, strong and skillful, Piola was
the
kind
of
striker
who
made
defenders
look
like
they
weren't
even
trying.
He
seemed
to
just
know
that
the
time
was
right,
and
he
slammed
the
ball
into
the
net. 2-1 Italy. Only this time, Italy wasn’t willing to hand back momentum. They wanted more. And just before the break, it looked like that’s what they were going to get. The ball was swept down the left, then crossed to the middle. Colaussi, inexplicably unmarked, arrived at pace to side-foot it home with the precision of
a
man
who'd
scored
a
thousand
goals
like
it. The board read 3-1 to Italy at half-time. Hungary came out for the second half with something to prove. In the 70th minute, Sárosi collected the ball 20 yards from goal. He had half a second, and
he
made
it
count.
His
shot
was
clean,
low,
right
into
the
corner. [Let this land. Build tension here.] 3-2. With 20 minutes left on the clock, Hungary were back in it. Could they find an equaliser? That question hung in the hair until the timer had ticked down to five minutes.
And then Italy answered it. The ball found Silvio Piola in the penalty area once again. He only had one chance. It came to his weaker foot - his left - but you wouldn’t have known. The Hungarian keeper anticipated it and dove, but he couldn’t get there in time. Piola swept
the
ball
low
and
hard
into
the
bottom
left
corner
of
the
net.
4-2. The final whistle blew moments later, making Vittorio Pozzo the only manager in history to
this
day
to
win
back-to-back
World
Cups.
He walked slowly onto the pitch, arms wide, eyes glistening. The Italian players collapsed onto the turf, some laughing, some crying, some simply staring
up
at
the
Parisian
sky. They had done the impossible. Italy were world champions. [Pause. Then simply.] Again. THE AFTERMATH [Warm down. Reflective tone. You're landing the chapter, not rushing away from it.] As Italy celebrated, Mussolini gloated. Italy's win on foreign soil was absolute proof, he said,
that
his
way
of
running
things
was
superior. But this time, the celebration was quieter. The world had bigger things on its mind. Within a year, Germany had invaded Poland. The Second World War had begun.
Young men who had grown up with dreams of playing for their countries were now fighting
for
them. [Slow right down.] The World Cup would have to wait. There would be no tournament in 1942. None in 1946. And when football did come back, the world would look very different. [Bridge forward, warmly.] Now, how about some mind-blowing facts that you won't find in the main story? Fact 1: Mussolini
didn’t
make
it
to
France
for
the
final,
but
legend
has
it
that
he
sent
his
team
a
good
luck
telegram
telling
them
to
“win
or
die”.
After
letting
in
Italy’s
4
goals,
Hungarian
keeper
Antal
Szabó
reportedly
joked,
“I
may
have
let
in
four
goals,
but
at
least
I
saved
their
lives.”
Funny
guy.
Fact 2: When
Adolf
Hitler
took
Austria
as
his
own,
he
also
gifted
himself
their
football
team!
The
Austrian
players
were
forcibly
absorbed
into
the
German
team
and
9
ended
up
on
the
German
roster
in
1938.
Didn’t
help
though.
Fact 3: The
Dutch
East
Indies
(now
called
Indonesia)
was
the
first
Asian
team
to
feature
in
a
World
Cup
lineup.
They
lost
6–0
to
Hungary
in
their
only
match.
Fact 4: Although
Leônidas
didn’t
make
it
to
the
final,
he
scored
a
further
two
goals
in
Brazil’s
3rd
place
play-off
against
Sweden.
That
allowed
Brazil
to
claim
3rd
place,
and
Leônidas
himself
to
finish
as
the
tournament’s
highest
goal
scorer
with
a
total
of
7.
File 5: Because
of
the
Second
World
War,
the
next
World
Cup
wouldn’t
happen
for
twelve
years.
Many
of
the
players
who
competed
in
France
in
1938
never
got
the
chance
to
play
in
another
one.
If you enjoyed this episode, make sure you’re following The World Cup Files — it’s the best way to make sure you don’t miss the next story. And if you’ve got thirty seconds, a five star review on Apple Podcasts helps more people find us! Next time: Brazil, 1950. After years of silence, the World Cup returns… and ends with a match
the
world
would
never
forget. I’ll see you there. File closed.