Paolo Rossi was the reason I fell in love with the World Cup. Italy 3 Brazil 2, July 5, 1982, is quite simply the greatest game of all time.
This summer will be the seventh World Cup I have attended and covered, but that game — even though I was just watching at home — remains the best. And yes, I am fully aware of the controversy surrounding Rossi, whose ban was reduced to two years after being caught up in a betting scandal. Many argued he should not have been playing.
Back in those days, football was brilliant and simple. I loved watching it with my Dad. It felt like the whole world wanted Brazil to win. They had the best team, the best players, and were simply amazing to watch: Eder, Falcao, Zico, and Socrates. They were the best team never to win the World Cup.
Except for reasons I still cannot quite recall — perhaps just to be different — we wanted Italy to win. Dino Zoff, Claudio Gentile, Marco Tardelli, and Rossi. What a team. I could watch that game every day for the rest of my life and never get bored. It was brilliant.
Every time Italy scored, Brazil came back. Then Rossi scored again to make it 3-2 and complete his hat-trick. Then, bizarrely, my Dad and I hid behind the sofa. We could not bear to watch. Why? I just do not know. It is simply what we did because we could not stand the tension. I can still remember the sun streaming in through the window, the old green sofa, and us crouching down behind it.
Italy got through and went on to win the 1982 World Cup. They beat Germany — another team we loved. Pierre Littbarski. Karl-Heinz Rummenigge (though he was not fully fit). Then came the greatest goal celebration of all time: Marco Tardelli reeling away, ecstasy etched across his face as he clenched his fists. It is beautiful. It is what football means.
Football was all my Dad and I ever talked about. Nothing else really. And that game — we will always have that game. We went to football together. We watched it on TV. I definitely got my nervous disposition from him. Even to this day, wearing my fan hat rather than the professional one, I still turn off the TV and radio rather than put myself through torture. It is stupid really.
The 2002 World Cup was my favourite in terms of covering it. Going to Japan and South Korea was a dream. 2010 was my least favourite because the atmospheres were not very good. Without a doubt, 2018 was the most fun to cover because I could not believe England reached the semi-final. I am completely unapologetic about being an England fan in the press box. I am desperate for them to win. I would never shout or jump up, but I am going crazy inside.
The 2022 World Cup was so different. I roomed with great colleagues Andy Dunn, David McDonnell, and James Nursey — something I will never forget. I am so excited for this summer. But nothing will ever top that crazy summer's day in 1982. It was why I developed this love affair with the World Cup.
