“How do we get into football?” Roberto Martínez, the current head coach of Portugal, pondered during a recent interview with Sid Lowe of the Guardian. His answer to his own question came with a strong hint of nostalgia. “Following the ’78 and ’82 World Cups,” said Martínez, doubtless striking a chord with countless readers.
After all, ask anyone with a place for football in their hearts – be it fan, player or coach – and there’s a good chance they will be able to summon a warm recollection of their first World Cup.
Just as the rhythms of the football season are a means of marking the passage of time, the same goes for World Cups – albeit the four-year gap between them means that previous tournaments often act as ‘Remember when?’ milestones.
I once heard Gareth Southgate reminisce about running home from school to watch England v France at that same 1982 World Cup that captured Martinez’s imagination. To offer another example, after reporting on the United States’ elimination by Belgium at a round of 16 game at the 2014 tournament in Brazil, deep inside the Arena Fonte Nova in Salvador, I heard US midfielder Clint Dempsey reminisce about the old VHS tape of Mexico ’86 which opened his eyes to the world’s obsession with football during his boyhood in Texas.
With the tournament in North America now just around the corner, such memories will be bubbling to the surface once more for many. In my case, the rush of nostalgia arrived early after my dad’s discovery, in the loft of the family home, of a cardboard box containing a Panini sticker album from the 1982 World Cup. Like Martínez, I turned nine that summer and it was a formative moment.
When I shared photos of several pages of that Panini album with my fellow Champions Journal contributor Graham Hunter, he was equally enthused – not least by the sticker of a certain Peruvian named Héctor Chumpitaz (photographed on the sticker with hand on heart, bellowing out his national anthem). “We loved that name,” said Graham of Chumpitaz, a defender. “We knew nothing of Hispanic culture, me and my brothers, but we collected the books and sticker albums in advance.”
“How do we get into football?” Roberto Martínez, the current head coach of Portugal, pondered during a recent interview with Sid Lowe of the Guardian. His answer to his own question came with a strong hint of nostalgia. “Following the ’78 and ’82 World Cups,” said Martínez, doubtless striking a chord with countless readers.
After all, ask anyone with a place for football in their hearts – be it fan, player or coach – and there’s a good chance they will be able to summon a warm recollection of their first World Cup.
Just as the rhythms of the football season are a means of marking the passage of time, the same goes for World Cups – albeit the four-year gap between them means that previous tournaments often act as ‘Remember when?’ milestones.
I once heard Gareth Southgate reminisce about running home from school to watch England v France at that same 1982 World Cup that captured Martinez’s imagination. To offer another example, after reporting on the United States’ elimination by Belgium at a round of 16 game at the 2014 tournament in Brazil, deep inside the Arena Fonte Nova in Salvador, I heard US midfielder Clint Dempsey reminisce about the old VHS tape of Mexico ’86 which opened his eyes to the world’s obsession with football during his boyhood in Texas.
With the tournament in North America now just around the corner, such memories will be bubbling to the surface once more for many. In my case, the rush of nostalgia arrived early after my dad’s discovery, in the loft of the family home, of a cardboard box containing a Panini sticker album from the 1982 World Cup. Like Martínez, I turned nine that summer and it was a formative moment.
When I shared photos of several pages of that Panini album with my fellow Champions Journal contributor Graham Hunter, he was equally enthused – not least by the sticker of a certain Peruvian named Héctor Chumpitaz (photographed on the sticker with hand on heart, bellowing out his national anthem). “We loved that name,” said Graham of Chumpitaz, a defender. “We knew nothing of Hispanic culture, me and my brothers, but we collected the books and sticker albums in advance.”
Graham could – and probably should – write a book about that tournament given he travelled to Spain as a Scotland fan, and ended up so enamoured of the country that he now lives there (and has written a book about their 2010 World Cup triumph and made a film about Pep Guardiola’s Barcelona). His reference to culture is pertinent; I’m convinced football opens the eyes of many to other cultures, creating a curiosity about other places.
Watching the highlights of games from distant places in the midweek round-up of European action in the 1980s – and it was the European Cup, UEFA Cup and Cup Winners’ Cup back then – left you wanting more. I didn’t need my primary school teacher to tell me Sofia was the capital of Bulgaria – not after CSKA had knocked Liverpool out of the European Cup.
To return to that sticker album, it felt particularly meaningful seeing again the stickers of the two stadiums in Seville – Estadio Ramón Sánchez-Pizjuán and Estadio Benito Villamarín – where in more recent times, I have found myself reporting on matches for UEFA. And I don’t doubt that nostalgia places some part in my fondness for those grounds.
Along with my long-lost España ’82 sticker book was the BBC’s World Cup preview magazine for that tournament. It is the first ‘grown-up’ football publication I can remember reading. Seeing it again acted as an instant transporter to being nine and intrigued by the stories of footballers in faraway places – not least the discovery that there was a club in Chile with the same name of my team, Everton.
That old magazine and sticker album were part of a selection of football magazines that my dad had retrieved from the loft – including a pile of Shoot! magazines from the 1980s and some issues of 90 Minutes and World Soccer magazine from the ’90s. I even found a yellowed copy of my first-ever match report, printed in a local Liverpool freesheet at the start of the ’90s.
Those who work in football media gain privileged access to people, events and places. As with any job, they complain about it too. Such is human nature. Yet that cardboard box of delights was a reminder of where my love of football writing began.
By neat coincidence, my reacquaintance with a treasured pile of fading newsprint occurred at the same time I was asked to help judge a sports writing award – an opportunity for immersion in the best football writing in England today. From nostalgia to the here and now.
And happily – as saturated as we are by the media’s 24/7 coverage of football – I can vouch that good writers can still lead you to interesting and even important places. In 1968, Arthur Hopcraft wrote in The Football Man, one of my favourite books about the sport, that: “I am a reporter trying to reach to the heart of what football is.” Others are now trying to reach the same thing – and, trust me, they remain worth reading.
“How do we get into football?” Roberto Martínez, the current head coach of Portugal, pondered during a recent interview with Sid Lowe of the Guardian. His answer to his own question came with a strong hint of nostalgia. “Following the ’78 and ’82 World Cups,” said Martínez, doubtless striking a chord with countless readers.
After all, ask anyone with a place for football in their hearts – be it fan, player or coach – and there’s a good chance they will be able to summon a warm recollection of their first World Cup.
Just as the rhythms of the football season are a means of marking the passage of time, the same goes for World Cups – albeit the four-year gap between them means that previous tournaments often act as ‘Remember when?’ milestones.
I once heard Gareth Southgate reminisce about running home from school to watch England v France at that same 1982 World Cup that captured Martinez’s imagination. To offer another example, after reporting on the United States’ elimination by Belgium at a round of 16 game at the 2014 tournament in Brazil, deep inside the Arena Fonte Nova in Salvador, I heard US midfielder Clint Dempsey reminisce about the old VHS tape of Mexico ’86 which opened his eyes to the world’s obsession with football during his boyhood in Texas.
With the tournament in North America now just around the corner, such memories will be bubbling to the surface once more for many. In my case, the rush of nostalgia arrived early after my dad’s discovery, in the loft of the family home, of a cardboard box containing a Panini sticker album from the 1982 World Cup. Like Martínez, I turned nine that summer and it was a formative moment.
When I shared photos of several pages of that Panini album with my fellow Champions Journal contributor Graham Hunter, he was equally enthused – not least by the sticker of a certain Peruvian named Héctor Chumpitaz (photographed on the sticker with hand on heart, bellowing out his national anthem). “We loved that name,” said Graham of Chumpitaz, a defender. “We knew nothing of Hispanic culture, me and my brothers, but we collected the books and sticker albums in advance.”
“How do we get into football?” Roberto Martínez, the current head coach of Portugal, pondered during a recent interview with Sid Lowe of the Guardian. His answer to his own question came with a strong hint of nostalgia. “Following the ’78 and ’82 World Cups,” said Martínez, doubtless striking a chord with countless readers.
After all, ask anyone with a place for football in their hearts – be it fan, player or coach – and there’s a good chance they will be able to summon a warm recollection of their first World Cup.
Just as the rhythms of the football season are a means of marking the passage of time, the same goes for World Cups – albeit the four-year gap between them means that previous tournaments often act as ‘Remember when?’ milestones.
I once heard Gareth Southgate reminisce about running home from school to watch England v France at that same 1982 World Cup that captured Martinez’s imagination. To offer another example, after reporting on the United States’ elimination by Belgium at a round of 16 game at the 2014 tournament in Brazil, deep inside the Arena Fonte Nova in Salvador, I heard US midfielder Clint Dempsey reminisce about the old VHS tape of Mexico ’86 which opened his eyes to the world’s obsession with football during his boyhood in Texas.
With the tournament in North America now just around the corner, such memories will be bubbling to the surface once more for many. In my case, the rush of nostalgia arrived early after my dad’s discovery, in the loft of the family home, of a cardboard box containing a Panini sticker album from the 1982 World Cup. Like Martínez, I turned nine that summer and it was a formative moment.
When I shared photos of several pages of that Panini album with my fellow Champions Journal contributor Graham Hunter, he was equally enthused – not least by the sticker of a certain Peruvian named Héctor Chumpitaz (photographed on the sticker with hand on heart, bellowing out his national anthem). “We loved that name,” said Graham of Chumpitaz, a defender. “We knew nothing of Hispanic culture, me and my brothers, but we collected the books and sticker albums in advance.”
“How do we get into football?” Roberto Martínez, the current head coach of Portugal, pondered during a recent interview with Sid Lowe of the Guardian. His answer to his own question came with a strong hint of nostalgia. “Following the ’78 and ’82 World Cups,” said Martínez, doubtless striking a chord with countless readers.
After all, ask anyone with a place for football in their hearts – be it fan, player or coach – and there’s a good chance they will be able to summon a warm recollection of their first World Cup.
Just as the rhythms of the football season are a means of marking the passage of time, the same goes for World Cups – albeit the four-year gap between them means that previous tournaments often act as ‘Remember when?’ milestones.
I once heard Gareth Southgate reminisce about running home from school to watch England v France at that same 1982 World Cup that captured Martinez’s imagination. To offer another example, after reporting on the United States’ elimination by Belgium at a round of 16 game at the 2014 tournament in Brazil, deep inside the Arena Fonte Nova in Salvador, I heard US midfielder Clint Dempsey reminisce about the old VHS tape of Mexico ’86 which opened his eyes to the world’s obsession with football during his boyhood in Texas.
With the tournament in North America now just around the corner, such memories will be bubbling to the surface once more for many. In my case, the rush of nostalgia arrived early after my dad’s discovery, in the loft of the family home, of a cardboard box containing a Panini sticker album from the 1982 World Cup. Like Martínez, I turned nine that summer and it was a formative moment.
When I shared photos of several pages of that Panini album with my fellow Champions Journal contributor Graham Hunter, he was equally enthused – not least by the sticker of a certain Peruvian named Héctor Chumpitaz (photographed on the sticker with hand on heart, bellowing out his national anthem). “We loved that name,” said Graham of Chumpitaz, a defender. “We knew nothing of Hispanic culture, me and my brothers, but we collected the books and sticker albums in advance.”
Graham could – and probably should – write a book about that tournament given he travelled to Spain as a Scotland fan, and ended up so enamoured of the country that he now lives there (and has written a book about their 2010 World Cup triumph and made a film about Pep Guardiola’s Barcelona). His reference to culture is pertinent; I’m convinced football opens the eyes of many to other cultures, creating a curiosity about other places.
Watching the highlights of games from distant places in the midweek round-up of European action in the 1980s – and it was the European Cup, UEFA Cup and Cup Winners’ Cup back then – left you wanting more. I didn’t need my primary school teacher to tell me Sofia was the capital of Bulgaria – not after CSKA had knocked Liverpool out of the European Cup.
To return to that sticker album, it felt particularly meaningful seeing again the stickers of the two stadiums in Seville – Estadio Ramón Sánchez-Pizjuán and Estadio Benito Villamarín – where in more recent times, I have found myself reporting on matches for UEFA. And I don’t doubt that nostalgia places some part in my fondness for those grounds.
Along with my long-lost España ’82 sticker book was the BBC’s World Cup preview magazine for that tournament. It is the first ‘grown-up’ football publication I can remember reading. Seeing it again acted as an instant transporter to being nine and intrigued by the stories of footballers in faraway places – not least the discovery that there was a club in Chile with the same name of my team, Everton.
That old magazine and sticker album were part of a selection of football magazines that my dad had retrieved from the loft – including a pile of Shoot! magazines from the 1980s and some issues of 90 Minutes and World Soccer magazine from the ’90s. I even found a yellowed copy of my first-ever match report, printed in a local Liverpool freesheet at the start of the ’90s.
Those who work in football media gain privileged access to people, events and places. As with any job, they complain about it too. Such is human nature. Yet that cardboard box of delights was a reminder of where my love of football writing began.
By neat coincidence, my reacquaintance with a treasured pile of fading newsprint occurred at the same time I was asked to help judge a sports writing award – an opportunity for immersion in the best football writing in England today. From nostalgia to the here and now.
And happily – as saturated as we are by the media’s 24/7 coverage of football – I can vouch that good writers can still lead you to interesting and even important places. In 1968, Arthur Hopcraft wrote in The Football Man, one of my favourite books about the sport, that: “I am a reporter trying to reach to the heart of what football is.” Others are now trying to reach the same thing – and, trust me, they remain worth reading.
“How do we get into football?” Roberto Martínez, the current head coach of Portugal, pondered during a recent interview with Sid Lowe of the Guardian. His answer to his own question came with a strong hint of nostalgia. “Following the ’78 and ’82 World Cups,” said Martínez, doubtless striking a chord with countless readers.
After all, ask anyone with a place for football in their hearts – be it fan, player or coach – and there’s a good chance they will be able to summon a warm recollection of their first World Cup.
Just as the rhythms of the football season are a means of marking the passage of time, the same goes for World Cups – albeit the four-year gap between them means that previous tournaments often act as ‘Remember when?’ milestones.
I once heard Gareth Southgate reminisce about running home from school to watch England v France at that same 1982 World Cup that captured Martinez’s imagination. To offer another example, after reporting on the United States’ elimination by Belgium at a round of 16 game at the 2014 tournament in Brazil, deep inside the Arena Fonte Nova in Salvador, I heard US midfielder Clint Dempsey reminisce about the old VHS tape of Mexico ’86 which opened his eyes to the world’s obsession with football during his boyhood in Texas.
With the tournament in North America now just around the corner, such memories will be bubbling to the surface once more for many. In my case, the rush of nostalgia arrived early after my dad’s discovery, in the loft of the family home, of a cardboard box containing a Panini sticker album from the 1982 World Cup. Like Martínez, I turned nine that summer and it was a formative moment.
When I shared photos of several pages of that Panini album with my fellow Champions Journal contributor Graham Hunter, he was equally enthused – not least by the sticker of a certain Peruvian named Héctor Chumpitaz (photographed on the sticker with hand on heart, bellowing out his national anthem). “We loved that name,” said Graham of Chumpitaz, a defender. “We knew nothing of Hispanic culture, me and my brothers, but we collected the books and sticker albums in advance.”
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