World Cup Tales: When the World Cup Legitimised a Dictatorship

A Four-Goal Order

In Rosario, Argentina needed to beat Peru by four clear goals. Anything less and their great rivals Brazil, on the basis of goal difference, would be in the World Cup final. The hosts had started their own tournament sluggishly, losing to Italy in the first group stage, which condemned them to a tougher second-round group alongside Brazil, Poland and Peru. After a goalless draw with the Brazilians and a 2-0 victory over Poland, it all came down to this final match. Brazil had already played their last game, a 3-1 win against Poland, and could only watch and wait.

We know what happened next.

Argentina won 6-0. The ease with which the goals flowed against a Peruvian side that appeared to collapse whenever the ball entered their own half raised immediate suspicion. Rumours swirled of a pre-match team talk held behind locked doors, from which substitutes were excluded. Afterwards, stories emerged of Argentina shipping 35,000 tons of free grain to Peru and the Argentinian central bank unfreezing $50 million in credits. Nothing has ever been proven, but the whispers have never gone away. Some point to the fact that the Peruvian goalkeeper, Ramon Quiroga, was born in Argentina. Others simply point to the scoreline.

The Dirty War

The decision to award the 1978 finals to Argentina was made twelve years earlier, in 1966. But by the time the tournament arrived, the country was a different place. A military coup in March 1976 had installed a dictatorship led by General Jorge Rafael Videla. The junta’s “Dirty War” against its own people was in full swing, a campaign of terror that justified rape, torture and murder in the name of state security. It is estimated that between 10,000 and 30,000 people were “disappeared” by the military between 1976 and 1983.

Calls for a boycott grew across Western Europe, led by Amnesty International and a Paris-based group called COBA (Committee for the Boycott of the World Cup in Argentina). The campaign found fertile ground in the Netherlands, West Germany and Italy, but it ultimately fractured. Many on the far left, noting the USSR’s tacit approval of the junta for economic reasons, dropped their opposition. The Argentinian Communist party itself, the PCA, argued that the tournament would show a prosperous, peaceful society and that no boycott was necessary. FIFA, for its part, resisted any pressure to move the tournament.

The junta, meanwhile, spared no expense. An estimated $700 million, a tenth of the national debt, was poured into infrastructure. This sum was five times what Spain would spend on stadium renovation for the next tournament. When General Omar Actis, the head of the organising committee, planned to speak out against the cost, he was assassinated on his way to the meeting. The spending was often absurd. A state-of-the-art television broadcasting centre was built in Buenos Aires, but Argentinians had to watch the matches in black and white. To present an image of affluence, slums were bulldozed, with residents forced into the desert or areas away from the host cities. In Rosario, a mural was erected along the main road to hide the shacks behind it; the slum-dwellers dismantled it brick by brick to build their own homes.

An Insipid Final

After the controversial victory over Peru, Argentina faced the Netherlands in the final at the River Plate Stadium. The Dutch, who had lost Johan Cruyff to international retirement the previous year, were already wary. The gamesmanship began before a ball was kicked. The original referee, the Israeli Abraham Klein, was removed after the Argentinian FA objected to his appointment, citing political links between Israel and the Netherlands. FIFA acceded to their demand, despite Klein having competently refereed Argentina’s loss to Italy earlier in the tournament. He was replaced by the Italian Sergio Gonella.

The Dutch team walked out onto the pitch alone, left to wait for five minutes in front of a hostile 71,000 crowd before their opponents emerged into a blizzard of tickertape. Then, a new complaint: René van de Kerkhof’s lightweight plaster cast, which he had worn in previous matches with FIFA’s blessing, was suddenly deemed a problem. The match was delayed as he was sent back to the changing rooms to add more padding.

The match itself was a bad-tempered affair. Mario Kempes gave Argentina the lead seven minutes before half-time, but with just eight minutes of normal time remaining, Dick Nanninga headed an equaliser. In the dying seconds, Rob Rensenbrink had the chance to win it for the Netherlands. His shot beat the goalkeeper, Ubaldo Fillol, but bobbled and struck the outside of the post. It was the closest the Dutch would come. Argentina sealed the victory in extra time with goals from Kempes and Daniel Bertoni.

So incensed were the Dutch players by their treatment that they refused to attend the post-match ceremonies and flew straight home. The junta had its victory, the propaganda coup it craved. César Luis Menotti, the chain-smoking coach who wanted to win with style, had his trophy, as did the magnificent Kempes. But were they worthy champions? It was said at the time that Argentina could not have won the World Cup anywhere else. What if Klein had refereed the final? What if the Peru match had been played simultaneously with Brazil’s? What if Rensenbrink’s shot had gone an inch to the left?