Football World Cup 2022: From Maradona to Messi to Mbappe. A World Cup obsession in nine parts

Kylian Mbappe celebrates after scoring during the 2018 FIFA World Cup final between France and Croatia. Photo / Getty

Nothing beats the Fifa World Cup. Though hosting decisions have been regrettable for the latest editions, it remains the greatest sporting spectacular there is. The drama, the skills, the storylines, the passion and the sense that just about everyone in the world is watching. And the timeframe – every four years – makes it even more special, as tournaments stick in the memory like few other sporting events these days and often coincide with life landmarks.

1986

Thanks to Shoot! magazine, I knew about Michel Platini, Karl-Heinz-Rummenigge, Michael Landrup, Careca et al but I had never seen them in action. I was in awe of my London-born friend Ian Mitchell at Avondale Intermediate who waged school to watch England’s games. He was miserable, until Gary Lineker’s hat trick against Poland sparked their campaign. Scotland were brave – particularly to wear those bizarre shorts with the horizontal blue band - but were eliminated by a 10-man Uruguay.

Brazil were capable of doing anything – even their right fullback Josimar was scoring incredible goals – but were beaten on penalties by Platini’s France. Tried to wake up my father (unsuccessfully) to watch Argentina versus England, probably the start of my obsession with Diego Maradona.

We were allowed out of class for the semi-final against Belgium, but had to go back to maths after halftime, missing the goals. The final was on a Monday morning. West Germany managed a famous comeback, before Argentina won it in extra time. I didn’t go to school.

Favourite memory: Bryan Butler’s BBC radio commentary of Maradona’s second goal against England.

“Maradona, turns like a little eel, he comes away from trouble, little squat man… comes inside Butcher, leaves him for dead, outside Fenwick, leaves him for dead, and puts the ball away… and that is why Maradona is the greatest player in the world.”

1990

Since derided as a lacklustre, drab event, Italia 90 seemed colourful and fantastic and exciting at the time. The Azzurri, with names like Giuseppe Giannini and Fernando De Napoli were uber glamourous and ‘Toto’ Schillaci scored lots of goals. Argentina were mostly awful but somehow reached the final, via two consecutive penalty shootouts and one moment of Maradona magic against Brazil. Germany, in weirdly colourful shirts, were a machine; even their penalties were ruthless and perfect. Belgium’s Enzo Scifo had a cool name and a wicked shot.

Everybody in the Avondale College 1st XI wanted to be Paul ‘Gazza’ Gascoigne but our coach, former All White Alex Metzger, waxed lyrical over Franco Baresi, that most stylish defender.

Cameroon was skilful and thrilling and probably should have beaten England in the quarter finals, with a 38-year-old Roger Milla. But England became the story, as they rolled all the way to the last four and hit the post in extra time against Die Mannschaft. Scotland were brave but lost to Costa Rica. The final was easily the worst of all time.

Favourite memory: Roberto Baggio’s wonder goal against Czechoslovakia.

1994

I was far too busy at the University of Auckland, grinding through a conjoint degree, which limited viewing opportunities. For me, the tournament centred around four magicians. There was Maradona, reformed and refocussed. Romario, a unique finisher for Brazil. Hristo Stoichkov , who inspired Bulgaria to beat Germany and reach the semi-finals. And Gheorghe Hagi, the ‘Maradona of the Carpathians’.

With friendlier time zones, games were on in the common area or the student pub. Every match seemed to be during the day in sweltering temperatures inside vast stadiums. Thrilled early on by Argentina, then in disbelief when Maradona failed a doping test. I believed all the conspiracy theories. Roberto Baggio was amazing. Holland was unlucky. Sweden (third!) surprised everyone and delivered an exquisite free kick. Romario was the king, the difference in almost every game, except the final, where the two teams cancelled each other out before the ‘Divine Ponytail’ missed in the shootout. The next day the Herald had stories about a group of Brazil fans running through downtown Auckland with flags and beaming smiles.

Favourite memory: Not Diana’s Ross penalty. Not the USA’s uniform. Probably Ireland’s victory over Italy in New York of all places and the amazing semi-final between Brazil and Holland, which featured Bebeto’s ‘cradle’ goal celebration, which he should have trademarked.

1998

Experienced the joys of a BBC World Cup for the first time, thanks to an OE in England and a perfectly timed knee operation which meant a few weeks on the couch. The coverage, often from midday to midnight, was magnificent. Scotland were brave, especially against Brazil where Denilson did a million step overs but ultimately faltered again. France pioneered the use of a ‘non-scoring striker’ but got better and better.

Michael Owen dribbled his way into a lifetime of fame. Argentina scored an amazing free kick in the same game, then were beaten by Denis Bergkamp’s gravity defying strike in the quarter final. Germany exited in the quarter finals for the second successive tournament. My Norwegian friends were proud of their academic coach Egil Olsen, who helped them upset Brazil. Watched the final in Brighton, then wondered why I hadn’t gone to Paris.

Favourite memory: Towards the end of the USA versus Iran group game, when the Americans threw everyone forward for a corner, leaving two Iranian attackers alone on halfway, who duly sprinted away to score. The BBC studio pundits were beside themselves.

2002

Back in Auckland after a year away in South America. Games were often in primetime, with plenty on TVNZ. Crushed when highly favoured Argentina didn’t make it out of their group. Spain looked good, before they were robbed by dodgy officiating against Korea. Guus Hiddink’s Koreans, riding an unprecedented wave of national hysteria, were finally stopped by Oliver Kahn’s Germany. Beckham-san and England blew it against 10-man Brazil.

Rivaldo was peerless throughout, though also managed probably the worst play acting in tournament history against Turkey. Ronaldo (the Brazilian one) finally got his reward on the world stage.

Best memory: The atmosphere created by the Korean fans, as the sea of red offered home support like never before.

2006

Made a late call to jump on a plane to Frankfurt, after a friend’s uncle in east Berlin offered the use of his apartment to us. Spent most mornings playing football against local Turkish guys, before settling in to watch the games after lunch.

Bought far too many souvenir t-shirts and got mad at the Italians for diving against Australia. Attended two not-so-thrilling games; Iran vs Angola (1-1) in Leipzig and Ukraine vs Tunisia (1-0) in Berlin. Still embarrassed about forking out 10 Euros for those dreadful half and half scarves. When Germany played Poland in Dortmund, we watched inside a 10,000 seat indoor arena in Berlin (for the atmosphere, ja) on massive screens.

Was very envious of Franz Beckenbauer, who seemed to attend every game.

Argentina lost to Germany, with a teenage Lionel Messi left on the bench. England went out on penalties, again. Zidane netted the greatest clutch penalty in the final, before being sent off. Italy reigned supreme in the shootout, after three previous defeats from twelve yards.

Best memory: The pure joy as a young German team reached the semi-finals, soundtracked by the unofficial anthem (54, 74, 90, 2006) by Sportfreunde Stiller. Locals surprised themselves with their patriotism and excitement.

2010

A tournament in two parts. The first chapter was the All Whites, whose exploits took over the nation for 10 days. Nelsen’s stand over, Smeltz’s cross, Reid’s goal, Smeltz’s goal, Paston’s heroic’s, Vicelich’s volley.

Instead of Rustenburg and Nelspruit I watched from a sports bar in downtown Auckland. Was a guest on TV1′s Breakfast show before the Paraguay game, having visited Asuncion earlier that year. Paul Henry made fun of my tie.

Ghana were brilliant, unforgivably robbed by Luis Suarez of a semi-final berth. Joined most of Auckland’s Argentinean community at a Parnell bar for the quarter final, only to see them eviscerated by Germany. Spain were efficient and clinical in the final, while Holland, unlike their great teams of the 1970s, were ugly losers, with constant fouls.

Best memory: The 24 hours after the Italy match, where the All Whites featured on news organisations across the world.

2014

A dream come true, covering the tournament in Brazil. Crazy airline prices meant a 44-hour trip, via Dubai, to Sao Paulo. Witnessed some spectacular games – particularly Germany vs Ghana (2-2) – but the special moments came away from the stadiums. Travelling with the ‘Fortaleza four’, a group of friends from Auckland. Watching beach football on a Sunday morning in Recife, with spectacular skills on a pitch that sloped down towards the water. The celebrations in the town square in Salvador, after Brazil edged Chile on penalties. Staying in a Rio favela, then joining in a local kickaround on a bumpy, muddy pitch. Met Roberto Carlos in a lift; he still looked 25.

Germany had covered every detail – even designing their second strip to look like Flamengo and garner local support – and seemed destined to win. England fizzled in the group of death, joining Italy with an early exit. Brazil’s striker Fred was an object of ridicule, while Neymar carried the Selecao before his back injury. Expected trouble on the streets of Belo Horizonte after Brazil’s 7-1 defeat to Germany, but the locals had seemed resigned to their fate.

Best memory: The ubiquitous Argentinean fans in Rio, who crossed the border in their thousands during the week of the final, with their catchy chant (‘Brasil decime que se siente’) that wound up every Brazilian.

2018

It seemed like nothing could top a World Cup in Brazil, but this one did. The football went up a notch, the stadiums were spectacular and England’s unexpected run added another layer. The hype around the ‘three lions’ increased with every match, especially after the second round game against Colombia, as they won on penalties to end a long standing hex.

Spain passed themselves to death against Russia, who triumphed in a shootout. The Moscow metro trains were almost shaking as the locals celebrated on the way back. France suffocated opponents with their physicality, then Kylian Mbappe seared them with his pace.

Watched Brazil beat Belgium in the match of the tournament in Kazan, before a crazy 360km overnight taxi ride to Samara for England’s quarter-final. Too tired to visit Stalin’s WWII bunker, but snoring fans precluded a siesta. England won comfortably, as a Gareth Southgate lookalike sat metres away in the stands. Travelled more than 1600km back to St Petersburg, via Moscow, to see Belgium blow it against France before returning to the capital for the climax. The Croatian players mocked English reporters in the mixed zone “Football’s not coming home” before the dramatic six goal final. Rain came for the ceremony, as Vladimir Putin sheltered under the only umbrella in the stadium.

Best memory: The train trips. The best was a 13-hour journey from Moscow to Kazan, in the third class carriage, with about 60 others, to see France play Argentina, before returning to the capital the same night. It was a 1700km return trip. Some other journalists thought it was crazy – “why are you going all that way for a game” but the chance to see Messi and Mbappe couldn’t be missed.