World Cup Winning Shirts #5
Lucky numbers: Argentina 1978
The fifth installment in this series is undoubtedly a bittersweet celebration. At its core it glances an admiring eye at ‘La celeste y blanca’ of Argentina, yet in so doing it reflects on the most controversial World Cup of all time.
The Argentinean jersey has remained comparatively unchanged throughout its history, such is its enduring quality. It is comprised of sky blue and white stripes lifted from the national flag. In 1978 on-off manufacturer adidas repeated the colours on the socks and even added the lighter blue as piping on the sides of the navy shorts.
What was particularly noteworthy about this iteration — above all others— was its quirky numbering, which eschewed the normal 1–11 convention. As star midfielder Osvaldo ‘Ossie’ Ardiles recalled: “There were a lot of arguments over which shirts people wanted to wear,” so coach Cesar Menotti “decided to do it in alphabetical order.” This led to Ardiles wearing number #2; his fellow midfielder Norberto Alonso being awarded the #1 shirt (traditionally worn by goalkeepers); the centre back Luis Galvan was given #7; whilst first-choice ‘keeper Ubaldo Fillol wore #5!
Going into the tournament ‘La Selección’ had the weight of the nation on their shoulders: not only was it being played on home turf, their last— and only — appearance in the final was back in 1930 (when they lost 4–2 to Uruguay) and many Argentines felt winning the Jules Rimet Trophy was long overdue.
Ultimately, irrespective of the result the 1978 event would always be overshadowed by off-field occurrences.
The furore started with the logo no less. Designed in 1974, it was based on (then) President Juan Perón’s saluting gesture of two arms above his head. When his successor — and wife — was removed by a coup in 1976 the incoming military leadership tried to change the branding, as the symbolism was not lost on them. However, they were ultimately dissuaded from doing so owing to the commercial implications leveled at them.
The new regime was a cause of contention, fueled by stories of 5,618 nationals ‘disappearing’ since the junta took office. Moreover, many feared that President Jorge Rafael Videla would succeed in creating a show of might as Hitler had tried (and failed) to do during the 1936 Olympics. Indeed, The Netherlands led calls for a boycott, and whilst they did eventually attend, three-time European Footballer of the Year Johan Cruyff and West Germany’s Paul Breitner refused to take part. Some thirty years later Cruyff would reveal that fears for his family’s safety stopped him from traveling but at the time his decision was seen as a political one.
Almost implausibly matters worsened when the Chairman of the World Cup Organising Committee, General Omar Actis, was assassinated in the run-up, allegedly because he was going to publicly complain about escalating costs.
As for the football, the Albicelestes had already caused a stir by refusing to call-up the promising 17-year old Maradona, who was deemed too young. Furthermore, it was revealed that all their games would kick-off at night, thereby giving them the advantage of knowing the standings prior to playing.* They would directly benefit from this in the second round: having seen Brazil beat Poland 3–1 they knew they needed to thrash Peru by a margin of four goals to proceed to the final (on goal difference). They did so, winning 6–0. It was somewhat of a pyrrhic victory, as rumours emerged that the military dictatorship had bribed the opposition — allegations denied the Peruvian players.
Argentina met 1974’s finalists, Holland, who by a quirk of fate also had unorthodox numbering — a hangover from a similar alphabetical ordering at the previous World Cup (goalkeeper Jan Jongbloed wore the #8 shirt).
In keeping with the tournament as a whole the game was contentious, with Holland accusing the Argentines of stalling play by questioning the legality of a plaster cast on Dutch midfielder René van de Kerkhof’s wrist. So much so that they threatened to walk off.
Despite the ruction Holland took the lead through Mario Kempes. However, Argentina’s Dick Nanninga equalised moments from the final whistle to take the game into extra time, whereupon he scored again, before Daniel Bertoni struck to seal a 3–1 victory.
Eventful to the last, The Netherlands refused to attend the post-match ceremony.
Whilst the shirt would gain infamy under the stewardship of Maradona who led the team to World Cup victory eight years later, the 1978 version earns its place in this list in part because of the puzzling squad numbers but chiefly for its role within the wider context of the competition. Arguably this was the moment that football transcended its sport, living-up to Bill Shankly’s assertion that “some people think football is a matter of life and death. I assure you, it’s much more serious than that.” Perhaps the most damning assessment came from forward Leopold Luque who said, “in hindsight, we should never have played that World Cup, I strongly believe that.” To the victor belongs the spoils.
*The issue of staggered kick-offs was ended after Spain 1982 when FIFA stipulated that the final two group games in would be played simultaneously.
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Given that this series is about football strips, it might be interesting to learn that the 1978 World Cup was the fourth and last time that a national team did not wear its own kit. The occurrence happened when France took-on Hungary when both teams arrived at the game with only white shirts. Kick-off was delayed until a local team from Mar del Plata ‘Club Atlético Kimberley’ loaned theirs — and thus France played in vertical green and white stripes for the only time in their history.
