The World Cup semi-final between England and Germany in 1990 was seminal, a Ground Zero for a new era of ‘modern football’ that heralded a complete reassessment of our relationship with the beautiful game. Where once it was a nation’s shame caught in the headlock of hooliganism and viewed by Middle England as being a ‘slum sport played in slum stadiums increasingly watched by slum people’ (The Times, 1985) now the players were superstars, then later megastars as an influx of foreign talent flocked to the glitzy Hollywood of the Premier League. Families returned in droves while football became cool and accessible and loved again and in no small part was this startling transformation due to England’s participation in a tournament that ultimately led to penalty heartbreak.
But we know all of this already. We know because the patriotic highs and crushing lows of Italia ’90 have since been so widely chronicled that its key moments have become enshrined in folklore. In America their defining moment will always be a gunshot in Dallas. For us it will forever be Gazza’s tears in Turin.
Those tears fell 28 years ago today yet in all of the books written and plays performed one aspect of that very special time has too often been overlooked. Us. Where were you when English football changed – for better or worse - beyond all recognition?
While Chris Waddle was nervously preparing to take a spot-kick that had a continent holding its breath Kevin Henning was at home dreading the ring of the telephone. Three weeks earlier his dad had fallen thirty foot through a warehouse roof at work sustaining injuries so serious that doctors feared the worst on a daily basis. Due to a misunderstanding in the pre-mobile phone days Kevin had already endured two terrible days believing his old man had passed but now, as the famous shoot-out reached its conclusion a calmness descended. “I convinced myself that my Dad wouldn’t let go, not tonight of all nights. He’d want to hear about this one”.
And hear about it he did, regaining consciousness two days later. “While England eventually lost out my dad won the fight for his life and is still going strong seven World Cups after the one where he could and probably should have died”.
Stephen Lane meanwhile was in the stadium after travelling down from a work placement in Como.
“The train arrived and as we got off, we were attacked by the police armed with canes. They were trying to break up the England fans into smaller, more manageable groups. There was also a large Italian welcoming committee outside. As I wasn’t dressed as an England fan I managed to evade the attempted rounding up. I say ‘attempted’ as the England fans were having none of it and after re-grouping charged out of the station and scattered the waiting ultras”.
If that is a reminder of a time before the epoch of Turin so too is the fact that Stephen was able to secure a ticket outside the ground for a World Cup semi-final at face value.
Stewart Pinner also procured a ticket late on when his dad persuaded him to fly back out to Italy after cheering on the lads during their group games in Sardinia. On arrival at Stadio delle Alpi he was astonished to find himself in the company of the England player’s wives who consoled him with hugs when he broke down in tears as Waddle’s pen soared into the night sky.
If these are remarkable tales what of the ordinary ones, shared by millions with only the smallest of details differing? Harry Pearson, author of The Far Corner, recalls a lack of community spirit in England’s hour and a half of need.
“I watched it in a tiny flat on Bricklayer's Arms Estate on the Old Kent Road. My abiding memory is that when Lineker equalised and my girlfriend and I yelled in delight, the neighbours banged on the wall to make us be quiet. I'm guessing they must have been the only people in SE1 who weren't watching it”.
The recollection of the Sunday Mirror’s chief football writer Simon Mullock also features a neighbour’s input.
“I couldn’t watch the pens. I went for a walk around the block but I knew we’d lost when a voice carried through an open window shouting ‘oh f***ing hell.’ Germany were a great side, the best at the tournament, but England were better than them that night and should have won”.
Sky Sports’ Johnny Phillips watched the game at his gran’s house and as the penalty shoot-out turned into a collective nightmare he began to very much regret his choice of attire.
“I was supporting England but was actually wearing a replica West Germany shirt as I’d been playing football in it that afternoon. I remember walking home after thinking I was going to get lynched!”
Guardian journalist and founder of That 1980s Sports Blog Steve Pye was a 14-year-old football obsessive when England found themselves just a couple of steps away from achieving immortality.
“I'd watched every game with my dad, but oddly I got a bit stubborn on the day of the match and decided I preferred Brian Moore to John Motson, so there we were sitting in different rooms to each other on England's biggest night in 24 years”.
“My main recollection was simply how nervous I was. One game from the final and the chance to gain revenge over Argentina. But West Germany were a brilliant team, and secretly I didn't think we would make it. Naturally, there are all the shared memories we have. Waddle shooting from the halfway line (it wouldn't have counted); Parker's deflection; Lineker equalising; Gazza's tears; Waddle hitting the post; gut-wrenching penalties”.
“Funnily enough, even as a mere boy I had doubts about Shilton in the penalty shoot-out. He had enjoyed a fantastic tournament, yet I never expected him to save any of the German attempts. They were annoyingly good penalties, though, but his policy of moving after the ball had been kicked didn’t seem wise”.
Fellow journalist Tony Evans was another disenchanted by the performance of England’s record caps holder only his doubts were confirmed to him by a scoffing opposition.
“I was living in LA and watched the 1990 final in California on Mexican TV with a bunch of Germans drinking Bavarian beer, so the experience was coloured by their views. They thought Shilton's leap for their goal - he managed to get make himself smaller - and the England penalties were hysterical”.
“The other thing is I didn't realise Gascoigne was a big deal. With the Spanish commentary I missed it. About 1995 when I was back living at home I was in an alehouse and someone said "Gazza's tears". It was the first time I'd heard the phrase and I had no idea what it was about. The entire pub was laughing at me. Like many of the sport's seminal moments it passed me by”.
Twenty eight years ago today the Three Lions came within a roar of joining their predecessors from 1966 in the pantheon of greats but while that famous evening ended in bitter disappointment time has brought a kindly revising of proceedings where now we rightfully look back with a great deal of pride. It was after all an exhilarating period, a fantastic achievement and, more so, an awakening to how we really felt about our national game and how we felt about ourselves.
Perhaps it’s fitting then to end on a positive note with the reminiscence of the Times’ chief sports writer Matt Dickinson.
“It feels a bit odd to say that I don't remember exactly where I was for the game - 21 years old in 1990 so I was a student and everything is a little hazy from that time. If I do have an abiding memory of that summer and that tournament, it isn't so much the game as an all-night party with everyone dancing as the sun came up in the morning to World In Motion. I associate that summer with good times much more than the disappointment of missed penalties”.
