In the beginning of 1969 Bulgarian football was ‘reorganized’ in mid season – the Fall leg was already finished. ‘Reorganizations’ were nothing new in Bulgarian football, but this one was sinister: out of the blue mergers were ordered. Lokomotiv was amalgamated with Slavia (Sofia), becoming ZSK Slavia. Levski was amalgamated with Spartak (Sofia) and lowly Sportist (Kremikovtzi, a village, administratively part of Greater Sofia) under the name Levski-Spartak. CSKA was amalgamated with Second Division club Septemvri (Sofia), changing its full name from CSKA Cherveno Zname (Red Banner) to CSKA Septemvriisko Zname (September Banner – if the name of the month is amusing, there is reason – ‘September’ is short for two Communist events – the September Uprising in 1923 and the ‘Communist Revolution’ in September 1944. Then, in 1944, the Communists came to dictatorial power. There was no ‘revolution’, but invasion of the Soviet Red Army, giving power to Communists – however, the official ‘history’ said ‘revolution’ and massive one at that. Hence, ‘September’ meant that ‘revolution’.) The absurdity was completed by sudden inclusion of Third Division club in the First Division (which was two clubs short after the mergers) – Akademik (Sofia), ‘students’ club, was to continue in the spring half of the season with the points of former Spartak. ZSK Slavia took over the points of Slavia, and no longer existent Lokomotiv was… kept in the final table, finishing last with the points won in the Fall. It was interesting what would have happened, if the points of their 15 Fall games kept no longer existing club above the relegation zone, but eventually other teams won more points thanks to playing 30 seasonal games. The mergers were nasty in many respects: three of the old traditional clubs were practically annihilated. Slavia is the oldest Bulgarian club in existence and had loyal followers. Lokomotiv is also old, having traditional fan base, and if there was a thorough ‘working class’ club, it was Lokomotiv. It was found by railroad workers – its original name was ZSK (Zheleznicharski Sporten Club – Railroad Workers Sports Club). However, Communists were not fond of classic workers club, and not only in Bulgaria – when they came to power in Eastern Europe, they established their own ‘workers clubs’, attached to the Secret Police and the Army (some ‘working class’!), naming them after Soviet clubs of the same breed: Dukla (Prague) – Czechoslovakian army club; Partizan (Belgrade) – the army; Steaua (Bucharest) – the army, and Dynamo (Bucharest) – the Police; Dynamo (Berlin) – the East German ‘Stasi’ Police, and so on. In Bulgaria it was CSKA (Sofia) – the army, named after CSKA (Moscow) and Spartak (Sofia) – the Police. CSKA – founded in 1948 – was the government club, heavily promoted from day one: the best players were invited to the club and they completely dominated the 1950s. Unlike other clubs, CSKA hardly had any player developed in their youth system – they simply took the best players of other clubs, which was not difficult at all: players were taken for their army service, paid better than anywhere else, and occasionally threatened. And just to cover all angles, the army created vast satellite system – at least three other Bulgarian clubs playing in First Division were army clubs (the results of them playing against CSKA were known in advance). However, successful club becomes popular eventually – CSKA had the second largest fan base by 1960. Spartak (Sofia), by contrast, had no fans at all – they were also created by the Communist government, but not so heavily promoted. A new club and Police club at that, Spartak were disliked. But after 1965 they had very strong team – in footballing terms, always a pity: good team playing at empty stadium. (By the way, Akademik were also in this situation in the 1970s and early 1980s. Unlike Spartak, Akademik still exists and still has no fans.) The 1960s were difficult for CSKA – suddenly other clubs were winning championships and it is interesting to look at the ‘mergers’: every champion of 1960s seized to exist in 1969. The first were the provincial clubs – Communist states promoted clubs from the capital city. In 1967 two Plovdiv clubs disappeared – Botev (champions in 1967) and Spartak (champions in 1963) were merged into Trakia (A lowly third club was also part of the merger – Akademik, but nobody even remembers them. Botev’s fans never chanted ‘Trakia’ – always ‘Botev’, to the annoyance of the Communist regime.) Lokomotiv (Sofia) were champions in 1964. They were merged with Slavia, an old rival, and also a club affiliated with the army by 1969. It was a disaster – traditionally, clubs, players, fans disliked each other. Even Communist approved functionaries of both clubs found impossible to work together with the ‘opposition’. Fans massively withdrew their support – and many never returned, moving to support other clubs. Most likely, that was exactly the aim of the government – to destroy traditional fan base. It was successful plot – today both clubs (the merger lasted only two years) have pitiful number of fans. Nikola Kotkov was so disgusted, he moved to play for Levski – at least to play with his good friend Gundy. But it was not exactly moving to Levski – it was moving to Levski-Spartak. Levski were also champions – in 1965 and 1968, thus, for 5 years between 1960 and 1968 CSKA was ‘robbed’ from the title. Levski was the most popular club in Bulgaria and the only club disrupting CSKA’s dominance. It was already the most popular Bulgarian club in 1944, when the Communists became the rulers of the country. At that time Levski was attacked as ‘Fashist’ club – nothing true in that, but popularity had to be curbed. Thus, Levski became the ‘people’s club’, opposing the system and a victim of the system, at least in the minds of the fans. And its popularity grew, creating a classic derby – Levski vs CSKA. People vs Government. Nothing helped… Levski was renamed during the 1950s into Dynamo, but the fans still came to the stadium and chanted ‘Levski’ (the club is named after the most popular and beloved Bulgarian revolutionary of 19th century – Vasil Levski. Even the name meant opposition to the state and freedom.) The club was not attached to powerful state organs or enterprise, to keep it poor and isolated, yet, homegrown players were capable of beating the Army’s stars. For a while the club was attached to the State Post, a humiliation, for postmen are traditionally ridiculed in Bulgaria (the image of a postman is lazy good-for-nothing person munching sunflower seeds). Did not help – fans remained loyal. And… Levski trashed CSKA in November 1968 7-2. The biggest humiliation ever (only after the fall of Communism the record was bettered – 7-1 in 1994.) But it was 1968 – the scary ‘Prague Spring’. Who knows what may had happen – Levski fans were real or possible anti-Communists. And to some degree, the fans of other popular clubs. Crowds at stadiums were considered risky – massive numbers of people, gathered freely, without any government control, so unlike obligatory gatherings for state holidays and parades. Very unpredictable – ‘Down with CSKA’ may change quickly to ‘Down with Communism’, chanted by thousands. The crowd may easily spill on the streets after the game – the ghost of spontaneous anti-Communist demonstration pricked constantly the state. The very chant ‘Down with CSKA’ smelled of anti-Communism… Every Levski match was heavily guarded by mounted Police, aiming at quick dispersal of the fans after the end of the game. Which was difficult too, for many fans came from the provinces, and had to be whipped back to the train station as quickly as possible – the state did not like unaccounted for people lingering in the capital. The trouble was, those provincials had to be somewhat packed for easier control on the their road to the trains – that is, they had to be concentrated in a crowd, just to avoid potentially dangerous ‘crowding’. Football games were big trouble. Merger with the Police made sense – for sure, it was going to alienate fans. I am not talking here for some Traffic Cops – it was the State Security, the Bulgarian equivalent of KGB. The idea of supporting the arch-Communist institution was revolting – large section of old fans quit going to the stadium in disgust. My father was one of this group, and so was I. The new club included half of the Spartak squad – these players were not accepted for years by the fans, they were ‘suspect’ more or less until 1975. Some big favorites of the fans were forced to end their careers. All players had to become Communist Party members in order to be employed as Police officers (every club in Communist country consisted of ‘amateur’ players employed otherwise – a Police club, therefore, consists of Police officers, kicking the ball in their ‘spare time’… but nobody can be employed by the Secret Police, unless he is a well checked Party member… so there.) Unlike Lokomotiv and Slavia, there was no big trouble in Levski-Spartak – rather obvious, since the Secret Police took over: objections were not to be voiced safely. There was one known rebellion, coming from Spartak player – the old great goalkeeper Georgy Naydenov refused to play for the new club. For him, it was unacceptable to play for Levski – he was CSKA player for years, spending his last football seasons in Spartak. Not big deal, though… he simply retired, and good thing too, for it was unlikely Levski fans to cheer him. However, the merger changed the nature of Levski – it became like CSKA: a club robbing other clubs of their players. The Minister of Internal Affairs (the Police, with the Secret Police on top) was Levski fan… which was not flattering for traditional Levski fans – Levski was becoming too close to the state, and therefore, similar to CSKA. The funeral of Gundy and Kotkov became political problem because of the Minister – a problem with nasty results, and a problem fueling myths and speculations. (The third club, merged with Levski, was insignificant affair – the Second Division Sportist belonged to giant and hated metallurgical enterprise, polluting Sofia to this very day, and now CSKA is related to it, in a weird turn of affairs – club and plant have the same owner. But this relation did not bring fruits – the Police was the real trouble. Sportist was quietly removed from Levski-Spartak, preserving remote affiliation in secondary sports for some years. In football – no significance.) Mergers were completed in the provinces too: Cherno More (Varna) was amalgamated with lowly local club, Akademik, but kept the name Cherno More (Black Sea, in translation). Two clubs from the mining city of Pernik were also merged – Minyor (Miner) and Metalurg (Metallurgist) under the name Krakra Pernishki (Krakra of Pernik, a medieval Lord, famous for resisting the Ottomans). The merger did not last. Both cases seemed to be only a camouflage of the real mergers – nothing disruptive came out of them, the Varna club even preserving the old name. In Pernik fans continued to support, shouting ‘Minyor’ (Metalurg never had solid fan base, nor they played higher than Second Division football until mid-1990s) – in a few years the club was once again Minyor and Metalurg reappeared separately too (Pernik is somewhat special case: never really big to challenge the football establishement, they had loyal working class following, which also tended to support Levski. Minyor is the traditional club, belonging to the coal mines. But the city had another big industrial employer – a metallurgical plant, which also run sports club. It was more rivalry between the heads of different industrial enterprises, disguised under the Communist concept of larger industries having sports clubs, ideally – but never in reality – supported by the workers of the corresponding industry. As it was and is, Minyor is the only club Pernik fans support. Yet, the city been relatively small, same fans supported Metalurg in another sport – they were the only ice-hockey club outside Sofia, and it was a matter of Pernik pride to support the hockey team against the big clubs from the capital.) As for CSKA, it was a merger for the sake of appearances. The army had been merged with Septemvri some years ago. By 1969 Septemvri was small club of no imporatance and hardly any fan base, playing in Second Division. It was also a club established after 1944, like CSKA. The name was opportune, changing nothing and signifying nothing sinister for the fans of CSKA. No players were taken in the ‘new’ club – unlike the other mergers, there were no tensions, no rivalries, no superfluous players, no grumblers, no players to be ‘approved’ or ‘disapproved’ were they fit for Party membership and Army ‘employment’. There was no team to be forged from two squads. CSKA ended in perfect condition to win the championship – and it did. The merger was just for face – to hide somewhat the real aim, to pretend some real reorganization of Bulgarian football and not simply destruction of the old clubs. Later Septemvri was quietly removed from CSKA and reestablished (today playing in Bulgarian 4th Division). In footballing terms, the ‘reorganization’ copied those of the late 1940s and 1950s – constant mergers, renaming, new clubs, keeping most clubs in uncertain flux, and peeling away fans, but never really touching the Communist club. Thus, the reorganization appeared to aim at restoring the hegemony of CSKA of the 1950s, by same method employed then. To me, the aim was largely political – to prevent even the slightest possibility for emerging of opposition via football support. Czechoslovakia was too hot in 1968-69. Football aims were secondary, however tempting.

Nikola Kotkov played for smaller club – Lokomotiv (Sofia), from 1956 to 1969, and most likely would have played there to the end of his career. An attacking midfielder, he was highly technical and inventive footballer, capable to beat the opposition alone. He played a total of 322 games, scoring 163 goals for Lokomotiv and Levski-Spartak. Ironically, the deadly accident tainted memories of Kotkov – when he moved to Levski-Spartak, he automatically was diminished in status: second after Gundy. After their death, the myth relates largely to Gundy, diminishing further Kotkov: it cannot be helped – Gundy was Levski. On the other hand, by moving to Levski, Kotkov was no longer equaling Lokomotiv. After all, he died with blue shirt, not red and black. It is not fair to the memory of either player – they were best friends and two of the best Bulgarian players ever. Yet, the time was not opportune – the merger alienated fans, and non-Levski players were suspect. Unlike the implants from Spartak, Kotkov was accepted – fans loved him before, when he was still playing for Lokomotiv. In 1970 he scored 4 goals against CSKA in 5-2 win – the first player of either team to score four goals in the derby. Yet, Kotkov was largely seen as a victim – fans sympathized with his refusal to play for artificially made club. But he did not join Levski because he wanted to play for the Blues; he came too old; and he played for Levski only two years. It was even felt that former Lokomotiv fans, now joining the ranks of Levski fans, did not really support Levski, but mostly protested the disappearance of their club and cheered only Kotkov, not the team. And finally – on national stage Gundy and Kotkov were great players, but Levski had many stars already and the debate who was the best Blue player ever revolved around Asparukhov and Georgy Sokolov, another great home grown legend, forced into retirement by the merger with the Police club. Unfortunately, Kotkov did not play long enough for Levski to become true legend. In the eyes of Levski fans, he was Lokomotiv legend – loveable, but foreign. For Lokomotiv fans – Kotkov was theirs, yet with a little grudge for moving to Levski

One of the many goals Kotkov scored with the red and black stripes of Lokomotiv.

Another memory of 1971 is tragic – the death of Georgy Asparukhov and Nikola Kotkov. Asparukhov – Gundy and Kotkov – the Kitten or the Tom-cat (the nickname comes from his family name, adoration in this case) were two of the best Bulgarian players in the 1960s. Gundy is still voted Bulgarian all-time best player, ahead of Hristo Stoichkov. Such classifications are always suspect and hotly debated, but one thing is not debated – both are the most loved players. Both were gentlemen players, elegant, never rough, accessible to fans. Kotkov (b. 1938 – d.1971) was Bulgarian player of the year in 1964. Asparukhov (b. 1943 – d. 1971) was Bulgarian player of the year in 1965. They played together in the national team and were close friends – something rare, for they played for different clubs until 1969. On June 30th 1971 they were going to play a friendly in the northern city of Vratza, with Asparukhov’s car. Gundy was driving. In the difficult mountain pass Vitinya the car run into truck carrying gasoline. The cistern exploded and in few minutes the players were dead.

The remains of the burnt Alfa Romeo.
It was not simple accident – it is still debated, and there are speculations that the accident was staged. No proof for that, but the story is dark even without conspiracy. Both players were unpleasant to the Communist government: they were too much loved by fans, and Asparukhov was the closest possible in Communist country to superstardom. Foreign clubs wanted him and the famous coach of Milan, Nereo Rocco, said ‘Asparukhov is my dream of centre-forward.’ Eusebio went to his grave to pay respect when visiting Sofia with Benfica later in 1971. Kotkov had huge fan base too. People, who hated the clubs Gundy and Kitten played for, loved the players. Asparukhov came to football late – almost 15 years old. He played volleyball before invited to join the junior team of Levski (Sofia). In the Bulgarian great divide, Levski is the ‘people’s club’, opposed to the ‘state team’ – the army club CSKA (Sofia). Unlike CSKA, Levski depended largely on players coming from their own junior team. But those players were not immune to obligatory military service – thus, Gundy played two seasons for Botev (Plovdiv), an army club then and satellite of CSKA (to the displeasure of Botev’s fans, for the club is old and founded before Communist rule). Thus, Gundy played for two clubs – Botev and Levski – 247 games in total, scoring 150 goals.

Gundy attacking Milan’s net in 1967. He was particularly dangerous in the air, easily winning high balls and scoring with attractive headers.

The search for ‘new’ Pele. By 1971 it was topical – the King was getting old. If the mark is set high, there is problem: it is not forever, but what comes after the genius? Nothing satisfies – humans are mortal, and death in football comes early. The old player is remembered playing much better few years earlier – it is time to die, or if you don’t like the word – to quit. But you don’t want him to quit – you want him to play as you remember him playing once upon a time. Reason confronts passion. You wait – impatiently – for someone young and new, who will produce such a magic, you will forget old times. Then there is the media… the hype journalists make also confronts reason. Reason says Pele is only one; there are no two players entirely identical. But Pele was so high above everybody else, that the expectations for replacement are… hopeless. To have a younger copy is not good, yet, nothing less is good. Nostalgia tells you the opposite: nobody can be better than Pele. And if you are Brazilian – the torment may lead to insanity. By 1971 the search for new Pele was already frantic. It is still going on on and perhaps it is impossible to trace how many junior players were hailed as the ‘new’ Pele so far. So, welcome the White Pele – or Zico.

Flamengo 1971:
Standing, left to right: Ubirajara Alcantara, Aloisio, Fred, Reyes, Liminha, Paulo Henrique.
First row: Unnamed masseur, Rogerio, Samarone, Ze Eduardo, Zico, Rodrigues Neto.

The picture shows some discrepancies: Flamengo, the most popular Brazilian club, is the ‘poor man’ club. The fans tend to be from the ‘favela’, the slums, and, therefore, stereotypically, in mass imagination,black. The line up is suspiciously white, though. And Zico did not come from the slums. How much mythology is at play here? Garrincha, but not Pele, is associated with archetypical poverty – yet, both are black and coming from poverty. Yet, Garrincha was and is the ‘love of the people’, whether Pele is the King… recognized, respected, but not loved. Yet, neither Garincha, nor Pele played for Flamengo ( Garrincha, I think, did a little stunt with Fla shirt, but not in his best years). Yet, the search was for ‘new Pele’, not ‘new Garrincha’ (an interesting avenue to explore, but not now) – and the white and middle class Zico was one of the candidates. Not so strongly in 1971, but strong enough to stigmatize him somewhat. Zico was 18 years old in 1971 and played 15 games, scoring 2 goals, for the first team of Flamengo. And he was… dropped to the junior team for the next year. At 18 (or 17 years and 249 days old at the beginning of the tournament) Pele was World Champion in 1958. Pele added two more world titles to his bio, appearing in 4 World Cup championships in total. Zico was never champion of the world and his first World Cup was in 1978 – when he was 25. On the other hand, Zico was 33 years old when he played his last World Cup in 1986. Pele played for the last time in 1970 finals – 30 years old and, at least in Brazil, lamented as too old. Pele never went to play club football in Europe, but Zico did. Yet, for a kind of Pele, he went to unbecoming club – Udinese (Udine). Hardly a Pele… the King had to be declared ‘a national treasure’ by the Brazilian government in the 1960s to keep him in the country. If the state did not pay Santos this way, the King would have been snatched by the likes of Real, Barcelona, Milan, or Inter. Udinese did not come close, even by a stretch of imagination, to these clubs. Sure, the King disappointed during the 1966 World Cup, but it was collective disappointment of the whole team Brazil… the King was injured early, and, being the King, blame washed away quickly. As for Zico – he had his lame 1978 World Cup, but no matter how well he played in 1982 and 1986, Brazil did not win another World title. A pale shadow… of which the King himself said that Zico was the only player coming close to him. The White Pele. Unlucky star? Not negative must be white.) Most likely the impossibility of satisfying unreasonable expectations – ‘new Pele’, what the hell is that? A player called Leivinha was also among the endless ‘new Peles’ and he played for Brazil in 1974 World Cup – four years before Zico. Now, who remembers Leivinha? Or may be one should remember him: after all, Pele never won Brazilian championship and Zico did it in 1980 for the first time. Leivinha was Brazilian champion twice with Palmeiras by 1974, and unlike the King and the Negative, he went to play for Atletico Madrid for five years (1974-1979), not for Italian ‘also run’ club or the ‘pensioners’ US league. Football is funny in a way, but in 1971 Zico, one of the brightest players of the 1970s debuted. The closest to Pele. In England, 1971 was the year Trevor Francis was noticed. Not the same expectations as in Brazil – Francis was hope for change, not hope for duplicating insanely high level. The World champions of 1966 were getting old, and youngsters were just the hope of replacing aging stars with new ones. Hence, England was ensured to stay a world football power and may be a champion again. Nobody tried to match 16 years old Trevor Francis to Bobby Charlton (in terms of stardom and high standards, that is, for Francis was centre forward, not playmaker. Then, Zico, a midfielder, was expected to be Pele, an attacker. Go figure.) And England been England in 1971… Francis, unlike Zico, was not a member of top club.

Second from left on the second row in the 1971-72 squad. Similarly to Flamengo above, Birmingham hardly featured any recognizable names that year. England been England in 1971… Birmingham City perhaps up and coming? Alas, no. Francis or no Francis, a mediocre team at best. Yet, Francis was in the first squad already in 1970 – he played his first game in 1971, barely 17 years old. One year younger than Zico. By 1974 he was a national player – not like ‘only promising’ until 1978 Zico. Different football cultures? Different pool of talent? Different expectations or desperations? Yes and no… The fact is, Trevor Francis (although with much shorter hair by then) was one of the great stars of the late 1970s. Like Zico. Like Zico, Francis won exactly nothing with the national team. And nobody would have said in 1971 that Zico and Trevor Francis will play in the same national championship. They did… between 1983 and 1985 both played in Italy: Francis for Sampdoria (Genoa), and Zico for Udinese (Udine). Well, nobody ever called Francis ‘the new Pele’, but in Italy he played for bigger club and longer than Zico. Well… was Trevor Francis a great player? Were Francis and Zico really great, or were they just inflated? Or were they cursed to live so close to legends? Close enough to suffer from unconsciously biased judgment? I love Zico from the 1980s. The one of 1978 did not impress me at all. I hoped highly for Trevor Francis in the early 1970s (must have been the long hair), but he was boring to me in 1980. Where is the truth? What is the truth to a football nut? In a nutshell, Zico and Francis combined do not come remotely close to the joy of watching Cruiff. Yet, both are related mostly to the 1970s, giants of the 1970s. And they started in 1971.

We have the so-called ‘G-14’ at the present – the group of big European clubs, which formally and informally pressure UEFA about their various needs and interests. One of their desires is the setting of their own international league. The big clubs get more than press attention – the former European club tournaments were reorganized at least in part because of G-14 threats. The Champions League is something like a compromise: the big clubs have their places in it guaranteed and not at all in the shady preliminary stages. They play on that level where big money appear, and the whole tournament comes dangerously close to the idea of separate league of the rich and mighty. All this came out in the 1990s, right? And no matter how much UEFA accommodate G-14, they are still unhappy and threat to run away. Money is the bottom line and it is quiet simple – a match between Real Madrid and BATE Borisov (Belarus) does not bring revenue neither from gates, nor TV, nor sponsors. Real Madrid – Juventus does. Naturally, to the general public the story is presented differently – profits are secondary to the real issue: the quality of the game. And it is true that playing small clubs at shabby stadiums in obscure countries spells low quality and no fun. And both club officials and fans fret that a superstar costing millions may injure himself in Belarus just before the important match in Turin. Well, it is old story.
Which I think I heard of in 1971 for the first time. Back then it was even attractive idea – at least for a kid, who dreams to see big games opposing big clubs. In 1971 it sounded new, just like in the 1990s it sounded new to many fans. Yet, it was old idea in 1971 – recently I was leafing old magazines and there it was:

An article from 1959 criticizes the idea of establishing European Super-league discussed by the owners of big professional clubs and on a meeting of representatives of the British, French, and Italian professional leagues. Santiago Bernabeu, the famous president of Real Madrid voiced the opinion for ‘rebirth’ of the football game, or rather the transformation of it from mere sport into a spectacle. The article was published in short lived Bulgarian magazine -‘Football’ - but it is a reprint from ‘Sovetsky Sport’ (Soviet sport), a Moscow daily, which still exists unlike the political system which christened it. The text is the usual Communist vitriol, unmasking yet another Capitalist plot, and is not worthy translating it even for fun. One thing, however, rings true – it was all about money. Big clubs were not happy playing small ones. It was different reality in the late 1950s, but the fight for independent big-club league remains with same arguments for almost 50 years. And I think – sadly – that the big clubs will get eventually what they want. It is not an attractive idea to me – it will convert European football into variety of US sporting format: same clubs play between themselves endless and largely meaningless games. Actually, the Champions League is already similar to that. Small clubs and very likely many national championships will simply disappear. This is hardly the real question, though – this seems certain and only a matter of time.
The real question is who are the big clubs. What is the criteria for ‘a big club’? Revenue? Success on the pitch? The number of fans? Combination of the three? Or the reputation of a country in football terms? Some culprits are obvious: Real Madrid, Juventus Turin, Milan and Inter from Milan, Barcelona, Atletico Madrid – they have been active promoters of the idea since the 1950s. Successful, rich, popular. Italy, France, and England negotiated in 1959, but the basis here was and is shaky: well established professional championships, but no French club was really rich, popular, or successful. And today is the same. In the same time successful Italian and English clubs from the 1950s went down later and were replaced by others moving up. Germans would have been included certainly, but which German clubs exactly? Bayern were obscure club back then. There was no really strong German club. Benfica Lisbon certainly would have been invited in the 1960s, but they are hardly among the big guys today. Well, who else? Such a league has to be somewhat vaster, not only combining clubs of three or four countries.

Today the mystery is the same: take the G-14. Manchester United and Liverpool (England), Juventus, Milan, and Inter (Italy), Olympique Marseille and Paris Saint Germain (France), Bayern and Borussia Dortmund (Germany), Ajax and PSV Eindhoven (Holland), FC Porto (Portugal), Barcelona and Real Madrid (Spain) are the original 14 from 2000. In 2002 4 more clubs were added: Arsenal (England), Olympique Lyon (France), Bayer Leverkusen (Germany), and Valencia (Spain). In terms of tradition, support, success, and even budgets the selection is weird. What exactly ever won the French clubs? Or Bayer Leverkusen? The Dutch traditionally run tight budgets, no matter what – are they richer clubs than, say, Galatasaray Istanbul or Panathinaikos Athens? Is it possible to think Borussia Dortmund ‘big’ club today? Why not Schalke-04? Is PSV Eindhoven more popular than the absent here Feyenoord? Is it enough to have clubs from only seven countries if the continent has now well over 50 states, and in football terms – even more, for Israel and Kazakhstan are part of the European football map. What about Russian clubs? They have increasingly growing budgets in the last years and the tendency is to get even more money. But if you get the Russians, what about clubs with traditions and passionate support? Like Crvena zvezda (Red Star) Belgrade or Steaua Bucharest? Are Chelsea and Liverpool in the same financial league today? Some giants of the past may be fading, like Benfica, Anderlecht, St. Etienne, but are Lazio and Roma to be ignored? Then again, what exactly Lazio and Roma ever won? The questions run into complete circle, a dead end. No matter what, football fans are conservative bunch – it would not do to create new clubs and spread them evenly around Europe.
On the other hand, 18 clubs is classic football league format. Get those 18 of 2002 and it will be more than decent championship. May be.
In 1971 it looked more interesting than it is today – the revenue was still primarily from the gates. At least for the kid I was then, such a league was attractive. Imagine the thrill of Manchester United playing Real Madrid. Then! The thought of watching game after game between ManUnited and Real horrifies me in 2008. When this happens, don’t count on me paying any attention. Actually, I feel fans have been robbed after 1990 – and I am not alone in that: tournaments became boring business instead of fun and passion. The old news I recall as important moment of 1971 is tremendously sad news. Futile too.

1971. Perhaps the biggest change was visual – long hairs. There were long haired players before, but not top level players and not that many. Haircuts were modest – even George Best looked like Beatles circa 1965 in 1970. In 1971 it was no longer so and quickly the new look became informative – exciting players were the longhaired ones, the new stars, playing free football. Shorthaired players were clearly boring, fading stars of yesteryear, representing the defensive, slow football of the 1960s. Soon not only long hairs were everywhere – even in Soviet Union – and by 1974 longhaired team was most likely to be the winning team. It is difficult to say why long hairs in football lagged behind long hairs in the other walks of life: after all, the ‘swinging 1960s’ established them. But football was conservative, clubs obviously restricted players’ impulses, and many of the stars from the 60s were not socially rebellious. The shift in football from South to North brought leniency or democracy, or combination of both: players in England, Holland, Germany grew their hairs first; Southern players not so. Club politics as well as larger politics, on state level, permitted or not the freedom of the players. Eastern European countries played state politics, but the story would be too long for narration here. Countries like USSR and Bulgaria often required their top level players to be ‘presentable’, but in the lower football divisions it was not so strict a requirement. Dictatorships in Greece and Spain also prohibited long hairs, but in other countries it was mostly restrictions on club level or simply the players remained old fashioned. Nevertheless, very soon it was evident that long haired teams and players were fun to watch. And add to that jerseys hanging loose, no longer tucked in shorts. And socks rolled down. Depending on the point of view, football was becoming either free, fun, and democratic, or rugged, undisciplined, and disrespectful. Yet, the new image was more than image – it was new football, winning football, wonderful to watch football, no matter who was grumbling against the look of the players. And it was infectious: even older stars grew long hairs. Long hair equaled quality.

Stoke City 1969-70

1971-72.
Looks equal quality? Well… two players born in 1951.

The wild features of Paul ‘Der Afro’ Breitner (in 1974): one of the biggest stars of the 1970s. World champion, European champion, German champion, Spanish champion, etc, etc.

Dusan Keketi was unusually clean cut for his time (the photo is from 1974 or 1975). Like Breitner, he was a big promise and part of the best Czechoslovakian club from the early 1970s – Spartak (Trnava). He was even in the first team of his club before the German was – debuted for Spartak in 1969; Breitner debuted for Bayern in 1970. But Keketi never made it to the top – there was always a better goalkeeper than him in Czechoslovakia. Of course, world fame never came. He remains in the shady category ‘unfulfilled promise’. Does haircut tell anything?

The best moment of 1970? Well, the year was rich and to select is difficult. But must be the amazing save Banks did at the World Cup against Pele. The fantastic save, which was reproduced in detail again and again.