thrilla in sevilla a feature documentary for 2010.

In 1982, West Germany and France fought one of the most dramatic World Cup semi-finals, the first to be decided on penalties. A game that made history - and replayed Franco-German war history backhome. A game, in the words of George Orwell, that came to symbolise - ‘war without the shooting’.

“It had everything; joy, euphoria, hope, drama, emotion, injustice...it was like an entire life...the birth, the hatred and tears. Life, basically.” Alain Giresse, France.

THRILLA in SEVILLA

PROPOSAL CONTENTS

I KEY INFORMATION II FILM SUMMARY and CONCEPTUAL TREATMENT III CONTRIBUTORS/INTERVIEWEE’S IV DIRECTOR – BIOGRAPHY V BACKGROUND READING

THRILLA in SEVILLA : KEY INFORMATION

Co-producer (tlc) tlcreative ltd, London. www.tlcreative.co.uk

Contact: Tim Langford: 07973 909741/00 44 7973 909741/timlangfordfilm@mac.com

Genre

Factual Documentary: contemporary + archive.

Marketing/Peg

The next World Cup in 2010 will offer a window of opportunity for World Cup related films. The

1982 game continues to be discussed on the internet, in forums and has been the subject of

several articles and chapters in literature.

Audience

Male bias, 30 +, international. The treatment of the subject is designed to appeal to the non-football fan but clearly it will have intrinsic appeal to the football public throughout Europe and

beyond. The subject and the issues it raises are sure to provoke some controversy and discussion,

which should garner widespread publicity.

Proposed Duration

70 minutes.

Format

Widescreen, HD.

Language

English-German-French.

Key Elements Interviews (see Contributor section)

Archive (Sources – French/German/Spanish TV, News, FIFA, ESPN)

Scenes on location Music (Flamenco + 1982 European pop themes).

Director Tim Langford (see Biography section).

Research Consultant

Writer Tim Pears. C/ref Background Information below.

Locations

Germany/France/Spain/UK.

Proposed Approach

Small crew for documentary. Observational + formalised interviews + stylistic scenes.

Background Information

See attached Observer Sport feature story, 2008 (see Background Reading section).

CONCEPTUAL FILM TREATMENT : THRILLA in SEVILLA

- a 70 minute Feature Documentary -

Summary A documentary feature (70 minutes) for cinema and television distribution. The story of the game is told in the words of the players themselves, the managers, their respective teams fans – inside the stadium and back home watching it unfold on television – the FIFA officials such as the referee; and the wider football and non-football community. A story which re-lives and dissects an epic struggle through archive, documentary and extensive interviews: with the players themselves – such as Platini and Harald (Toni) Schumacher; to contemporaries like Arsene Wenger and Zinedine Zidane – officials, fans, journalists, writers and a wider public: from politicians and philosophers to psychologists. The sheer emotional sweep and dramatic arc of the story lends itself to a cinematic narrative: indeed the setting of the game (Seville and it’s Flamenco and operatic associations) and it’s story arc is like that of an opera. The game has been described as a night when ‘heroic endeavour trumped outrageous villainy’ (Observer, 2008). But this is also a wider story about the relationship between two nations and how the events on a football pitch impacted on their respective national reputations: The French emblematic Cockerel pitched against the German Eagle: two contrasting neighbours with all their respective certainties and doubts. A pyrrhic victory for Germany: a game that opened up painful memories in the French collective memory and forced the German nation to confront aspects of it’s national character: a match which triggered non-football emotions and awakenings. The film will, therefore, draw out the contrasting wider cultural and ideological issues that underpin the game: as George Orwell described sport ‘war without the shooting’. This is a contemporary journey back to 1982 (and by way of the collective memory of two nations at war in 1940), through Germany, France and Seville: it will re-visit the scene of the game – the Seville stadium (Estadio Ramón Sánchez Pizjuán) and the city itself.

-------------------------- In the 1982 World Cup, one game, the semi-final between West Germany and France, is remembered for the extraordinary torrid drama that unfolded in the heat of a Seville night.

“What happened in those two hours encapsulated all the sentiments of life itself.”

Michel Platini

As a football match it was billed as the clash of two schools of thought: German determination and will to win against French élan. After 90 minutes of building intensity – punctuated by free flowing, attacking play and incident; such as the notorious Schumacher foul that incapacitated Battiston – the two teams were tied at 1-1, extra time followed.

“Tell him I’ll pay for the crowns”

Goalkeeper Toni Schumacher

The atmosphere crackled, with a feeling less of a sporting occasion than of some événement, as if the players and the crowd were not in a sporting arena but all out on the street, and anything could happen. West German attacks were direct, pragmatic, incisive. The French either counter-attacked at thrilling speed or else slowed the tempo, worked their way slyly forwards. In extra time the French, led by the inspirational Michel Platini described as “the lead violin in a sophisticated string quartet”, scored twice to lead 3-1.

“I dies a thousand deaths before I decided to risk further injury…”

Karl-Heinz Rummenigge, watching from the bench

108 minutes in, led by Rummenigge, Germany had fought back to level the score and like two blind, exhausted fighters the teams slugged it out. But for the first time in World Cup history the game was decided by penalties with Germany winning 5-4 in a nail biting dénouement. French manager Michel Hidalgo recalled the France players were “inconsolable” afterwards, adding: “They were crying like children in the dressing room.”

“Bottles of champagne abandoned…grown-ups seen crying for the first time…old wounds

rekindled that we thought had healed. The biggest football game of the century, at least for France…”

French Broadcaster and Writer Pierre-Louis Bass, aged 9 in 1982

“People witnessed a great injustice. The match reignited the Franco-German

antagonism that had faded.”

Michel Hidalgo

__________________

Conceptual Treatment The story will use a classic 3 Act structure – building to an operatic like climax: 1st Act: Setting the scene, the build up and first half: 2nd Act: Second half and extra-time: 3rd Act: Penalty shoot-out and the aftermath.

We hear the clapping, then stepping movements of the Flemenco dance ‘The Sevillanas’….We are traveling through the back streets of contemporary Seville in Andalusia, as the sun sets on a humid Summer evening…towards the football stadium …We hear the words of Michel Platini…recalling the metaphorical heat of the occasion – and the heat of the sweltering night of July 8th, 1982 – and how he felt inside, waiting in the dressing room before the game…

We rapidly cut between close-ups of the movements of players with the ball, swishing and turning, jostling and tackling, running and twisting with the ball at their feet…and intercut the rapid foot stamping movement of Flamenco dancers…back and forth from football to Flamenco…as we hear from a writer, describing his ideal fantasy of a game of football “an exhilarating dance, in which, with our opponents, we create something beautiful"…

… We arrive at the empty stadium…litter blowing across the terraces… the Flamenco stepping and clapping build…as we hear from two adversaries on the night,

Toni Schumacher and Patrick Battiston describing how they prepared for the game...as we glance around the stadium, the ambient heat rising, we hear a Flamenco guitar…then singing…and flash cut to 1982…via news archive of the stadium on July 8th, 1982…then images of the World Cup in Spain…

…And cut to the ceremonial line-up of West Germany and France at their semi-final…and cut to the singing and hard stepping movements of Flamenco and…back to the faces of the footballing protagonists singing their respective national anthems…Platini…Battiston…Schumacher…Rocheteau…Hrubesch….then back to the Flamenco dancers. They reach a climax and the performers face each other in a series of proud and provocative poses…as we hear the national anthems over the Flamenco dancers watching each other and cut to the faces of the players… The film’s title – THRILLA in SEVILLA

- rolls across screen…underscored by the quickening tempo of the Flamenco soundtrack…as we introduce the 1982 World Cup, a fast montage of images of the event…and then gradually see and hear from members of the two football team protagonists…Germany and France…

cont. ‘CONTRIBUTORS, OVERVIEW’

CONTRIBUTORS, OVERVIEW Summary Players, managers, officials, fans, journalists, writers, philosophers and psychologists…

FRANCE (1982 TEAM) : CONTRIBUTORS/INTERVIEWEES Michel Hidalgo, the Manager of the French team: “People witnessed a great injustice. The match reignited the Franco-German antagonism that had faded.” In the post-match dressing room he described the inconsolable players as - “crying like children.” Alain Giresse: “It had everything: joy,euphoria,hope,drama,emotion,injustice…It was like an entire life.There was the birth…the hatred, even and tears. Life, basically….” “I still have a knot in my stomach and it hurts to this very day.” Dominique Rocheteau, dark and handsome, with the flowing ringlets of a musketeer…the fans called him ‘The Green Angel’. Noted for his forthright far-left views and involved with the French Communist Party. Michel Platini: “This was my most beautiful game, What happened in those two hours encapsulated all the sentiments of life itself.” “If only we had realised how good we were.” Maxime Bossis, who went back a long way with Platini: they had done their military service together – how did that inform their attitude and solidarity? Bossis, for many, ‘encapsulated the spirit’ of the team and France. Didier Six, who shot poorly and saw his crucial penalty kick saved. Patrick Battiston, through on goal, then brutally struck by German keeper Toni Schumacher, collapsed into a coma and taken to hospital. Famously, Platini kissed him as he was carried away on the stretcher. GERMANY (1982 TEAM) : CONTRIBUTORS/INTERVIEWEES Toni Schumacher, goalkeeper, on Battiston’s injury inflicted by Schumacher: “Tell him I’ll pay for the crowns” – on knocking out Battiston and his two teeth. For many the chief villain of the game. Voted into 2nd place behind Hitler in a French newspaper poll. Paul Breitner, the teams ‘marshal’ and driving force.

Karl-Heinz Rummenigge, on the sub’s bench watching for 90 minutes, sidelined by injury: “I dies a thousand deaths before I decided to risk further injury…” Horst Hrubesch, given the nickname in Germany of ‘The Header Beast’: Brian Glanville called him ‘a human Panzer division in himself’. Hrubesch scored the winning penalty. Uli Stielike, defender: Fell down on his knees in his despair when his penalty shot was saved. Keeper, Toni Schumacher went over to console him and told him “don’t worry, I’ll save the next one”. After he did as promised, he pointed without smiling to Stielike as if to say ‘I told you so.’ Pierre Littbarski, who scored the opening goal. Klaus Fischer, who scored a spectacular equalizer, in extra time, to bring the scores level to 3-3. OTHER CONTRIBUTORS/INTERVIEWS Zinedine Zidane, famously sent off in his last game for France, on Alain Giresse’s goal: “He had an anger and a desire when he scored, with his little arms shaking.” Eric Cantona, former ‘maverick’, rebellious player turned actor. Potential narrator of the film and interviewee. Jurgen Klnsman, former international player and coach: “We try to concentrate on our power…until the adversary finally cracks and is overwhelmed.” Franz Beckenbauer: Who confided to the press his opinion about France, shortly before the ’82 game, “it must be hard, because they hate playing physical.” Arsene Wenger, Arsenal Manager. Lothar Matthaus, former international German captain, with outspoken views about German identity. Pele, who described footballer Alain Giresse: “I liked how his brain was organising things on the pitch…the European footballer of the 1980s.” Charles Corver, the Dutch Referee, who controversially refused to send off the German goalkeeper Toni Schumacher. Pierre Rigal, renowned French experimental choreographer and maker of video’s, created the dance ‘Judgements Thursday’, in 2006, inspired by memories, as a 9 year old,

of the game on television. He based it on the ‘82 semi-final game, the dance took the shape of a tragedy – weaving together mythologies and collective memories with the rites of passage from childhood to adulthood. Likens the game to a passage of initiation for a 9 year old child. The French players ‘frail and enthusiastic’ facing the ‘ogre German’s, rigorous, disciplined, aggressive and physically bigger’. It brought to mind something deep in the French psyche about the Second World War, “Sport…can also catalyze myths, fantasies and clichés. This was the case tonight in July 1982.” Brian Glanville, English football writer and broadcaster: He likened the German defence to characters not out of place in some war film and likened the French midfield to “four artists”, Michel Platini “the lead violinist in a sophisticated string quartet.” Harald Martenstein, German Columnist: “What can we be proud of…of the Goethe-Schiller-Beethoven culture complex, but what do the kids in Manila know about that? We are left with the global visiting-card of soccer.” Georges Boulogne, French technical coach. Appointed in 1970 as chief training officer by the French Football Federation: He set out to revolutionise football in France ‘blending skill and physical endurance’ and nurtured the seeds of the team that played in ’82, Pierre-Louis Bass, journalist, writer and host on ‘Europe 1’, (co-wrote a biography of Eric Cantona, made an album with Zinedine Zidane and Christophe Dugarry: Wrote of watching the game as a 6 year old. He described the scene in his parents living room, post-match, “Bottles of champagne abandoned…grown-ups seen crying for the first time…old wounds rekindled that we thought had healed. The biggest football game of the century, at least for France…” He wrote, 25 years later, he finally came to understand the reasons for the defeat. Jean Cau, French philosophical writer: “Everything is war. From 1914 and 1940. From 1982 when, for the third time in a century, France faced Germany in a match and on the battlefield in Seville.” Laurent Lasne, French author of Football Uber Alles: A book about the Franco-German relations on the football ground and in the trenches. Set out to reconstruct, through meetings on the pitch, the development of political relations between the two countries. Tim Pears, English writer and novelist (consultant research/interviewee): Wrote the Observer Sports Magazine feature article about the game in 2008. Likened the ideal of sport as an ‘exhilarating dance’ in which two sides create something beautiful (an echo of Michel Platini’s philosophy) and yet so often the game of football is about national self-esteem, using sport as a metaphor for war where one side attempts to dominate the other: in the words of the author of ‘1984’, George Orwell, “war minus the shooting.”

DIRECTOR – brief BIOGRAPHY Tim Langford (of tlcreative ltd) is an, award-winning director-producer (2008: Clarion Award – Best Video, ‘Torn’/IVCA Silver and Bronze ‘Torn’ in Best Documentary and Charity/Welfare) and writer with broadcast credits ranging from the BBC, MTV and Channel 4 to overseas broadcasters: RTE, MBC and Chello. He has worked freelance and through his own company (tlc ltd) for many years: working across drama, documentary, corporate communications, advertising, marketing and promotions. His short film work is curated at the British Film Institute in London. His career has taken many diverse twists and turns from running an audio-visual production agency for a local authority and managing an independent production company; to making fashion videos; interviewing Al Pacino for Channel 4. His current documentary work includes the cricket docu-drama ‘Cut-n-Run’, a co-production with an Indian studio, about the real life slumdog-style story of Indian street cricket, from the slum to the stadium. He is the director-cinematographer of the feature documentary ‘Ali Richard - Shakespeare in Arabia’, a fly-on-the-wall odyssey filmed across Syria, the United Arab Emirates, Kuwait, Iraq, The Lebanon and Washington earlier in 2009. Part screw-ball style real-life farce and part serious dissection of the contemporary Arab world, the film follows a group of well known Arab actors on tour, performing Richard the Third to Sheiks, princes and paupers. He is also the co-writer of the Indian feature screenplay ‘The Desire’ which will star Shilpa Shetty, to be directed in Kerela by Indian film director Sarath. Recent films include the groundbreaking film on UK asylum seekers ‘Torn’ and the picaresque documentary ‘Hamlet in Kuwait’, exploring the psychological state of Kuwait after the Gulf War.

BACKGROUND READING

'My most beautiful game' This is how Platini described France's 1982 World Cup semi-final

against West Germany, a match of high drama and one notorious foul.

Tim Pears recalls a night on which heroic endeavour trumped

outrageous villainy

Tim Pears

The Observer, Sunday October 26 2008

Article history

Football matches imprint themselves upon the memory for a variety of reasons. Contrary to what

one may imagine, it is rarely for the quality of play. The connoisseur, drawn back to classics, is

often disappointed by how play has moved on: great players of the past now look slow- witted.

One match, however, when returned to, proves to be of an astonishing quality: the second semi-

final of the 1982 World Cup, between West Germany and France. Michel Platini was the French

captain that night and has said: 'That was my most beautiful game. What happened in those two

hours encapsulated all the sentiments of life itself. No film or play could ever recapture so many

contradictions and emotions. It was complete. So strong. It was fabulous.'

West Germany's presence in the semis was not widely welcomed. In their opening group game,

Algeria, 1,000-1 outsiders to win the competition, had beaten the European champions 2-1. After

Algeria defeated Chile in their final group game, Austria and West Germany met a day later knowing

that if the Germans won by either one or two goals they would both go through.

The first 10 minutes were played at a furious pace until the deadlock was broken by a Horst

Hrubesch goal for the Germans. Thereafter, for the remaining 80 minutes, both teams strolled

around the pitch, passing the ball sideways and backwards. There was not a single meaningful

shot on goal. The outraged, largely Spanish crowd yelled 'Fuera, fuera' ('Out, out'). Algerian

supporters waved banknotes at the players. One West German fan burned his national flag in

protest.

The West German camp failed to appreciate what all the fuss was about. Coach Jupp Derwall said:

'We wanted to progress, not play football.' When fans gathered in front of the squad hotel,

demanding the players justify themselves, members of the team threw water-filled balloons on their

own supporters from the windows of their rooms.

Their semi-final was at the Estadio Ramón Sánchez Pizjuán, on 8 July 1982. Kick-off was 9pm but it

was a muggy night in Seville, with the temperature in the high nineties. France had a day fewer to

recover from their last group match, but this handicap had been balanced by nature, a stomach bug

affecting their opponents. The Förster brothers and striker Klaus Fischer were among those

affected.

Michel Platini and the bearded Manny Kaltz, standing in as captain for Karl-Heinz Rummenigge, who

was on the bench with a damaged hamstring, shook hands with the officials: Dutch referee

Charles Corver and his linesmen, Swiss Bruno Galler and Scot Robert Valentine. The captains

tossed a coin, swapped pennants. There was a noisy, carnivalesque atmosphere.

During the early stages Germany were in charge. Paul Breitner, the only survivor of West

Germany's 1974 World Cup-winning side, had retired from the national team but been persuaded

back by Derwall: playing now not at full-back but in central midfield, Breitner had become his team's

marshal. He would set off on diagonal runs, driving into space in French territory, spearing passes

for his colleagues to run on to. A sense of purpose coursed through German moves.

In the 17th minute Breitner cadged the ball off midfield grafter Wolfgang Dremmler just inside the

France half and, seeing space ahead of him, burst into it, brushing off Didier Six's feeble challenge.

Breitner headed towards the middle then, faced by a wall of blue, veered off towards the left

before stabbing the ball with the outside of his right foot perfectly into the path of Klaus Fischer.

Jean-Luc Ettori rushed out from his goal and dived at Fischer's feet: he blocked the run but failed to

gather the ball, which rolled slowly back out towards the edge of the penalty area. It was teed up

nicely for young Pierre Littbarski, West Germany's find of the tournament, who drilled it through a

litter of French bodies and into the net.

One-nil.

Where the West Germany players seemed to have settled to a similar tempo, the same speed of

thought and movement, the French were more moody. Marius Trésor and Bernard Janvion in the

middle of the defence and Maxime Bossis on the right all had their socks rolled down, Bossis with

his shin-pads flapping out, as if to flaunt their insouciance. Up front the team were light and lop-

sided. Dominique Rocheteau had made his name as a pacy right-winger at Saint-Etienne. He was

dark and handsome, with the flowing ringlets of a musketeer; fans of Les Verts called Rocheteau

'The Green Angel', although his looks belied both his work-rate and, rare for a footballer, his political

awareness: known for his left-wing views and association with the Revolutionary Communist

League, today Rocheteau is head of the National Commission of Ethics of the French Football

Association.

Playing as a lone striker, however, was too great a burden, especially as he received little help

from Six - a winger with corkscrew hair, an ornamental player out on the left who occasionally

drifted inside to scant purpose.

If the France forwards suffered in comparison with those behind them, it could be said that so

would anyone. The midfield was led by Platini, described by one journalist as 'the lead violin in a

sophisticated string quartet'. Patrolling the ground between centre circle and opposition penalty

area, Platini was invariably in the right place to receive a pass and did so alone, when one might

have expected an opponent to be beside him. He then became the still centre of a hurtling world,

aware of all that could happen. For a moment it was as if the other players became satellites of his

calm mind. He would make a pass into inexplicable space, which it would take a second or two for

the game to catch up with: Bossis or Jean Tigana ran on to the ball, and only then could everyone

see how exquisite the pass was.

The rest of the quartet was not bad. Alain Giresse, just 5ft 4in, had a good engine and a lovely

cushioned touch with his right boot. Tigana, a team-mate of Giresse at Bordeaux, had not become a

professional until his early twenties, spotted as an amateur while working as a postman. Though

slight, and elegant, Tigana was a powerful runner with the ball. He also had a markedly slow

heartbeat and tremendous stamina.

The fourth member was Bernard Genghini, a leggy left-footer as elegant as, if a little less effective

than, his colleagues. 'Four artists,' as Brian Glanville puts it in The History of the World Cup, 'no real

hard man, no tackler, among them.'

Having scored their goal, there was no let-up in West Germany's attacking momentum. But France,

too, began to string passes together. Trésor drove forward in a manner rarely seen from stoppers

today. Full-back Manny Kaltz caught Genghini after the ball had gone. Genghini bit him back, but

France had the free-kick, midway between centre circle and penalty area on the left-hand side.

Giresse floated the ball with the outside of his right foot into the right-hand side of the area. Platini

outjumped Dremmler to head the ball towards the six-yard line, where Berndt Förster made his

clearing volley easier by wrestling Rocheteau out of the way with an arm around his waist. Corver

had no hesitation in blowing his whistle and pointing to the penalty spot.

Platini kissed the ball before placing it on the spot, and walking backwards. On the goalline,

chewing gum, gloved hands on hips, Harald Schumacher glared at the ball, at Platini, at the

effrontery of a penalty awarded against West Germany. Platini kept walking back. For a moment it

looked like he might forget to stop walking. He reached the edge of the penalty area, and still kept

going. Was he intimidated by Schumacher's cold-eyed gaze? Still he kept retreating, right through

the arc outside the penalty area. Finally Platini stopped, began walking, then jogging, back.

Schumacher flung himself to his left. Platini struck the ball with the flat of his right foot, sending it

just inside the opposite post.

One-all, after 27 minutes.

West Germany resumed possession. The game was rougher 25 years ago than it is today. The

France left-back Manuel Amoros had got away with hacks at Littbarski; now Tigana, scuttling with

the ball out of defence after a West German attack had been repelled, was brutally taken out by

Dremmler in a way that now would earn an instant yellow card, at least.

Trésor made another irruption into the West German half, passing the ball, continuing his run

towards the left-hand corner flag, receiving the return pass, laying the ball back to Amoros, who

crossed. Six flicked it on ineffectually, too far from Platini, too close to the goalkeeper. Schumacher

contrived not only to gather the ball unimpeded but to keep moving and thump Platini's thigh with his

shoulder. Platini, wincing, complained. It was an act of petty aggression for which Schumacher

knew he would receive no punishment - he had the ball in his hands, no referee would have given

a penalty - but it was a taste of what was to come.

The second half was barely under way when Rocheteau received the ball in an unthreatening

position out on the right, facing his own goal, whereupon Berndt Förster, running up behind him,

jumped and somehow kneed Rocheteau in the shoulder. It was an imbecilic assault, for which

Förster was fortunate to receive only a yellow card.

Genghini had taken a knock and, unable to run it off, was replaced. As Patrick Battiston ran on to

the pitch a West German cross from the right drifted all the way over to Bossis, who controlled the

ball, dummied first to pass it back, then to hoof it upfield, only to waltz around Felix Magath and

Fischer before releasing the ball to Tigana on the right. Tigana slipped it inside to Battiston, who

played a one-two with Giresse then sped forward, fresh legs devouring ground, before blasting a

left-footed shot narrowly wide.

The most striking impression, watching the match at a distance of more than 25 years, is of a less

disciplined yet more intelligent game than is played today. Every outfield player appears to have had

greater autonomy. Both teams passed and moved with thoughtful fluidity; they bristled with

intelligent purpose.

West Germany continued their pressing game. Midfielder Magath was like a little eel, slipping into

pockets of space. Breitner played his sharp passes, probing for a way through the ribs of the

French defence. But the defence stood firm.

France began to take the upper hand. A Platini free-kick 10 yards outside the West German area

cannoned off the wall. Giresse floated a lovely pass from just inside his own half, out on the left.

On the edge of the penalty area, Rocheteau seemed to judge the flight of the ball better than Berndt

Förster: it drifted beyond the German, bounced once, and Rocheteau scuffed it past the onrushing

Schumacher. But the referee had blown, deciding Rocheteau had impeded Förster.

Then Platini cut in from the left, dribbling past Kaltz across the face of the area, feinting past Uli

Stielike, but shooting wide. The ball was swallowed by the sea of French fans. Many waved

tricolores, while close-ups showed others with cymbals, trumpets, hooters. They were having a

good time. Schumacher stood glaring, waiting for the ball to come back, but it was held on to, less

by an individual, it seemed, than by the crowd as a whole. When, eventually, a Fifa technician gave

Schumacher a fresh ball, he mimicked hurling it at the French fans, before taking the goal-kick. Had

we just seen a humorous gesture - 'Would you like this ball too?' - or was it mockingly aggressive?

After some seconds of surprised silence, boos began to be heard.

Barely a minute later came the incident that has acquired such notoriety. Bossis won the ball with a

superb tackle on Dremmler, and passed to Tigana, who laid it inside to Platini. With a momentary

glance Platini appraised the scene before him, saw Battiston charging forward and floated the ball

into the air.

The pass had just the height, pace and backspin to take it beyond Karl-Heinz Förster, to a spot

where Battiston would reach it before the sweeper Uli Stielike, coming from the left, or Harald

Schumacher charging out.

Battiston got to the ball first and kicked it over the oncoming keeper's head. Everyone's gaze

followed the ball, which bounced narrowly wide of goal, so people only glimpsed that Schumacher

had made contact with Battiston. Watching replays, it was clear what had happened. As the

German journalist Ulrich Hesse-Lichtenberger puts it: 'Just prior to crashing into Battiston he

[Schumacher] did a little jump and turned his upper body in order to ease the impact. Ease it for

himself, that is, as the helpless Battiston was hit in the face by Schumacher's hipbone with full

force, immediately going down unconscious.'

France players - and the West Germany captain, Kaltz - surrounded the stricken man and began

waving for help. The French physio and doctor ran on, and immediately called for a stretcher. By

grim chance the Seville police had, for some unknown reason, barred Red Cross officials from the

sidelines. It took three minutes for a stretcher to appear, lifted up from some basement store

beneath the stands. Eventually uniformed men with Red Cross armbands trotted on.

Schumacher, meanwhile stood, impassively at the edge of his six-yard box, ball under one arm, the

other hand on his hip. According to Hesse-Lichtenberger: 'His body language said: "Get the guy off

the pitch so that I can take my goal-kick."'

Giresse and Janvion came to the touchline to tell their manager, Michel Hidalgo, what had happened

to Battiston, and to work out how to rearrange the team, only for a Fifa official to step between

them, since coaches were forbidden from discussing tactics with their players during the match.

Hidalgo, furious, grumbled back to the dug-out.

One might have thought the captain would have been the one to confer with the manager. But not

this one. Platini later said that he thought his team-mate was dead. 'He had no pulse. He looked so

pale.' Finally Battiston was carried off, accompanied on one side by a medic, on the other by Platini,

who walked along bent towards Battiston's ashen face. The unconscious player's right arm

flopped over the side of the stretcher, and Platini took Battiston's hand. He spoke softly to him as he

walked. As they neared the edge of the pitch, Platini raised Battiston's hand and kissed it.

Battiston lost two teeth, had three cracked ribs and damaged vertebrae, and was unconscious for

almost half an hour. But now that he was off the pitch, play restarted, with indeed a goal-kick for

West Germany, and no word of reprimand for Schumacher.

A new substitute, Christian Lopez, came on for France and play got going. It appeared that if

anything West Germany had been chastened by the incident, while France were hunting the ball. A

purposeful fury seemed to burn through the team. Once, when the ball ran loose out on the left,

Trésor chased after it and took off for a tackle like a long-jumper, a murderous, studs-up lunge from

which Kaltz wisely stepped aside. While the referee reproved Trésor, Platini walked behind and

ruffled his hair in blatant approval.

The atmosphere crackled, with a feeling less of a sporting occasion than of some événement, as if

the players and the crowd were not in a sporting arena but all out on the street, and anything could

happen.

France attacked with further s wift interchanges. But they could not score and now West Germany,

midway through the half, began to stir again. Hans-Peter Briegel galvanised his team with one of his

powerful runs out of defence. Magath almost got through on the left. Dremmler shot from the right,

Ettori getting down well to hold on to the ball.

After 72 minutes little Magath was replaced by his Hamburg club-mate, blond giant Horst Hrubesch,

known as Das Kopfball-Ungeheuer, the Heading Beast. Hrubesch was just about as big as Briegel,

who was 'a human Panzer division in himself', according to Brian Glanville. Kaltz, Schumacher, the

Förster brothers, too, could easily be imagined playing starring roles in some war film. It was hard

not to notice the marked contrast to the multiracial French. Trésor had been born in Guadeloupe,

Janvion in Martinique, Tigana in Mali, Lopez in Algeria. Platini, Amoros, Genghini were the children or

grandchildren of immigrants. At the 1998 World Cup, Platini would not be alone in his opinion that

'the people who talk about a black, white and beur [North African] France were 30 years late.

France has been black, white and beur for a long time. I was shocked by this discussion in '98.

These people do not look around themselves very much.'

By now, all four full-backs were wonderfully adventurous - Kaltz whipping in his bananenflanken,

Bossis roaming forward - and they ended up more often tackling each other, overlapping, than the

putative attackers. Didier Six, well placed on the six-yard line, shot tamely straight at Schumacher.

At the other end, Breitner fed Briegel, who evaded Bossis's tackle and shot against the spread-

eagled Ettori. The game was once more open, swaying one way then another. West German

attacks were direct, pragmatic, incisive. The French either counter-attacked at thrilling speed or

else slowed the tempo, worked their way slyly forwards. The better France played, the easier they

made it look, trading the ball between each other, the West Germans apparently unwilling to

intercept.

With less than five minutes left, Tigana picked the ball up in his own half and surged down the right

past first Breitner, then Briegel, and sent a marvellous cross hanging perfectly to the far post,

where in the absence of a defender Rocheteau managed to get in Six's way, depriving the winger

of a clear heading opportunity. The last chance of the 90 minutes, surely.

But no. France once more gained possession. Platini laid the ball into the path of Amoros with a 20-

yard gap in front of him. Amoros drove forward and from 35 yards out let fly a missile of a shot.

Schumacher dived in vain, the ball flew over him, dipping, and on 90 minutes and 02 seconds hit the

underside of the bar... and bounced out.

There was, necessarily, a good deal of injury time to be added, in the third minute of which Tigana

lost possession to Breitner, outside the left of the France penalty area. Breitner shot towards the

far post. Ettori dived to his left but fumbled the ball: it dribbled away from him and, as he scuttled

after it, Klaus Fischer bore down like a bird of prey. Denied a chance all night by Janvion, he was

suddenly presented with this morsel. It was a race between the tips of Ettori's gloves and the toe

of Fischer's right boot, which the Frenchman just, bravely, won, poking the ball away for a corner.

One-all, at full-time.

Now the managers could talk to their players, who collapsed on the grass. Trainers, physios, subs

came on to pass round water, massage the muscles of tired legs.

Those of us watching then - as now, so many years later - knew that we were witnessing

something extraordinary, but few could have imagined how much more these players were to give

us. In the third minute of extra time, Briegel obstructed Platini out on the right, and now something

inexplicable happened. The penalty area was packed. As Giresse shaped to dispatch the free-kick,

France players began to move, to dart this way and that, their markers shadowed them, and at the

moment Giresse's cross arrived the middle of the penalty area was suddenly empty. Except for the

French sweeper, Marius Trésor, who stood all alone just in front of the penalty spot. With perfect,

joyful technique, he walloped the volley into the net.

Two-one.

The French celebrated and when play resumed there was something hectic about their movement.

They dashed helter-skelter. It appears, watching the match again, as if they were intoxicated with a

sense of justice. A wrong had been done, and was being put right, and the more they attacked so

the more justice would be served. They broke forward again, Tigana shooting wide.

Jupp Derwall brought his injured but totemic captain, current European Footballer of the Year Karl-

Heinz Rummenigge, off the bench in place of Briegel, and the substitution jolted the Germans: a

shock of effort rippled through the team, sending them pulsing forward, without threatening the

French goal. On the contrary. In his own half, Giresse tapped a simple free-kick up the right to

Rocheteau, who advanced and squared the ball to Platini on the front edge of the penalty area.

Faced with three defenders ahead of him, Platini sent the ball on across to Six on the left. Six

controlled the ball and then, in his most positive contribution of the match, caressed the ball from

one foot to another while others moved around him: Platini went forward then suddenly out to the

right, dragging defenders with him as if magnetised. Into space in the middle came Alain Giresse,

and now Six laid the ball off gently, invitingly, into his path. Giresse met the ball with the outside of

his right foot, giving it a flight path that curved outside Schumacher's dive and then inside towards

the goal, glancing in off the right-hand post.

Three-one, in extra-time.

France did not sit on their lead, by playing square passes simply to keep possession. They wanted

to score a fourth, and surged forward. Six was fouled, another Platini free-kick. This one ripped

through the wall and cannoned back off Schumacher's chest.

'Germany are dissolving,' the commentator Martin Tyler said. 'I can't remember ever saying that

about a German side.' Giresse, Rocheteau, the marauding Bossis, Tigana and Platini attacked all

together down the right. Six was in the middle ahead of them. This was how these musketeers

would protect their lead: attack in numbers. Giresse was fouled and lay in pain. Rocheteau stopped

playing to attend to his comrade, but the French retained possession and the referee waved play

on. A moment later Platini was bundled off the ball: no free-kick was given and suddenly the French

had lost possession with half their team stranded high upfield. Rummenigge and Littbarski combined

on the vacant left, Stielike joined in, the sweeper at last making an advanced contribution with a fine

pass out to Littbarski, who floated the ball forward into space at the near post between the France

defence and the goalkeeper. Janvion and Rummenigge ran forward, Ettori rushed out, all three

lunged but the West German got there first, and with a deft, incisive flick sent the ball past Ettori and

fractionally inside the near post.

Three-two after 103 minutes.

Into the second period of extra time and, if there was a lesson to be learnt, France showed no sign

of having learnt it. They seemed incapable of common sense or caution: compelled to win with

s washbuckling style, they recalled the writer André Breton's dictum that 'beauty shall be

convulsive, or not at all'. But all this emotion was exhausting. Tigana would keep running all night

and Rocheteau remained a courageous, willing target man. Trésor was a towering figure at the

heart of the defence. But all around them, one by one, French players were coming to a standstill.

West Germany advanced down the left, Littbarski crossed, Hrubesch headed back from the far

post into the middle. Klaus Fischer had been dominated throughout by Bernard Janvion. But a top-

class striker has to be obtuse, undismayed by all that has gone before, eternally alert to that one

opportunity. There were two defenders plus the goalkeeper on the line, but Fischer met Hrubesch's

lay-off with a brilliantly executed bicycle kick into the top corner.

Three-three after 108 minutes.

Janvion was limping. Platini was drained. But still the game remained open. Like two blind,

exhausted fighters the teams kept going. From a West German corner Fischer knocked the ball back

into the danger area. Trésor leapt to head clear and the ball was worked up to Six, who played it

out to space on the right into which Tigana - clearly in pain still from an earlier collision - struggled:

he reached the ball before Stielike and shot, well wide. It was the last significant action of the

game. Moments later Corver blew his whistle.

'So, abominably, irrationally and unforgivably,' as Brian Glanville wrote, 'a World Cup semi-final

would be decided, for the first time, on penalties.'

Giresse, Kaltz, Amoros, Breitner and Rocheteau all scored. Uli Stielike shot weakly, Ettori easily

saved. Stielike collapsed, curled up on the ground. Eventually, as if his body had doubled in weight,

he dragged himself up and stumbled back towards his colleagues in the centre, bent head in hands,

weeping. Littbarski came to meet him, and escorted him back, arm around the older man's

shoulders.

But then Didier Six shot softly to Schumacher's right, for an easy save, and Littbarski evened things

up at 3-3.

Platini and Rummenigge scored. Next up came Maxime Bossis. An exact contemporary of Platini -

the two born just five days apart in June 1955 - they had done their military service together in the

Joinville battalion, and their 10-year international careers ran in tandem. If Platini embodied the art of

this team, Bossis encapsulated its spirit, and was prime candidate for man of the match. He struck

his penalty to Schumacher's right, and watched as the goalkeeper dived the same way: although

the shot was a half-decent one, the save was easy enough.

Horst Hrubesch now lumbered up, and shot low and hard for the winning penalty. West Germany

were through to the final.

As Jupp Derwall asserted afterwards: 'You must give my players the credit they deserve, they

showed such strength of character.' And so they had. 'The taste, however,' according to Brian

Glanville, 'was exceedingly sour. Michel Hidalgo, by nature quiet and moderate, condemned

Corver's flaccid refereeing. "We have been eliminated brutally," he insisted.' Even in a recent

interview, the wound for Hidalgo was still fresh. 'People witnessed a great injustice. The match

reignited the Franco-German antagonism that had faded.'

When Schumacher was told after the match that Battiston had lost two teeth, he said: 'If that's all

that's wrong, tell him I'll pay for the crowns.' In a post-World Cup poll in a newspaper for the least

popular person among the French, Schumacher shaded Adolf Hitler into second place.

In the final Italy, to universal approval, won 3-1. According to Ulrich Hesse-Lichtenberger: 'The

[West Germany] side returned home expecting to be hailed as the second best team in the world.

Instead, the squad was met with frosty silence, if not outright disgust.'

Two years later, on home soil, in the 1984 European Championship, France would pursue the

destiny of which they had been robbed. Genghini's place in midfield was taken by Luis Fernandez,

who ate up the ground and won the ball for the three artists around him, in a quartet that was given

the sobriquet Le Carré Magique, the Magic Square.

Playing with both panache and conviction, France won the tournament; Platini was the outstanding

star, scoring from midfield nine of his side's 15 goals. Yet such is his insight into the meaning of

sport, that no memory equals that torrid night in Seville, when he was on the losing side, but in

every significant way emerged a winner.

Where are they now?

France

Patrick Battiston

Despite losing two teeth and suffering vertebra damage in the Schumacher challenge, Battiston

doesn't bear a grudge: 'I feel no hate,' he said in July. The defender retired in 1991 after a second

spell at Bordeaux and is now coach of that club's reserves.

Didier Six

The winger became a French pioneer in English football when he joined Aston Villa in 1984. He now

runs a summer soccer camp in Metz, but wants a pro coaching job - in 2007 he complained that

getting into management in France was like joining the mafia.

Marius Tresor

The scorer of France's second extra-time goal, Platini's predecessor as captain was named one of

the 125 greatest players of all time by Pelé in 2004. He finished his playing career at Bordeaux in

1984, and is now a director and assistant coach at the club.

West Germany

Harald Schumacher

Nicknamed Toni, his international career was ended by allegations of substance abuse he made in

a 1987 book. Schumacher now owns and runs SportsFirst, a consultancy agency with Bundesliga

club Schalke 04 and the German FA on its books.

Karl-Heinz Rummenigge

The striker retired in 1989 before returning to his first club, Bayern Munich, as an executive in 1991.

He became the club's chairman in 2002 and has since also become chairman of the European Club

Association, the larger successor to the G-14 lobby group.

Pierre Littbarski

Scorer of West Germany's glorious opener, Littbarski ended his playing career in Japan in 1997. He has since become a well travelled manager in the J-League, Germany, Australia and Iran. He left struggling Iranian Premier League team Saipa in October.