1982 FIFA World Cup Official Film

Spanish keeper Arconada had his gloves on

the right way round tonight.

In desperation, Greenwood turns to Keegan and Brooking,

fit for the first time.

CROWD CHANT: England! England! England!

Almost immediately, Brooking creates a chance for himself.

And the near-misses continue.

Keegan's clumsy header finally signals the end of England's fight.

FINAL WHISTLE BLOWS

England went out, undefeated in five matches

and still respected by most of their fans.

A team designed to avoid defeat,

they couldn't produce a victory when it was really required.

Nobody knows what a fit Brooking and Keegan might have done,

or indeed a Hoddle so neglected.

SAMBA MUSIC PLAYS

Meanwhile, the Brazilian bandwagon was rolling on.

Now their team was to meet Italy for a place in the semifinals.

They need only draw to go through.

Dino Zoff, the 40-year-old Italian goalkeeper.

In training, the Italians don't look as graceful as the Brazilians

but then even Nureyev would probably suffer by comparison.

Enzo Bearzot, the lion-faced Italian manager,

reflects on the goals that beat Argentina.

Marco Tardelli finished a classic counter-attack.

And Cabrini tried to burst the back of the net.

Paulo Rossi, the young forward just returned from a two-year

suspension for a bribe scandal.

So far, he'd played as if wearing a ball and chain and had yet to score.

In theory, the match should have been a contest between

the dazzling Brazilian attack and the adhesive Italian defence.

In theory.

Instead, the Italians surged into attack.

After only five minutes,

Cabrini's cross finds the Brazil defence asleep.

Rossi scores and wakes from his private nightmare.

The Brazilians shrug.

They'd been behind to Scotland and the Soviets and still won

but Serginho, like a Sunday morning park player, misses drunkenly.

Socrates, the elegant Brazilian captain,

slots an equaliser with the surgical precision befitting a doctor.

1-1.

Now, the team orchestrate their supporters

and the carnival seems set to begin again.

But another lapse allows Rossi a second goal.

Brazil storm back, only to find that today

their shooting sights are misaligned.

Italy lead 2-1, the Brazilian supporters are still confident.

In the 68th minute, Falcao, who plays for an Italian team,

risks the sack by equalising.

At 2-2, the Brazilians could've coasted

but their natural instincts led them forward.

Then Rossi poaches his third goal.

His rehabilitation as an international forward is complete.

The Brazilian drums are suddenly silent,

the prelude to a last frenzied attack by their warriors.

Zoff saves miraculously to defy Oscar.

FINAL WHISTLE BLOWS

Brazil, the favourites, the champions of romantic football,

are out of the World Cup.

Spain catches its breath.

With Brazil and their own team gone, a sense of anti-climax prevailed.

Life returned to normal and forgot about football.

Then slowly, almost reluctantly, the country geared itself up

for the first of the semifinals - Poland against Italy.

The Poles had beaten Belgium, a hat-trick by Boniek, and drawn

drably with the Soviet Union to get to this penultimate stage.

They had already played Italy in a group match.

Now, thanks to a system even Einstein couldn't understand,

they are to play them again.

Italy are favourites.

The Poles are without the suspended Boniek,

the Italians without the suspended Gentile.

There's no doubt whose is the greater loss.

Gentile would have marked Boniek had they played

and is probably sitting next to him in the stands.

There's a sympathetic support for Poland

and a noisy, increasingly cocky Italian following.

Grzegorz Lato,

one of the few Polish players likely to trouble the Italian defence.

After 22 minutes of desultory play, an Italian goal.

Almost inevitably, it's Rossi.

The Poles threatened briefly and are unlucky.

Poland, sadly ineffectual, suddenly became sadly physical.

Conti suffered first.

Then Graziana was...well, pole-axed by Zmuda.

Revenge is quick,

as Conti's precision cross sends in Rossi again.

Five goals from Paulo Rossi in two matches had taken

the Azzurri to the final. He justified Bearzot's faith in him.

The Italian press, who had previously pilloried both men,

must've been eating an awful lot of humble pizza.

And there was only candidate for the man of the match award.

The second semifinal, West Germany against France.

The French had picked up the torch carried by Brazil.

Rocheteau's two goals against Northern Ireland were a fair example

of how much they'd improved since losing to England.

Manager Hidalgo had put his trust in a richly-skilled midfield

and improved squad spirit by sending home Larios,

who had been having an affair with the captain's wife, Madame Platini.

Football's not always about diagonal runs.

The Germans had arrived by a devious route.

An astonishing first-phase defeat by Algeria required a squalid,

non-aggression pact with Austria to get them through.

Timid against England and dourly efficient against Spain,

they could point to injuries as a partial excuse.

Tonight, they start without their star forward Rummenigge,

but he's on the bench if needed.

Mannie Kaltz,

reckoned one of the best crossers of the ball in the world.

Platini, back in form, caresses a pass.

Harald Schumacher, the German goalkeeper.

The French make the early running,

the Germans are dangerous from set pieces.

Suddenly, a German goal.

Ettori blocks and Littbarski threads the rebound.

1-0 to Germany.

Ten minutes later, Forster holds back Rocheteau

and the French have a penalty.

A kiss for luck.

And Platini equalises.

Schumacher shows his distaste for Six's challenge.

The message is clear - come near me and I'll do you.

When they break out, the French move with startling speed.

Rocheteau teases Forster then sets up Platini.

1-1 at half-time.

It's French flair against German resilience - a fascinating game.

Inspired by Platini, the French gain momentum.

Then substitute Battiston chases a through ball.

Janvion rages. Schumacher is unmoved.

Referee Corver seems slow to realise Battiston's plight.

Slow motion shows the extent of Schumacher's crime.

Schumacher clearly makes no attempt to play the ball -

he prefers Battiston.

The French get no penalty, Schumacher stays on the field,

Battiston is carried from it

and France are forced to use their second substitute.

Schumacher nearly repeats the dose on Rocheteau.

Stielike clears from the line.

In the dying minutes, both sides went close to winning,

but the match had more to offer yet

as though football was apologising for the loss of Brazil.

Extra time.

Now, the managers must breathe new life into their teams.

Coax them near the precipice. Rummenigge still waits on the wings.

After just two minutes, Tresor volleys France ahead. 2-1.

Rummenigge prepares for action.

With 23 minutes left, Rummenigge enters the fray. Too late, surely.

Giresse completes another glorious sweeping move. 3-1 to France.

Moments later, Rummenigge has his say. 3-2.

The Germans have new strength now.

The French, deprived of a substitute by Schumacher's foul,

can't replace exhausted legs

and their style won't allow them to play safe.

The inevitable happens.

Fischer practises such acrobatics on a mattress

and must have dreamt of a moment like that.

West Germany are level at 3-3.

FINAL WHISTLE BLOWS

After 120 minutes of enthralling play,

the sides couldn't be separated.

One of them had to die by football's version of Russian roulette -

the penalty kick.

-CHEERING

-The Germans are in the final.

For the French team, there are only tears.

Madrid, Sunday, July 11.

Inside the Bernabeu stadium,

preparations for the final begin.

Outside, the preliminaries will be less sedate.

JOURNALISTS YELL

HE RESPONDS

MUFFLED SPEECH

The Italian supporters seem in the majority.

The defeat of France has left most people outside Germany

with only one option...

Forza Italia!

Italia! Italia! Italia!

Italia! Italia!

MUSIC DROWNS CHANTS

95,000 spectators will watch the game.

Among them presidents and kings.

But, for one day at least,

the attention of the world will not be on them.

HORNS BLAST

The Italians have suffered a blow.

They will play without Antognoni, their midfield creator.

The 18-year-old Bergomi takes his place.

ITALIAN NATIONAL ANTHEM PLAYS

GERMAN NATIONAL ANTHEM PLAYS

West Germany, with all to play for,

will risk Rummenigge.

CHEERING

The Italians kick off.

Rossi - the Germans will be watching him like hawks.

An early run in shot from Littbarski is a false dawn.

The match stutters as each side tests the other out.

Rummenigge turns brilliantly

but his shot shows how much he's suffered.

The cameramen shouldn't worry.

At this stage, they're not missing much.

CHANTING: "Italia! Italia!"

Graziani has injured his shoulder again.

Altobelli replaces him.

After just six minutes,

the greatest day in Graziani's life is over.

Now Breitner's injured.

Next, almost incredibly,

it's hard man Gentile.

He's shaved off his moustache for the final,

perhaps to disguise himself from the referee.

After 24 minutes of shapeless play,

Altobelli crosses dangerously.

Briegel charges Conti even more dangerously.

Penalty to Italy.

The stretcher bearers hover like vultures

but Conti recovers.

After the firecracker,

Cabrini produces a damp squib.

Schumacher rejoices.

Oriali is brutally checked by Stielike.

WHISTLE BLOWS

Towards half time,

the game becomes even more fragmented.

HALF-TIME WHISTLE BLOWS

Half-time, Enzo Bearzot hurries to repair his team's morale.

No Antognoni, no Graziani and a missed penalty.

The old self doubts must be close to the surface.

MUSIC DROWNS SPEECH

WHISTLE BLOWS

The second half resumes in the same fashion as the first -

more spoiling fouls.

WHISTLE BLOWS

CHANTING DROWNS SHOUTS

WHISTLE BLOWS

Finally, in the 56th minute,

Italian bodies pile in on goal.

CHEERING

Number 20, Paolo Rossi, has done it again.

And the Italian president reacts like any other fan.

WHISTLE BLOWS

Now Italy must keep their concentration.

All teams are vulnerable after they've scored.

WHISTLE BLOWS

For once, Zoff fumbles

but Briegel can't take advantage.

For a time, West Germany threaten an equaliser.

WHISTLE BLOWS

Then Scirea, the superb Italian sweeper,

throws caution aside and breaks forward.

It's a significant move.

He waits for his moment like a matador stalking a bull.

Then delivers the killing thrust.

Tardelli scores...

CHEERING

..and goes into ecstasy.

The Spanish police, charmless to the last,

try to stop Italian celebrations.

Some chance!

Rummenigge, blunted by injury, quits the field.

WHISTLE BLOWS

Stielike forgets what he did to Oriali in the first half.

WHISTLE BLOWS

WHISTLE BLOWS

The Germans overhauled France's two-goal lead

but they know inside

that the Italian defence is a different proposition.

CHANTING: "Italia! Italia! Italia!"

WHISTLE BLOWS

Bruno Conti, whose wing play has been a delight,

fittingly creates the third Italian goal.

Altobelli is the scorer.

CHEERING

WHISTLE BLOWS

Amid the celebrations,

Breitner's goal is an irrelevance.

WHISTLE BLOWS

Bearzot even has time for a sentimental gesture,

bringing his old favourite Causio on.

And his team has the time to bait the weary Germans

in the traditional Spanish way.

-WHISTLE BLOWS

-The final whistle.

Italy have beaten West Germany 3-1

and are world champions for the third time.

For Enzo Bearzot, the result is a personal triumph.

For years he has been trying to drag his team

out of the wilderness of defensive football.

Now, he has shown them what rewards there are in attack.

At 40 years of age, Dino Zoff finally has the world in his hands.