It's often said that England considers itself special in the world of football, as the founders
of the organised game. For once, on October 23rd 1963, this attitude was actually appropriate, as
England celebrated the centenary of the Football Association (the world's first, of course) by
taking on a team organised by FIFA representing the rest of the world.
The latest in our classic programme cover series takes us back to a very unusual game, Bobby
Charlton's final ever match and his only appearance for Shrewsbury Town in a specially arranged
friendly against Zambia at their home ground of the time, Gay Meadow. The home team apparently won
4-0; it's unclear exactly why Charlton appeared for Shrewsbury, though he did do his national
service in the area.
Llegamos en Retrofootball al Mundial de Italia 90. Cambiamos de década y la
selección española afrontaba una nueva participación en una Copa del Mundo con
la ilusión de que fuera nuestro Mundial.
El Mundial de Italia 90 fue el Mundial de "Totò" Schilacci, de una gran
Alemania, de las lágrimas de Maradona, del "me lo merezco" de
Míchel, de la gran actuación general de Martín Vázquez, de
los silbidos de San Paolo a Maradona y aquel polémico Brasil-Argentina de octavos
de final, donde Branco, tras beber de un bidón de agua que "gentilmente" le ofreció el masajista
de Argentina, comenzó a marearse.
England, as you may have heard, will play the United States at the 2010 FIFA World Cup on June
12th of this year. This series will look at past encounters between the two; and no, we're not
starting in 1950. Instead, we will look at a hyped-up contest that took place between the two
teams, on May 29th 1959.
Robert Scorca is our in-residence South Florida historian. He is a regular contributor to our site
as well as to publications such as Miami Soccer Fan.
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The history of the Fort Lauderdale Strikers goes back before Fort Lauderdale. The team even goes
back before the North American Soccer League.
He hurtles down the muddy left touchline, shoulders square on, head down, shorts hitched up,
plain white socks a blur, heavy brown lace-up football at his feet as he bursts past floundering
defenders to the by-line before launching a cross into the path of an on-rushing team-mate. It
could be to Bobby Charlton for a net-ripping thunderbolt, or for gaunt-faced Dennis Viollet to
ghost onto and despatch into the far corner with a shimmy of the hips, or perhaps golden-haired
Albert Quixall will silence the critics again with a volley of unstoppable power.
