GREAT FOOTBALL FIGURES AND SOME SPECTACULAR PLAYS
— Alejandro Scopelli | 11/09/1942 —

— Tell me, Scopelli, you have been to several countries that have witnessed three world championships. Who is the best player you have seen?

It was at one of the tables at Café Santos that a friend asked me this question, as if carelessly. I thought I could please him instantly, and I mentioned one name, and then continued with another, and so on, until an hour later the friend said goodbye without having been able to satisfy his question, and totally confused, because in my conversation there was me so many names have been considered that that good gentleman must have needed to breathe the fresh afternoon air to clear his dazed head and perhaps regret having asked such a question.

When I was alone, I began to meditate on what we had talked about, and I thought that the only way to explain myself and give satisfaction to my friend at the Café Santos was to think calmly and then take my impressions to the typewriter, so that it would take charge of setting them down faithfully on the white paper of my pad. The task was not easy, and when I wanted to begin by writing down a name that would rise above all others, I found that the memory of others prevented me from doing so. I was like that child to whom his father threw a pile of different coloured chips on a green mat and very seriously said to him:

— My son: I have to leave you alone for a moment, and when I return, I want to find in your hand the token that you like the most.

When the aforementioned father returned, the chips had disappeared from the green mat and were threatening to fall from the purret's little hands. The boy had pounced on the red token. convinced that it was the one that attracted him the most; but then he observed that the yellow also shone with a strange brilliance, and that the green was no less striking, finally, by dint of looking and thinking, unconsciously taking possession of all of them. This is how I also found myself, and not being able to simplify my choice, I resolved not to complicate my existence any further and I made with all those names a package of artifices, of which I light the fuse at this moment and let them rise to the sky, so that Precisely the The trajectory of this fire marks the parable that they followed in their football lives, starting from the bottom, mixed among the crowd, to become luminous stars upon reaching the heights and then slowly descending, little by little losing their brilliance, until going out definitively; but leaving a luminous trail in his career.

Before giving names, I would like to explain the surprise I had when, looking at those I had written down on a separate piece of paper, so as not to forget any of them, I saw that not a single one of the players famous for their popularity, and whose playing characteristics were based on the impetuosity and violent finishing of their shot, was among them. In fact, these names almost disappear from the football scene when the time comes to choose, because prudence and judgement advise not to mix them among the virtuosos who know how to use more than just their shots, and who represent something like the aristocratic class of football.

We have, for example, the case of Bernabé Ferreira, who became the most popular player in the entire Argentine Republic. He was an idol. The '32 season only has one name: Bernabé Ferreira. River became great for him.

He lived in Rufino, and when he stated that the train trip bored and fatigued him, he was transported by plane. One afternoon, while passing with the president of the club in front of a car dealership, he happened to say that he really liked one of those cars, and the next morning he had it registered in his name. 

Prizes were given to the goalkeepers who managed to remain unbeaten against him, and it was he who introduced the centre-forward shooting modality. However, in a meeting where they talked about our great strikers, nobody dared to place Bernabé's name next to that of Nolo Ferreira, Cherro, Ochoa, Seoane, etc. The fact is that the player of strength is eliminated when it comes to looking for the best; because, when we say best, we mean the one with the best class. In goals and plays, the situation, on the other hand, evens out, because as well as the beauty of a goal by Toro, which elicits phrases of admiration, there is also the unexpected or surprising goal by Lángara, which lifts us off our seats, enthusiastic, because of its fulmination. 

Fortunately, these two game characteristics exist in football, because nothing would be as boring as witnessing a match where all twenty-two players were virtuous or where rivals competed as to who could throw the ball highest and furthest.

But let's get back to the topic. I have stated several times that Nolo Ferreira has been the best player I have seen; but when I now take a look at what I have written down (and they are not all that should be), I understand that it is not advisable to risk making definitive opinions. Nolo was, without a doubt, exceptional; but so were Roberto Cherro, Manuel Seoane, Ludovico Bidoglio, Pedro Ochoa and others. The first of them, Cherro, with a technical and refined game and who also had a fearsome header, was a true sensation in our time. That goal he scored against us in the 31 reveals his great class. In the middle of the short field he passed the ball to his wing partner, and while he began a fast run to find a favorable situation and connect the center, Cherro, also in a fast attack, was looking for a position on the right side of the field. Together with the center, Cherro arrived at the place where the ball landed, more or less twenty meters from the goal. Scandone only managed to look at the trajectory of the ball, which he had propelled so precisely and violently with his head. It was a spectacular goal.

Pedro Ochoa has been perhaps the greatest of our dribblers, and the only one I have seen perform the masterful play of passing the ball to the wing over the head of the half, and making it fall just a few meters behind him, elevating it in such a smooth way that at times it seemed as if it would stop in mid-air. 

Bidoglio was a superior class defender, and when I saw Rosetta, Juventus back and great international, perform in Italy, I found in these two men such a great similarity in the game that it amazed me.

Seoane, for those who have not seen him perform, had the same characteristics as Moreno, the millonario insider, although the latter was much superior as a player to him. 

I have already said a lot about Nolo Ferreira, and his goal against the Paraguayans in the Sud-americano of '29 will hardly be forgotten.

I don't want to stay in Argentine football anymore; But first I need to do justice to Chueco García, whom I consider to be the best player in his position that has passed through our fields, and I think that is saying a lot. 

In Uruguay I would have to stop for a long time, if I wanted to pay fair tribute to all the stars I have seen and who must also be well known in Chile. My opinion on the matter only clearly distinguishes three men, without meaning to say that there have been no others of equivalent value. They are: Gestido, Nasazzi and Scarone. Three formidable men whose praise to the highest degree means having fallen short. 

When I arrived in Italy, I thought I would find few or, rather, no classy players. I pictured the impetuous, willful Italian player, but with little notion of technique. I was in a serious mistake. When I saw Meazza perform, I thought I had found the ultimate star of football, and I doubt, actually, that I haven't. If it wasn't for all these names I have here. Virtuoso, scientific and tough at the same time, he was a complete player. He played both high and low. He behaved the same way against strong defenses as he did against intelligent men. In short, something rare in the world football environment. His goals bore the seal of a Bull, like that of a Barnabé or a Cherro.

Rosetta, whom I already named; Ferrari, Combi and Bernardini are the names that deserve to be highlighted in a select and numerous group that gave Italy supremacy over European football, winning the world championship twice in a row.

Another man that I really liked and that I consider a real asset is Piola. This belongs to the category of undefined player, in the style of Zozaya or Drake, the English centre-forward. His styles reach virtuosity, but his characteristics as entering and determined forwards have impressed the public more, and then they were classified among the group that does not make it into this selection.

I know that Padilla has been an intelligent and technical centre-forward, the same as Drake and Piola. Under my responsibility I elevate them to the category of maestros and place them here so that they also fight for a place of honor in the readers' consideration.

I have seen the English perform on several occasions, and, apart from Drake, I have been very impressed with Collins, Bastin and Matthews.

Bastin played left wing, and he had the kind of physique that we were quick to apologize to when we bumped into them on the street.

In the match they played against Italy, in London, he made admirable plays of precision. One of them was the following, and the most formidable of all. The right half crossed the ball high and with great violence. Bastin took it on the fly, without caring much about the distance that separated him from the rival goal, and I don't remember having seen him deflect a single ball. The Italian goalkeeper had to do real feats to avoid the goal. Apart from this, Bastin was a great player.

Austria has had stellar figures, but I did not have the fortune to see them perform many times, and on the only occasion, the World Championship of '34, I saw a Sindelar, a little old, and with a Monti, who beat him up all afternoon. From these references I know that Sindelar was masterful, and so were several of his companions; But here it is not about speaking for others, but for what I have seen.

Veinante, a French player, was the only top class player I saw in France. He was really good and played both as an inter and as a winger. When I arrived in Chile and witnessed a match in which Fernando Riera was performing, his way of moving and feinting reminded me of someone. Today, by writing down Veinante's name, I found the solution to my question. They are identical even physically. There is no other man in France who comes close to him, so it can be stated, without fear of being wrong, that Veinante is or has been the best player in his country and capable of competing with those who appear in this article.

Since I am in this land of charms, I do not want to leave it without first remembering a move that left me perplexed, and that if it had happened in Buenos Aires, a few hours later a monument was erected in his memory. My companion in the Red Star, there was a Hungarian boy, naturalized French, with a violence in the shot that would have made Bernabé envious. We were playing that day on a field heavy with mud that covered our ankles and with a ball that looked like lead. A free kick is made about thirty meters from the goal. Simonyi shoots, and the ball, passing like a ball over the barrier of men, hits the crossbar, and, due to violence, flies to the starting point. Standing as he was, Simonyi took the ball and we could only see that it was tangled in a corner of the net.

No one explained how it had happened. The remaining twenty-one players ran to congratulate the author of such a superb goal.

Brazil also has genuine representatives of quality who even at times exaggerate their virtuosity. The black Domingos, Leônidas, Filó, Ministrinho (crowned before fifty thousand spectators), Lagarto and Tim, are among the best I have seen.

From Chile, the figure that I remember most clearly and that has impressed me the most is Saavedra, for his performance in the Montevideo World Cup, and also Toro, a brilliant forward in the South American Championship at night in Buenos Aires.

I couldn't make new names from Chilean football, for the simple reason that the times I saw their teams perform were very few, and almost always in matches where one only notices the man who is on the field, without retaining his name.

I do not wish to comment on the current players, as I did not expressly do so with those from Argentina and Uruguay.

In the final of the 1934 World Cup, in Rome, between Italy and Czechoslovakia, I saw, in the latter, two notable maestros and an exceptional goalkeeper. The left wing, formed by Nejedlý and Puč, and the goalkeeper Plánička. He was the best figure in his position in the aforementioned championship, which is equivalent to saying a fuori-class, as the Italians say.

Nejedlý reminded me of Cherro, and Puč seemed extraordinary to me. The goal he scored, which almost represented the victory for his team, I could never forget.

He received the ball in his own field and advanced resolutely. On three occasions he was knocked down, only to get up with more determination and continue his race, dodging all the rivals that came out to meet him. Thus he reached the goal, in a commendable personal effort, and beat Combi with an intelligent and well-placed shot. This superb play was followed by that of Mumo Orsi, who achieved the tie in a desperate action. The Italian team was retreating and defeated. The Czechs openly dominated. On a clearance by his defence, Orsi got hold of the ball and tried to move forward.  Observing that the back came out to meet him, he looked around him looking for a teammate to pass to. He saw himself alone. "What was I going to do?" he told me afterwards. The opposing goal was forty meters away, and it was better to try something before losing the ball. From his foot came one of the most formidable shots I have ever seen in my life. Plánička, who did not expect this outcome, hesitated for a second, and when he reacted it was already too late. Italy had achieved a draw and then, in overtime, defeated its rivals, obtaining the title of champion. They owe this title to the play of Mumo Orsi.

Of the Spanish I could place Zamora, Quincoces, Samitier and Padrón in the foreground. Quincoces, above all, pleasantly impressed me, and I do not doubt that he is on the same level as a Bidoglio or a Rosetta, and there are moments when he seems superior to any of them.

It only remains for me to refer now to some son of Hungary, a country rich in football players, and where it seems that they were already born with mastery of the ball. There are many names and it would be endless to write just the list of all of them. But before a Sárosi the other figures pale. I think he is the most complete player of those I have named. As a center he could rival Nolo Ferreira. Centre-half, with a Zumelzú, a Saavedra or a Gestido. As an inside forward, he was on par with a Cherro, and they say (I didn't see him perform) that he was equally formidable as a full-back. I can attest to the three previous posts. When he jumped to head, he gave the impression that once in the air he managed to rise as if moved by a spring that allowed him to head before his rival. He was so technical that many times I saw him sacrifice a goal by trying to hit the ball with the right and soft hit that is the mark of every star. In a match between the Budapest team and the Paris team he scored four goals, three of them by gently lifting the round over the goalkeeper's head. If he had not been a little apathetic, perhaps he would not have found an opponent in my election. River Plate went after him and offered him a fortune, but Sárosi did not want to abandon his studies and today he is called Dr. Sárosi.

It seems to me that I went too far and exaggerated the writing a little. Maybe ninety percent will refuse to follow me here. It's reasonable. But at least my readers have one advantage, that of being able to cut where they like and leave the rest for anyone bored on a rainy day. Think, however, of that poor friend who had to put up with my talk for an hour, without achieving any results. To conclude then, one last observation. Although I stopped specifically with some names to highlight any special condition of the athlete, I did not want to establish any preference. If I think of Sárosi, Nolo or Cherro come to mind; If it is in Veinante or Meazza, the memory of Samitier advises me not to define myself. I am neither more nor less like the boy with the tokens. After picking them all up, I have scattered them all over this carpet. It's up to you to pick up the one that most appeals to you. I, to get out of this mess, I hasten to put my signature.