It was the tenth world final, the fifth in which the South American national team did not participate and the first in history in which the same nation represented two national teams: West Germany and East Germany. One was the champion, the other had the merit of being the only one to beat her. It was the last World Cup for Stanley Rous. Before the final took place, he had already lost the position of FIFA president and a fundamental change in the history of football would take place: João Havelange entered, who would universalize this sport, and above all the world championships. The Netherlands, a new power in the making, sent Brazil, the great dominator of the time, to play for third place.

The 1974 World Final could not have had better protagonists. The Netherlands had six Ajax players (Cruyff had already played one season at Barcelona, ​​but came after nine years at Ajax and eight years in the national team with the same coach and teammates). The others were Suurbier, Haan, Krol, Neeskens and Johnny Rep). Johan was one of them. Germany produced six players from Bayern: Maier, Beckenbauer, Schwarzenbeck, Breitner, Uli Hoeness and Gerd Müller. Added the following: Ajax won the European Cup in 1971-72-73, and Bayern in 1974, and would then win in 1975. The greatest possible European constellation. Best of all, Bayern’s half-dozen played at home: the Munich Olympics. Which one was on top. 75,200 spectators could see it on the page historical event: the exchange of flags between the two inhabitants of football Olympus: Franz Beckenbauer and Johan Cruyff.

It was a precious duel because of the quality of the protagonists and the tension with which it was played. It was two machines. For the record, we analyze it 49 years later, without the emotion of the moment and the circumstances, the latter so relevant. Football has already started to be similar to the current one. Not with today’s speed and technique. After sweeping the previous games, the Netherlands arrived with the sign of favourites, even when the home team was ahead, what a home team…! Germany. The game was very, very even, and the winner was whoever scored the most goals.

One event was ultimately decisive: Helmuth Schön assigned a pressure marking expert – Berti Vogts – to hunt down Johan Cruyff, the genius demon. Cruyff, aware of the tactical move, ordered all his teammates to go forward, and he (center) stayed in the middle of the field, so Vogts did not follow him. They passed the ball to Cruyff, he started everything from the central circle, already packed he slipped past Vogts, and on entering the area Bonhof knocks him down: a clean penalty. Neeskens did it too much in the middle, but Maier threw himself before the point and the Netherlands won 1:0 a minute later. Unusual start, unexpected. Cruyff did his mischief, despite the strategy of the German command. Vogts would no longer leave him and the mythical number 14, far from the zone, would devote himself to taking corners, free kicks and even lateral kicks, so as not to fall prey to Berti, the implacable mastiff. This removed the frequency that his huge category heralded as he had to move away from the area. Technically he was a 7 point player, Cruyff, but his courage, decision, intelligence and tactical ability were incredible, all 10. Germany made him feel the rigor, Schwarzenbeck made a terrifying attack from behind. But the Dutchman did not hold back at all.

Germany presented a team with eleven cracks, certainly the best in its history: Maier; Vogts, Schwarzenbeck, Beckenbauer and Paul Breitner; Bonhof, Overath and Uli Hoeness; and above Grabowski, Gerd Müller and Holzenbein. There were no weak points, they were all excellent. And they acted very solidly and decisively. Schwarzenbeck was impassable, a physical rock with a face only a mother could love; he resembled the executioner of the Russian mafia. And Breitner only lacked an ax and a horse, but he leveled the cities. That sensational formation of Jongbloed was opposed by the Netherlands full of football and courage; Suurbier, Arie Haan, Rijsbergen (Feyenoord’s outstanding libero) and Ruud Krol; Jansen, Neeskens and Van Hanegem; Johnny Rep, Cruyff and Rensenbrink (this one, with a bad performance).

Unlike the 1966 final, in which he went unnoticed, Beckenbauer was an imperial figure this time. Now he played as a defender well tucked in the back (in London he was a midfielder), he was commanding respect and category, losing his class. Probably one of the most elegant footballers in history, he walked past his rivals without looking at them, almost ignoring them, as if they didn’t exist. Colossal personality. He could have been a marshal, emperor, chancellor of Germany or president of Mercedes Benz. He had absolute mental control over the stage and his universe: teammates, opponents, referees, audience. He went out to play, hit it almost always with three fingers and was a specialist in the passing game, timer of the jump and header. His gift of command and his composure under all pressures are second to none in the area.

Germany did not despair even though they were losing 1-0 from the first minute. Beckenbauer gave a clean start, handed over command to Overath in the middle and he orchestrated with the four devils around him: Bonhof, Hoeness, Grabowski and Holzenbein. And upstairs, lurking, fierce Müller. Germany began to tread. Holzenbein, a dribbler, entered the Dutch 18 avoiding his feet and was brought down by Jansen. Criminal. Barbara’s Breitner certainly did it (they say he never shot a penalty) and equalized: 1 on 1. He shot low to one side, and Jongbloed didn’t even move. Nothing to do with today’s shooters. In 42′, Bonhof skipped past Jansen on the right, the center back and in his typical spin, Müller scored with a low and surprising shot to make it 2-1. It would be sanctification. Germany imposed its authority on the field and justified the victory. A psychological goal, the Netherlands felt the blow.

That Teutonic dominance lasted until 20 minutes into the second half, when the Netherlands, with courage and play, started to put it behind and create situations for an equaliser. And he certainly deserved it. But Germany closed well in defense and held on with a very efficient Maier and the traditional German attitude: granite. In addition to the goals, Germany had 6 clear entries on Jongbloed’s goal, and the Netherlands had 7 on Maier’s goal. This speaks of the parity of the process.

Very interesting: although he was a 9 par excellence, Müller played with the number 13, 9 was assigned to Grabowski. And among the 22 titles there was not one with 10. Television was already in color for those countries that had that system. In Argentina, we receive it in black and white. The novelty of replaying the game was introduced, not much, just goals and a little more. Germany, in its economic glory, organized the Olympic Games right there in Munich two years earlier and hosted the World Cup with nine new, very modern stadiums. There were three yellow cards for the first time in the World Cup final, in Mexico 70. And there should have been more. The Englishman John Taylor, generally a good referee, did not want to disarm the party. He could have warned more and even forgave Cruyff a red card for an attack on Sepp Maier who already had a card for protesting. They were making him nervous, Germany were playing to undo Cruyff to win the title, they knew they were facing a phenomenon. His influence waned, it was a winnable game. And it was like that. (OR)