The left-hander appeared from the right side in the area, he was already close to scoring, but perhaps a little covered and with a less skillful profile; then at full speed he stepped onto the ball backwards, South American style, passed the famous Billy Wright in beautiful style (still passing…), placed it to the left and shot into the middle. a height that shook the net. Pulitzer at the ball. The English narrator, unaccustomed to such wonderful maneuvers, let out a spontaneous “Uuuuuuhhh…!” It was Ferenc Puskas who signed his signature at Wembley. It was on a date that remained written in the annals of this game: November 25, 1953. For the first time, the inventors of football, who are considered invincible at home, lost at their mythical stadium. Hungary beat him 6 to 3. And the scoreboard doesn’t reflect the exhibition (you can see it in full on YouTube). The whole of England was dazzled by the fascinating and killer play of the Magic Magyars, and especially by the quality of the number ’10’. Such talent has never been seen in the British Isles.

“We thought we were the teachers and they were the students, but it was the other way around,” said Bobby Robson, sir football. In his early twenties, Bobby was one of the 100,000 spectators that afternoon at Wembley who came out dim-eyed. There was no television then and no one could believe what they saw. Many fans left the stadium believing they had witnessed something supernatural. English football lived in a bubble, believing that because they were the pioneers, they were the ones who played it best. That day they realized that they were very far away. It was marked, forever, “the match of the century”.

“We have never seen that style of play. We didn’t know any of the Hungarians, we didn’t even know about Puskas. “All these fantastic players are like they came from Mars,” added Robson. It was a kind of Guardiola’s Barcelona, ​​but six decades earlier. England, who played a linear, mechanized game with little technique, found themselves in front of a company of artists. Everything was on touch, flat ball, dribbles, brakes, crochets. Only 42 seconds had passed when Nandor Hidegkuti (how nice Hungarian names sound…!) tried from outside the area and shot into the high corner from goalkeeper Gil Merrick: 1-0. A hundred thousand Englishmen in the stands must have thought it an accident; Corrections would come. However, what came was a ballet responsible for these phenomena that echoed strange names such as Ferenc Puskas, Zoltan Czibor, Sandor Kocsis, Jozsef Boszik, Laszlo Budai, Jeno Buszanski, Mihaly Lantos, Jozsef Zakarias, Guyla Lorant… The world would get used to pronouncing them, since the world press reported this feat abundantly and soon they will compete in giving nicknames such as the Mighty Hungarians, the Magic Hungarians, the Golden Team, the Danube Gods…

6 to 3 was really very short. Hungary shot 35 times on goal compared to 5 for England. The disaster could have been bigger. “They were so superior to us that we couldn’t contain them,” said Syd Owen, England defender. The following Saturday, Owen played for his club, Luton Town, against West Ham in a local tournament. Malcolm Allison, a West Ham player, said he went to shake Owen’s hand before kick-off and asked him what the horrible experience was like against Hungary: “It was like playing in front of aliens,” Owen replied.

That Hungary was education. Gusztav Sebes, a studious coach, who lived for that team and had the idea that most of them play in the same club, if possible, at most two, in order to reach an understanding, joined that crack meeting. He achieved this thanks to the support of the communist government: eight were active in Honved, and six in MTK. Then each number was completely identified with a position on the field, and Sebes changed the numbers of his men on that foggy London afternoon, confusing the English. On top of that, the Hungarians were constantly changing positions. Everything conspired.

That brilliant demonstration revolutionized thinking about schematic European football; there was a new way of playing based on dodges, fakes and short passes that were unstoppable. And hard British football, of running, crossing and heading, realized that it was really the opposite of those precious movements. However, in England the victory was taken as a sham; In another crash, things would go back to their place. And there was a demand for a rematch, which was played six months later in Budapest. The temptation was even greater: Hungary defeated the queen’s children 7 to 1. But the new exhibition did not have the same resonance as the one in London. Never like the first time.

The return to Budapest was apotheotic. Upon arrival in Paris, at the Gare de Nord, the crowd was waiting for these artists in cherry-colored shirts to applaud them. As if they were French…! From Paris, they took another train to Budapest, and after crossing the Austrian border and entering their homeland, the residents of each city turned to the railway and forced the train to stop for a hero’s salute. So until arriving in the capital.

The authorities of the Workers’ Party, which controlled the federation, set a prize of 2000 forints to play at Wembley, the task was so masterful that they decided to increase it dramatically. “I think they gave Puskas 50,000 or 100,000,” said Dr. György Szepesi, the famous Hungarian radio host who spoke to the nation that afternoon from Wembley.

In 1956, a revolution broke out against the Soviet Union, which ruled the country, and was crushed. Sensing what was coming and taking advantage of the tours they were constantly doing, many of the stars of the team stayed in other countries and the team disbanded. Czibor and Kocsis signed for Barcelona. Others did not leave for fear of retaliation by the Party against their families. Puskas decided to go into exile, the regime pressured FIFA that no other country in the world could play, and the number 10 was left hanging. He lived on what he could, settled in Italy, participated in friendly matches. He stayed like that for 18 months until Emil Osterreicher, a Hungarian coach who was his friend, took over Real Madrid. Osterreicher asked the Santiago Bernabéu to hire him. The great president of Madrid rejected him, but after a year he was convinced and Puskas, at the age of 31 and after fifteen years in football, began a golden era with Di Stéfano.

It was not for the World Cup nor was it used to raise the trophy, but to make the football world shine. Yesterday marked the 70th anniversary of that 6 on 3, one of the epics of football alongside the Uruguayan Maracanazo. (OR)