Brazil are back! Kind of....

I feel like my life is coming around in a circle of sorts. Not a full one, but there definitely is a roundness to it.

In 1982 and '86 staying up to watch late football was a struggle. In 1990 and '94 staying up late had become the norm. For USA '94, some matches were timed perfectly with coming home from a night out. If I remember correctly, but I may have not even remembered the next day, one such night I came home, at around 3am, to the sound of my brother calling me to the tv as Romario had just scored against Sweden. But now, the battle to keep myself alert past 10pm, to not give in to the allure of a soft pillow is a struggle returned. After a rare night out and with eight days to go until this project is over, a late summoning of my 1994 memories is in order.

Football and Malta had always gone hand in hand for me growing up. There was the huge celebrations when Italy won in '82. We drove home from my grandfather's house after the final through a mass of flag waving people on the seafront, amidst a din of honking cars. I found it hard to imagine that the celebrations could be any better in Italy. And of course there was Brian Moore, Big League Soccer and the man who read the results from England every Saturday afternoon on BBC World Service  with the perfect emphasis so you knew which team had won, or if it was a draw, before he said the second team's name. At about this time I discovered the joy of going to the "stadium" by myself. It was a 1/2 walk from our house and was the one stadium where all the top division league matches were played in Malta. It was also where the European Cup matches were played, and the Euro and World Cup Qualifiers. It was the stadium. It was here that I saw Malta take the lead against West Germany before going down 3-2. That was our victory, after all the six, seven, eight nil defeats. Live English football on tv happened sometime in the late eighties, but you had to be lucky to receive the Italian channel. It all depended on what way the wind was blowing.

By 1994 I was into my second year of University in England. Football on tv was a new experience, accessible and enjoyable. There were live matches, with English commentary and that nice man on the BBC, Des Lynam, made smart remarks, and was almost as entertaining as the football. And that's where USA '94 started for me, on my last day in England before going home to Malta for the summer. Spain played South Korea on that opening day, after Germany beat Bolivia in the opener. Spain-Korea (2-2) was extra special, watching it in England on English tv. The next day normality returned as I was on a plane to Malta.

Somehow in 1994 I still had a Walkman. Were they not extinct already? I remember because I turned it on as we flew over Italy and heard that Ireland had scored against Italy. It still seems bizarre that I picked up an Italian radio station. Also, I guess, there was no "please turn of your electronic devices" back then. So, indeed, Ireland had beaten Italy. England hadn't qualified so there was lots of bandwagon jumping-on for Ireland.

1994 had some wonderful matches, and lots of surprises of the kind that were enjoyable. Not the ones where one team attacks for 89 minutes, hits the post 5 times but then ends up losing to the weaker team on a goal scored via a deflected free kick awarded for a questionable foul. There was Romania's fantastic 3-2 win over Argentina where all three Romanian goals were masterpieces. Bulgaria came out of nowhere and not only won a World Cup match for the first time, they were also wonderful in defeating Germany in the quarter finals. Holland and Belgium played one of the most open, free flowing World Cup matches ever seen. Probably the best 1-0 I have ever seen with the winner, for Belgium, ironically scored by a  defender. Belgium then played a part in another beauty, the 3-2 loss to Germany in the second round.

Brazil, after the disaster of 1990, had now become a hybrid team, a mix of the need to win with a little bit of entertainment, much of which came from their attaching duo Bebeto and Romario. They safely made it through the first round, edged past the US in the second and then came to glorious life in the second half of the quarter final against Holland. Bebeto and Romario put them 2-0 up before Holland scored two of their own. It was Branco, the left back, who scored the winner from a free kick with a shot that stayed low over the grass as it whizzed past the Dutch wall and goalkeeper at a phenomenal speed.

For the third World Cup in a row, Maradona, stole the show. This time, it was more of a sad, desperate attempt to be in the limelight. He scored against Greece and celebrated like again he had been possessed by his demons from Naples. Indeed, soon after, he became the only played I can think of who was kicked out of a World Cup for testing positive to something he should have known better than to take.

Italy and Brazil made it all the way to the final. A few times Italy looked like they were done, toast, ready to pack their bags, but somehow they fought back and were now looking at upsetting the neutrals' favourite again. The Final was, sadly, forgettable except for Roberto Baggio missing a penalty in the shoot-out to hand Brazil the win.

Far off the pitch in California, in a hot un-airconditioned house in Malta I sat with my family for the last time to watch a World Cup final. The added bonus was that BBC tv had made it to Malta, so we would enjoy Des Lynam and co. We had returned to the village we grew up in, in a different house. The house gave us lots of happy memories, as it was the house for the new generation, the grand-kids on their holidays. Once again, my mother watched with us, giving us her tidbits of information read in the English newspapers. I'm not sure if she was at that time already sitting in what became her chair where she sat and watched, but maybe not enjoyed, many more World Cups.

The house is no longer, the chair and it's occupant neither. Ever since that day in 1994, World Cup finals with my family have been shared through a phone call before kick off with a prediction of the result. This year, we will brought together again and on July 13th there will be another reason why my life will have, almost, come full circle.