Belgium, my tribute, my way

Day -812. WorldCup2018

This may not be the time or place. What it is, just like I felt compelled to do about Turkey last weekend, is a tribute to Belgium in a way I know how to.

Belgium was part of my early football education. In the first World Cup in my memory they were the mysterious team with exotic names like Erwin Vandenbergh, the scorer of the winning goal in the opening match against Argentina. Argentina were the defending champions and this was a huge surprise and this made Belgium very interesting for me. My first World Cup and I loved them as underdogs already. Maybe they were pretty good and had a history of good football, but I was just going on what my fresh World Cup mind heard. Vandenbergh had scored the first goal at the 1982 World Cup and Belgium had beaten the world champions. Belgium. I even liked the sound of that country.

In later years, I was always struck by players like the flamboyant goalkeeper Jean-Marie Pfaff, the solid defender and captain Eric Gerets, the classy "continental" (when he played in Newcastle) defender Philippe Albert, the silky skillful Enzo Scifo, and the almost-world-class-stars Marc Degryse and Luc Nilis. There was something about these Belgian players that gave them more appeal, for me anyway. They were great to watch, great proponents of the cliched "beautiful game". But they somehow weren't stars like their peers: Platini, Zico, Van Basten, Gullit, Baggio, Lineker. They all managed to be amazingly talented players in a very talented Belgian team who all didn't have the stardom factor. And maybe they were happy with that. Maybe it was the low key Belgian way.

In 1994 Belgium and Holland played one of the most enjoyable matches I have ever watched at a World Cup.  It was end to end, it was clean, fast and spectacular without being overly so. Two neighbouring countries playing without the wasted energy of playing like bitter rivals. And that sleek defender Phillipe Albert scored the winning goal.

In the 1986 World Cup one of Belgium's notches in fooball history (the other being that here they were in a World Cup semi-final) was that they were the team that was ripped apart by two magical Diego Maradona moments in his World Cup.

But here's the happier memory for Belgians (together with ecstatic Belgian commentator) and where Belgium entered my conscience.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z1LVA64E2o8