What it’s like to...

Play in a legendary World Cup game

Manuel Amoros
Rotary Club of Arles-sur-Rhône, France

In 1982, when I was 20, I received my first invitation to join the French national soccer team and got to compete in the World Cup. I was selected Best Young Player of the tournament and scored a memorable penalty shot in the semifinals.

But the highlight of my career was our quarterfinal match four years later at the 1986 World Cup in Mexico. The game, against Brazil, began at noon on 21 June at Jalisco Stadium in Guadalajara. It was scorching hot and very humid, and we had to deal with the pollution and the high altitude. They provided oxygen tanks to help us cope with the severe conditions. I had never seen that before, and I haven’t seen it since.

Some people called a contest between France and Brazil a dream match. The coach of the Brazil team said he thought it the equivalent of the final game of the tournament, and one journalist wrote that everything that came after would be anticlimactic. Two hours before the game, there were already about 30,000 fans there — eventually the crowd swelled to 66,000 — and most of them were Brazilians, chanting and dancing. So Brazil definitely had a home-field advantage.

For this matchup, our coach, Henri Michel, had changed tactics and told some of us to play different positions. We were all at sea and immediately realized the new system wasn’t working out. Brazil scored after only 17 minutes. We had to reorganize quickly, which is not easy in the midst of a game. We went back to our usual positions, and shortly before halftime, Michel Platini, our captain, scored a goal.

In those days, water breaks were unheard of, and with the high caliber of play, the ball rarely went out of play. Our medical team filled small plastic bags with water and tossed them to us from the sidelines, making sure the referees didn’t notice. About 15 minutes before regulation time ended, with the game still tied 1-1, Joël Bats, our goalkeeper, fouled an opponent and drew a penalty. The Brazilian players started to celebrate as if they had won the game, which I thought was arrogant and quite presumptuous. And I was right: Zico, a god in his country, took the penalty shot — and Joël stopped it.

We had a fantastic opportunity in the second overtime when our striker, Bruno Bellone, faced the Brazilian goalie in a one-on-one duel. Bruno was fouled and couldn’t score; worse, the referee didn’t call a foul and award us a penalty kick.

And so, after 120 grueling minutes, the contest was decided on penalty kicks, a lottery you cannot depend on. We alternated, with each team taking a total of five shots. Four years earlier, in the semifinal against Germany, I had shot second and scored. Out of superstition, I asked to be second again, and I didn’t miss. There were three missed shots — one by France and two by Brazil — but finally, my teammate Luis Fernández took the winning kick. What an incredible moment! We had defeated Brazil. I would never experience such an amazing feeling again.

As told to Alain Drouot

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• Illustration by Sébastien Thibault

• This story originally appeared in the January 2020 issue of The Rotarian magazine.