‘Holland were jeering – they were trying to make fun of us’

a sort of turbo impact on us. When we arrived in the changing room and went out to view the pitch and then went back in, the Dutch started, in the changing room opposite ours, to celebrate, to chant, to jeer like a bunch of guys at the Oktoberfest. We were sitting in the changing room looking at each other thinking: What are they doing? Are they taking the p---?

We went out, the referee blew the whistle and, without any of us having seen what was going on, we were behind 1-0. But the Dutch were not able to deal with the lead. Just as we had suspected in the changing room, they were celebrating in advance. They wanted to make fun of us. They made us run, they outplayed us, but they absolutely were not keen on scoring a second goal.

After about 25 minutes we got a penalty. We had not determined a penalty taker, and I was the last one they would have chosen, but I knew that no one wanted the responsibility. So I said to myself: “OK, boy, you want to be World Cup champion? Taking this penalty is part of it. You put it away and that’s that.”

I went to the spot and placed the ball, I went back to the 18-yard line and then Wolfgang Overath came up to me. He said: “Paul, what’s going on? Do you want to take the penalty?” I said: “What do you think I am doing here, Wolfgang? I am going to put it away. Now, go away!” And then it was in the net.

The final was on a Sunday. On Monday at about 8.30am, I came home from the celebrations with my wife, and I switched on the TV to watch this beautiful final again. I saw Bernd Holzenbein falling and I saw referee Taylor pointing to the spot and then I saw the No3 – me – walking towards the penalty spot. I jumped to my feet. I felt sick and started sweating, dripping with sweat. I went to the TV and switched it off. I was thinking: “Are you crazy? What are you doing!? What happens if you can’t score?” I said to my wife: “I have to go out – I can’t bear it. I am going for a walk.” I went for a walk for half an hour and started to think: “What did you do? Why did you do that?” slide to reach it and I managed to strike it well.

I believe when someone scores a goal in a World Cup final there is never an exaggerated way to celebrate. I think in that moment I went beyond madness.

One thing I did feel though – among all those people, my team-mates, in that moment I isolated myself. I felt alone and it was lovely. I couldn’t hear a thing – there was no one around me any more. It was like being in a silent film. They tried to stop me but they could not catch me. It was a strange but very beautiful thing.

I was very tired when I came back to the centre circle. I had trouble breathing, too. I made the sign of the cross because I think I said things that were not nice to say, so I crossed myself. It is the last goal I ever scored for Italy.

What has remained inside me is this solitude. It was absolute ecstasy, happiness lived out alone. It is true – man is born alone and dies alone.

‘Goal!’ by Michael Donald is published by Octopus Publishing Group (rrp £20). To order your copy for £16.99 plus p&p call 0844 871 1514 or visit books.telegraph.co.uk.