El Salvador’s world of woe

The Central American minnows, hugely unprepared as civil war raged at home, suffered the World Cup’s biggest battering in 1982 – but they restored some pride in a reunion clash a quarter of a century later

They called him Pele. And, for just a fleeting moment, El Salvador striker Luis Ramirez Zapata may well have felt like him. Footage of his goal celebration certainly suggests as much.

Zapata’s close-range finish against Hungary proved the Central Americans’ solitary impression on the 1982 World Cup, save one unwanted statistic. The minnows were on the receiving end of the biggest thrashing ever handed out in the final stages of the competition – Hungary 10-1 El Salvador.

So big was the beating, a scoreboard operator had to improvise to display it.

Zapata’s moment in the sun 36 years ago is recalled predominantly by World Cup trivia junkies, but it’s a wonder no film-maker has sealed the rights to tell his and his team-mates’ tale. El Salvador’s story at Spain 82 is one of the greatest tragi-comedies, football’s This Is Spinal Tap.

Qualification for the finals – even one expanded to 24 teams for the first time – was a significant achievement in itself for a nation of 4.7 million. It was their second finals appearance – they lost all three of their matches at Mexico 1970 without scoring – but they’d defied the odds to get there.

Their journey to Spain was negotiated against the backdrop of a civil war that began with 1979’s military coup and lasted for 12 bloody years, as left-wing guerrillas battled the Us-backed junta for supremacy. It was a period of death squads, child soldiers and countless other human rights violations.

Football offered the nation collective respite. “It was our greatest gift,” said midfielder Mauricio Alfaro. “The country was in deep suffering, and we had the pressure of trying to reduce it.”

Yet even something as fundamental as getting to training sessions on time during qualification was complicated. “Sometimes,” Alfaro recalled, “driving to the capital, you’d find dead bodies lying beside the road, so it was difficult to keep focused.”

Los Cuscatlecos came through Central American qualifying following a six-team

league that was contested over a month in November 1981. El Salvador defeated CONCACAF powerhouse Mexico 1-0 and also drew with hosts Honduras, behind whom they finished second to confirm their World Cup place.

However, the problems were only just beginning. As the other nations pitched up in Spain to acclimatise, El Salvador’s players – drawn in a tough Group 3 with holders Argentina and Euro 80 finalists Belgium – were the last squad to arrive.

Following a warm-up friendly against Gremio of Brazil and a 72-hour odyssey that took in Guatemala, Costa Rica, the Dominican Republic and Madrid, they eventually reached their training base – a hunting lodge in Alicante – three days before their opening fixture and feeling severely jetlagged. And in a moment of pure farce, they were greeted in Alicante with Mexican flags.

Already possessing the youngest side at the tournament – all but one of their players were amateurs – they also had two fewer than every other nation. The squad of 22 included two non-playing friends of Salvadorean FA bigwigs, who promptly disappeared for a holiday and didn’t watch a game.

The supply of such absurdities proved inexhaustible – there was not enough training gear for the entire party, while 25 Adidas Tango matchballs supposedly ordered in advance for practice-session purposes never turned up.

As the team prepared to face Hungary – their opponents having the decency to lend them some footballs to train with – El Salvador’s only previous sight of their foes in action had been on a videotape bought from an agent the day before. Which the players had to pay for.

They hadn’t even brought a pennant to exchange before kick-off, although 20-year-old goalkeeper Luis Guevara Mora displayed admirable ingenuity on that score. “When we arrived, we saw all of the other teams had brought gifts for their opponents – shirts, flags, even a book relating the history of football in their country,” he recalled. “We hadn’t brought anything. Then I spotted a pine tree and cut a piece from it, into which I carved the words ‘El Salvador’. That is what we gave them.”

Bizarrely, a poll back home suggested that 60 per cent of fans expected them to overcome Hungary in Elche – perhaps more in hope than expectation.

As kick-off arrived, it was clear that the ‘up-and-at-em’ approach extended to coach Mauricio Rodriguez’s game plan, too. Likening the Hungarian outfit to the Paris Saint-germain XI they had beaten in a friendly two weeks earlier, he chose all-out attack as the best option.

It could not have backfired any more spectacularly. The underdogs fell a goal behind inside four minutes, unmarked captain Tibor Nyilasi burying his header from a corner. Hungary added a second on 11 minutes through Gabor Poloskei’s swerving shot. After 23 minutes, Laszlo Fazekas made it 3-0.

Rodriguez’s response three minutes later? To bring on a forward, obviously.

It remained 3-0 until the interval, but five minutes after the break a defensive mix-up handed Jozsef Toth Hungary’s fourth goal. Fazekas returned for their fifth on 54 minutes.

Then, with 26 minutes left, Zapata – the aforementioned substitute – made his mark, controlling Norberto Huezo’s mishit shot to score from six yards. Lost in the moment, scorer of El Salvador’s first ever goal at the World Cup, he was off, celebrating for all his worth. It did not go down well with his team-mates.

“Two of them rushed over and told me to shut up, as the last thing we wanted to do was make the Hungarian players angrier,” explained Zapata. “But it was too late and I was too euphoric.”

Against a team fielding four forwards, Hungary ran riot. Between the 69th and 83rd minutes they scored another five: three for substitute striker Laszlo Kiss, who earned a World Cup finals double – the fastest hat-trick (eight minutes) and the first by a sub – one for Lazar Szentes and a second for Nyilasi.

Kiss couldn’t believe what he’d seen. “The poor sods probably thought they could beat us and attacked us gung-ho,” he conceded. “What a terrible mistake.”

Understandably the team was in no mood to swap shirts, though a rejigged approach and sidelining of the coach by senior players helped to avoid further batterings against Belgium (0-1) and the Argentines (0-2). However, the squad returned home to jeers and boos, their reputations in bits. Rodriguez – veteran of Los Cuscatlecos’ 1970 campaign and a managerial rookie at 36 – didn’t work again. They bore the shame like a scar; what should have been a proud quest had turned into an unmitigated disaster: 10-1 the punchline to a bad joke.

There was an unexpected silver lining in 2007, when the same players were invited to take part in a rematch in San Salvador. Hungary raced into a 2-0 lead, with one terrace wag yelling: “They only need eight more…”

But those reaching for an abacus were mistaken on this occasion. Trailing 2-1 in injury time, Zapata – fittingly – was on target again to equalise. El Salvador’s Pele and his team-mates had finally got their beautiful game, 25 years on.

For Alfaro – who hadn’t even been on the pitch back in 1982 but felt guilt by association – it was closure; a merciful release. “After 25 years of suffering, I’m finally sinless,” he said.

Forward Jorge Gonzalez, better known as El Magico – easily his side’s ‘standout’ performer in the original encounter, and their only professional – concurred. “It was wonderful to finally be able to make it up to our supporters,” said the former Cadiz creator. “The draw meant a great deal to us, psychologically speaking. For us, that result felt like a victory.”

El Salvador have yet to return to the finals, but only the hardest heart would wish against the minnows qualifying for a third tournament. It could hardly get much worse, right?

“THE POOR SODS PROBABLY THOUGHT THEY COULD BEAT US AND ATTACKED US GUNG-HO – WHAT A TERRIBLE MISTAKE”