Four Minutes to Glory
A miraculous feat by the Colombian national soccer team
I will never forget the day Colombia played against West Germany in the last game of the first round of Italia 90 and the goal Pierre Michel Littbarski scored to send a nation’s dreams crashing to the ground with the force of a freight train. At least, it seemed that way for the longest 4 minutes of my life as my family and friends watched a classic match of David vs. Goliath unfold that would become etched in the annals of Colombian soccer history.
My family’s home in Fairfax, Virginia became the meeting point for many of our friends who chose to extend their lunch break or call in sick to watch the match against West Germany. My Father, who taught me the passion for the game, had bought a 46” projector television specifically to watch Colombia play their first World Cup in 28 years. That day, many of my friends chose places on the couch, like a team that strategizes a formation before a match. We all sat on the edge of our seats and waited for the game to begin. As both sides stepped onto the pitch, I dreamed of a victory, while my subconscious rejected any such thought and hoped for a tie at best. After all, West Germany thrashed the United Arab Emirates (5-1) and Yugoslavia (4-1) in their previous games. The suspense was unbearable. Suddenly, the referee’s whistle broke the tension and we fixed our eyes on the screen as if we could dictate the player’s movements with telepathic powers.
“Deutschland, Deutschland,” streamed out of the television’s speakers. On the screen we saw that the stands of the mythical Giuseppe Meazza were painted white and only a small fraction sported the yellow, blue and red. With a tie, Colombia would progress into the Round of 16. This would be the farthest the team would ever have gone during World Cup play.
As the game progressed the West Germans became increasingly dangerous hitting the cross bar and making Rene “El Loco” Higuita stretch to make feline-like saves. Surprisingly though, Colombia was able to thwart many attacks and benefitted from a dose of good fortune on many West German advances. Colombia was equally as menacing and challenged the speed, strength, and tactical discipline of the West German side with quick short passes and displays of technical flair, and created moments that made us rise from our seats. We chorused the “Ole, ole, ole” as the Colombians strung passes together. We cheered, we hoped, and we suffered. Colombia, it seemed, was going to the second round.
However, it was not until injury time that the game was decided. We watched in disbelief and yelled as Rudi Vöeller dodged each tackle from the Colombian defenders. Littbarski, who had come on as a substitute, received the ball into his stride and slammed it into the upper left corner with heart-piercing precision. Higuita was left on his knees.
At that moment, none of us spoke. The shock did not allow us to recognize that Colombia would not go on to the next round. We sat in silence as we watched Littbarski and the West Germans embrace victory. I realized that I was naïve to have thought that the game could have resulted in a tie. All of us sat in disbelief and I sat motionless as I held my head between my hands. Suddenly, my Father said, “There is still time.” How could he have possibly believed we could tie if there were only 2 minutes left in regulation time?
The game resumed and the West Germans pinballed their passes across the field. They were confident as ever. Colombia struggled to gather themselves. Despite this, my Father repeated, “There is still time, there is still time,” yet it was impossible for any of us to believe. The Colombian bench was on their feet and the coaching staff yelled in encouragement to slap the team back into consciousness.
Leonel Alvarez intercepted a pass from Vöeller, and Colombia began to toggle up the field in minute 92. Carlos “El Pibe” Valderrama received the ball and managed to turn amongst three German defenders. He delivered Freddy Rincon, who continued his run unmarked and into a blind spot of the German defense, an astonishing pass that placed him in a one-on-one challenge with goalkeeper Bodo Illgner.
Rincon’s apparition was surreal and lifted our hearts out of despair and into the heavens. We held our breath as Rincon took a touch and sized up a quickly approaching Illgner. While in stride, he sent a well-placed shot between the keeper’s legs and into the back of the net.
Our living room erupted in thunderous elation. We jumped, hugged, and shed tears of joy. Any hint of defeat had vanished and was replaced with a feeling of exquisite magnificence. I remember hugging my Father and thinking how he believed when no one else did. “We did it. We did it.” said my Father calmly.
As Colombia prepares for Brazil 2014, the memories of victory and defeat of the Colombian national soccer team, including that of the epic tie against West Germany invade my mind. However, I ask myself, if things go awry how could one not believe after having seen them perform a miracle?
