England-Argentina Is A Rivalry Rooted In Ghosts, Thorns And Legends

Rivalries in football often exist for singular reasons. It’s not that they’re simplistic, but rather, we understand why they are there. Like Liverpool’s rivalry with Everton or the Superclásico between Boca Juniors and River Plate, local derbies are disputed and contested based on a turf war that has placed them close together but in reality, ever so apart. They are neighbors who detest each other and nothing will ever change that. 

It’s different on the international stage, where impactful cultural and political moments in history create rivalries so fierce that it lives carries through generations. Take the Clásico del Pacífico between Chile and Peru, which stemmed from a war in the 1800s, as an example. As my father taught me at a very early age, Peruvians  say the word “Chalaca” instead of “Chilena” to describe a bicycle kick, as Perú refuses to believe that a Spanish-born Chilean invented the acrobatic move, and credit it to Afro-Peruvians from a time that was never recorded. 

But I digress. My point is that rivalries in the beautiful game usually have a connecting tissue that lives on in the mindset of every supporter, where history and geography paint a picture of a fierce battle on the pitch. 

Nonetheless, there is one rivalry that is so deep it stands above others. It’s both delicate and purposeful, as it derives from war, social and cultural animosity from two continents and ways of life, but at the same time — but that also has given us some of the most memorable, dramatic moments in World Cup football. 

It is a rivalry made of thorns, rooted in years of rancor where stars also look to rise out of ferocious moments of action.

This is Argentina and England. A match like no other. 

After Argentinas victory over Switzerland and Englands win over Norway, both will meet on Wednesday in Atlanta for what should be a majestic semifinal where the past meets present. The fact that, amazingly, this will also be Lionel Messis first ever encounter against the Three Lions is probably a secondary headline. 

This, after all, is a match of ghosts, originated in 1962 but one that grew in animosity as the years went by and four years later, in 1966, thats when the fire was founded.

It was the last and only time England won the World Cup. The hosts came out victorious against Argentina in the quarterfinal, but it was a match of complete physicality where Argentinas captain Antonio Rattín (sadly passed away this month at the age of 89) was sent off in the first half for two offenses in the space of three minutes. This match was so fierce that England manager Alf Ramsey decided to call the opponents “animals” and did not want his players to swap shirts at the end of the match.

 It was also a fixture that essentially introduced the yellow and red cards, knowing too well something had to be done to tone down the heat.

Good luck with that. 

At the 1986 World Cup in México came the arrival of the legendary Diego Maradona, but most notably, this was now a quarterfinal between both sides that followed the Falklands War — something so deeply impactful to both sides, but for Argentina — this was the fall of a military government, which prompted a new democracy in 1983. A relationship made out of war, something more impactful and catastrophic than anything we could ever imagine now played the role of protagonist. 

As a result, the match in 1986 brought with it the eternal memory of the Hand of God, where in the 51st minute, still scoreless, the 5-foot-5 Maradona beat out Englands stopper Peter Shilton and used his hand to punch the ball out of Shiltons reach and into the net. Despite aggressive complaints from England, the goal stood, which proceeded for