LGreat stories, great adventures and like football, it starts in a pub. In 2005, journalist Javier Cáceres traveled from Berlin to Santiago to interview Lionel Sánchez at a bar in Munich. Sanchez, the son of a boxer, was one of the world's best and toughest fighters in the 1962 joint-toppers. Once the captain of the team they named the Blue Ballet, what he did that day over a beer, that two decades later and completely by accident, would unite football players from around the world in a unique art collection.
In the Santiago clash between Chile and Italy – described by David Coleman as “the most stupid, horrible, disgusting and humiliating exhibition of football, perhaps in the history of the sport” – Sanchez broke Humberto Mascio's nose. Mario David. But he scored in Chile's quarter-final against the Soviet Union, which radio commentator Julio Martínez called “Divine Justice!” imprinted on the collective conscience with a shout. Of Sanchez's 260 goals, the most is beating Lev Yashin. Yet as he described the moment, Cáceres couldn't picture it. So he gave Sanchez a pen and asked him to draw it.
“I have a notebook, a regular Moleskine, and when I got home I looked at his drawing and thought, 'Wow, how cool,'” says Cáceres. “I remember seeing that film as opening another door, another avenue of engagement. It was an idea born out of luck in a bar, but every time I met a player I thought I would ask them about the greatest, most historic, most defining goal of their career, the story behind it – and ask them. Draw it.
“A few days later I met Samako Valdez. He is younger than Sanchez, but also scored against the Soviet Union in 1973. The Soviet Union refused to go, saying they would not play in a concentration camp – Chile's national stadium was used to hold, torture and execute prisoners after the coup – but the “game” went ahead. There is a referee, no opponents. For Chile to lose, four players passed between themselves and captain Chamaco scored.
“An Italian Book, Stadium DreamsZamago later describes the destination, including the story of his apology to Pablo Neruda [the Chilean poet, diplomat and politician]. I asked him about it and thought the version was more or less true, but it was completely made up and he got angry. For him, the goal was real and important: it was the second leg of the playoff that took Chile to the 1974 World Cup. He draws four crosses, posts, an arrow, no keeper. They are the stories that unfold with the images.
Still unaware, a collection began, a personal journey following Cáceres' career, notebooks filled with drawings, a kind of memory bank built. Cáceres then had two goals: over the next 20 years he collected more than 150, 118 of which have now been published in a book in Germany. such goals Painted. (Approximately: targets as painted.)
“Some felt uncomfortable. I remember Bobby Charlton saying: 'Nobody's ever asked me anything like that before.' And many protested: 'But I cannot draw. It didn't matter, most agreed. Others were impressed by what fellow players did; I was struck by Mario Gotze's interest in reading the notebook, how he wanted to know which targets were selected. I didn't know he was such a football fan.
“Diego Maradona becomes a collection book on the day he died. His goal against England in 1986 was the most important of the 20th century. I tried to reach him several times; I was close at the World Cup in Brazil. I also got a call to replace a colleague in a TV show where he was participating. He arrives late, stops to take photos with the staff, and misses it. The cleaning lady at IBC comes before her professional commitment and that says something about her. But I missed him. I had a lot of targets: Beckenbauer, Müller, Charlton, Pele, but not Maradona. When he died, I thought: It can't be right now; It should be shared.
“I saw Pele in 2006. He was in Berlin and had to go to Cologne that night. I was lucky enough to get a brief slot with him, but was unfortunate to get the last one, and the day's delays piled up and made everyone nervous. The interview was prioritized – I remember him saying that it's true that Ronaldinho is bigger than Pele … 4cm bigger – and when we're coming to the end, I say: 'I'm collecting goals. May I ask which is more for you?' The most important against Wales in 1958, the most beautiful against Sweden in the final, and he says his thousandth was the hardest; It was only a penalty but everyone had been waiting for it for weeks.
“Then he says: 'No. Look…' Pele asks a nervous assistant for a marker and starts drawing because he has to take her to the airport. He's right in front of me so I can't really see what he's doing. I listened to the tape again recently and he takes over two minutes, an eternity in that context, and I'm sweating, thinking: they're going to pull the pen out of his hand and say: 'We've got to go'. He draws grass, poles, net, ball, then writes: 1282. He hands back the notebook and says, 'My goals are all important.'
Pele, defined. His goal(s) sit between Fernando Morientes and Marc de Grais, an expression of equality, a collection presented without order or hierarchy, each goal with the player's interpretation and memory, sometimes imperfect. The result is nostalgia overload, a constant reinvention, but it's more: there's something intimate about each film; On target – life – is what they choose and how they portray it.
“A goal makes us children again,” writes former Argentina international and Real Madrid general manager Jorge Valdano in the foreword; Cáceres advises: “Maybe even draw it. What is a good goal? You are a dreamer and you are a rememberer.”
NThe collection was nominated for the German Football Culture Award and Newspaper die Time He described it as a rebellion against endless analysis where the innocence of children's play was overshadowed by the loudness of others. It puts the players back at its core and gives them a pen. Yet even in its simplicity, each image can draw you in deeply, drawing in the detail, the meaning, the little curiosities and all that they reveal.
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“I don't know the personality that comes out in every picture, but some people can act as a kind of 'psychograph,'” says Cáceres. “In Tunga's case, say, perhaps what you see is a fear. He drew a penalty from the 1994 World Cup. He makes the target very small and the signature huge. He says: 'Do you know why it's so small? Because that's how it was at that moment.
Pep Guardiola's goal looks like Pep Guardiola's tactical board, and it's not just him: there are arrows and crosses and sticks everywhere. “That's the default perspective, maps rather than maps; Maybe as professionals they are used to watching the game: almost all of them draw their goal from above,” says Cáceres.
Only Oscar Ruggeri has broken that trend. Gerd Müller's drawing looks like a piece of abstract art. Lothar Matthäus's neat, organized. Quentin Blake could have made Steve Nicol. Alfredo Di Stefano's image is inexplicable and, frankly, a bit phallic.
George Wey's depiction of his famous end-to-end run against Verona is legendary in its entirety, 14 little men on a side: “He first drew all the opponents, the whole pitch, then the line as he leapt. .” In Xabi Alonso's picture, his penalty in the 2005 Champions League final in Istanbul and the follow-up, Dita's hands is long; It's not a bad draw, given how Alonso looked at the Milan goalkeeper. “If you look at Roberto Carlos, the goal has a small rectangle. He explains that the secret of that The free-kick was one where he used the yellow billboard for the French post office as a reference point. That is the rectangle.”
Some choices are obvious, some less so. “Lilian Durham scored two in the semi-final of France 98, the only goal she scored. [for France]. His [auto]called autobiography 8 July 1998The date of that game. But he chooses a sport he played as a kid that convinces a team that wasn't sure about signing him – because he's black – to finally do so. Without that goal, there are no others. [Gary] Lineker picks one in 86 against Poland; An 'ordinary' goal that would change his life. Paul Breitner scored in the 1974 World Cup final but was not selected.
As for Michel Platini, he didn't draw his best goal; No art, just an autograph. “He signed his name and handed back the notebook. I said: 'No, you have to draw it'. 'I can't.' 'Why not?' 'Because they took it away from me.' I saw it: the goal scored in the final of the Intercontinental Cup is truly amazing and there is no reason to dismiss it. Happiness is denied and not drawn. That, in essence, is the point.
“This book has reconciled me to the world in a way,” says Cáceres. “A goal is a feeling of absolute pure joy, nothing else. I was happy when I first held my daughter in my arms, but it comes with responsibility and puts you in the abyss. A destination is happiness without a star. Vain, but I never felt that players chose to draw their targets for reasons of gratification. It is not easy to define or portray a moment of pure joy, there were all these moments and it was something special.
