In 2021, Italy broke the record for the longest unbeaten run in international football. It has been an incredible period since their failure to qualify for the 2018 World Cup in Russia, not suffering defeat between 10th October 2018, and their Nations League Final defeat to Spain on 6th October 2021, including a record-breaking run of clean sheets, and, as we are all too aware, the winning of a major trophy. A goalless draw against Switzerland seems an anticlimactic way of celebrating the achievement, but it will stand in the record books, for a while at least. What makes the achievement even more spectacular is the scrutiny, the pressure, and the expectation of the whole of Italy that this team carried with them.
But what if the pressure wasn’t from society? What if it came from above? What if your bosses boss, the big cheese that expected nothing but perfection, was a murderous dictator who didn’t tolerate failure? That was what Vittorio Pozzo faced the last time Italy had a streak like this, in the 1930s, under Benito Mussolini.
When Il Duce came to power in 1922, football was growing in popularity but not in quality. Much was borrowed from Austria and Hungary, who had been early innovators in the game, and despite some attempt to improve Italian players, with the introduction of an Italians-only league to run alongside the regular one, it just caused confusion and disorganisation. Mussolini, though, knew the power football could have to unite the nation and propel it on the international stage. “We have made Italy, now we must make Italians”, Prime Minister Massimo d’Azeglio said upon Italy’s unification in the second half of the nineteenth century. Mussolini may as well have added “and then, Italian footballers.”
In 1926, he appointed Lando Ferretti to the head of the FIGC, and he began the process of professionalisation, as well as implementing a limit on foreign players. But the goal was the national team, and success first at the Olympics in 1928, and then at the World Cup, which was being mooted. International success would project the power of Fascism, and was a relatively easy way to unite the people behind the flag. But when they were beaten by Uruguay in the Olympic final, changes had to be made.
Ferretti, fearing for his own head, turned to Pozzo, the tactical innovator who worked for Pirelli and as a journalist in Turin, as well as having been appointed head of the Italian selection commission twice, coaching Torino for a decade, and, during the 1928 Olympics, leading AC Milan. A man of that kind of work ethic was exactly what Fascism expected in its national representatives.
Only a handful of European teams chose to travel to South America for the 1930 World Cup, despite Uruguay’s deal with FIFA to pay the travelling team’s expenses. Perhaps recognising the risk of playing the Olympic Champions, in a home tournament, thousands of miles from home, Italy decided to instead play in the Central European Championship. Pozzo was put to work.
First was a move away from the English style, which focussed on athleticism and power, to something more recognisably continental. Pozzo’s Metodo system would be familiar even today to the likes of Man City or Barcelona, with attacking full-backs, a deep lying playmaker, two Mezzalas – drifting, central midfielders who moved out to the wing – and inside forwards either side of a lone striker. It focussed on short passing and possession based football, unlike the WM or even the innovations in Hungary at the time, which were much more concerned with getting the ball forward and creating as many chances as possible.
It is perhaps unsurprising, then, that Italy dominated the Central European Championship. Despite being created by Austrian Hugo Meisl to showcase the talents of his team, Italy, with an inspired Giuseppe Meazza, finished top of the table in 1930 (the competition had begun in 1927), and went into the second edition of the tournament in 1933 is similarly dominant fashion. They would retain it as the tournament ran through to 1935, but right in the middle was the small matter of the 1934 World Cup, which Italy hosted despite, or because of, some dubious communications with FIFA.
The 1934 competition had no group stages, lurching straight into the Round of 16. Not that it mattered to Pozzo, who watched his side destroy the United States 7-1, with a hat trick from Angelo Schiavio, a late recall after being dropped the previous year. The quarter final was much tougher though, against a Spain side who had seen of Brazil, and were themselves on the verge of a fascist takeover. Real Madrid’s Luis Regueiro opened the scoring on 30 minutes, but Italy equalised before the break. In an era of goals galore, neither side could make the breakthrough in the second half or extra time, and the game went to a replay. FIFA regulations stipulated that it was to be played the next day, and an exhausted Italy slipped through after Meazza scored early against a much changed Spain, who were without seven of the previous day’s side.
The semi-final, played just two days after those two bruising Mediterranean encounters, saw Italy against close rivals Austria, who played a similar passing game under the tactical genius of Hugo Meisl. Torrential rain turned the San Siro pitch into a quagmire, which hampered both teams dramatically, and after a goalkeeping error Enrique Guaita gave the hosts the lead inside 20 minutes. That, it turned out, was just about as long as it took for Meisl to adapt his tactics to the Milanese weather, and Austria then dominated. Chances fell to Josef Bican and Anton Schall, but Matthias Sindelar was the danger man. Sindelar, tragically, would die (probably murdered) after refusing to play for Nazi Germany, but in 1934 he was perhaps the most dangerous forward in the world, the sharp end of what was known as the Austrian Whirlpool, and he found himself through on goal over and over again. This time, though, it was Gianpiero Combi who would be the hero, stopping the Austrian each and every time, and booking Italy a place in the final.
The final against the Czech Republic was set against the backdrop of an Italy side that, by this stage, was running on fumes. Setting the standard for 80 years of Italian football, they relied on their defensive quality to get them over the line, although when Antonin Puc finally broke the deadlock with a looping shot in the 71st minute, Pozzo had to switch things up. Under Il Duce’s watchful eye, Raimundo Orsi found space in the box to level things up. Italy again were forced into extra time, and on 95 minutes Schiavio turned his man in the box to fire, left-footed, into the bottom corner. Tough tackles and few rough challenges followed, and Italy were World Champions.
Celebrations went long into the night, but for Pozzo it was straight back to work. The following year Italy won the Central European Championship again, but this time their goal was to make the first successful defence of the World Cup.
When France were named as hosts of the 1938 edition, Uruguay boycotted their second successive World Cup, and this time Argentina followed suit, leaving the draw theoretically open for Italy to be successful. They saw off Norway in the first round thanks to goals from Pietro Ferraris and Serie A’s still leading goalscorer Silvio Piola. Their quarter final was against the hosts, and Piola got two as France were beaten 3-1.
The semi-final, though, was against Brazil, who had come through an encounter with Czechoslovakia so brutal it was nicknamed the Battle of Bordeaux. Gino Colaussi scored the first before Meazza, by this stage a senior pro, doubled the lead from the spot. Brazil returned to violence, and it rewarded them with a late goal to spark some hope, but Italy held on for the final.
Mussolini, determined to show Italy’s strength with war in the offing, supposedly sent a telegram to Pozzi and his team before the final, with perhaps the most extreme footballing ultimatum ever in just three words: “Win, or die”. There would be no close shaves this time, no amount of exhaustion would get in the way. Colaussi opened the scoring on 6 minutes, volleying in a floated cross, before Pal Tikos levelled it up for Hungary, driving in at the far post. Italy hit the post and forced the goalkeeper into a couple of great saves trying to restore their lead, before Piola found the net after an over-complicated passing move that looked as though it had lost the chance. And all that before a quarter of an hour had passed. Colaussi got his second on 35, placing the ball into the bottom corner from close range, and despite Hungary halving the deficit in the second half, Piola got his second after a lovely cut back to seal the game. Italy had retained the trophy, and more importantly, their lives. War broke out the following year, and Pozzo’s all-conquering Italian side came to an end, but not before extending their unbeaten run to 30 in 1939.
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