Mike Woitalla profiles the coach who successfully steered the US to France 98

President Ronald Reagan had returned from a tour of Latin America and revealed, “You know, they’re all individual countries.” Unfortunately, Reagan made that discovery after making a toast to his “Bolivian” hosts – while in Brazil. During his eventful stint as vice president, Dan Quayle visited Central America and gave the crowd what in the USA is an okay sign – index finger to thumb to create an ‘o’. But there, that means arsehole. Bill Clinton, conscious that US rulers often get cold receptions in Latin America, had a plan to ingratiate himself to Brazilians. He juggled a soccer ball with Pelé in a Rio de Janeiro favela, as they call the shantytowns that produce players like Romário.

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“I was having a lunchtime beer in Terry Neil’s bar in Holborn when in walked George Best. He went downstairs where he was waiting to be interviewed by Sky TV. Twenty minutes later, in strolled Rodney Marsh ‘Can anybody move my car for me, I’m parked on a double yellow line?’Several people pretended to be in deep conversation, others were gazing into their beer glasses but nobody offered to help. ‘Can somebody park it for me I’m late for an interview’ said Rod in a pleading voice. This time there was almost complete silence. ‘Please’ said Rod beginning to sound desperate. The tension was unbearable, somebody had to crack. They did – it was me. ‘Give us the keys I’ll park it round the back,’ I said.

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Day 21 of the WSC advent calendar and we’re looking at Christmas football. These days it is something to look forward to but, in issue 131, January 1998, Olly Wicken‘s grandad claimed that this wasn’t always the case

I went to my first Christmas game in 1933, at the age of twelve. I’ll never forget it. It was a cold and bright Christmas Day morning (Christmas Day fixtures were the norm in those days). My Christmas stocking was still hanging unopened over the hearth when my father wrapped me up in my muffler, cap and overcoat and walked me along frosty pavements to the ground. Once inside, I was passed over the heads of the crowd down to the front of the terrace. From there I saw the local derby end in a five-all draw. Our inside-left – I forget his name now – scored all five. Then, on Boxing Day afternoon, my father took me to the return match across town, which we won by the odd goal in thirteen, making the aggregate score twelve-eleven over the two days. It was typical of Christmas fixtures back then. Both games were shit.

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Following on from yesterday’s bad Christmas experiences, day 22 of the WSC advent calendar sees us focus on the positives. The festive season always gets us excited about extra football matches and, in issue 131, January 1998, Piers Pennington remembered a great day out

Football at Christmas is all about escaping from the relatives, nursing bloated stomachs and monumental hangovers and showing off those unfortunate new jumpers; and the same goes for the spectators. What you really need, of course is snow (Tromsø v Chelsea reminded us of what it ought to look like); but unless you’re fortunate enough to support Inverness Caley or Carlisle the sight of an orange ball against a sea of white is rare. 

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Brentford are being destroyed by their own chief executive. Dave Lane profiles the man responsible

At the start of the season the new Brentford chairman, Tony Swaisland, confessed in an interview with Bees fanzine Beesotted that David Webb had forgotten more about football than he will ever know. This football naivety is obviously shared by the rest of the club’s officials, as Webb has proceeded to fool the lot of them by becoming the major shareholder in a club he is now, skilfully, holding to ransom.

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