this is a coconut shell, and i am it's frog

Saturday, November 18, 2006
Ferenc Puskas, 1927-2006

A moment, if you please, to hear out my ramblings.





The Galloping Major, the Captain of the Magical Magyars, the other half of one of the greatest strike partnership there ever was.

Though we were born way after he retired, those that do know football do know that he was one of the greatest of all times. Grainy as 1950s TV replays are, it took nothing away from his amazing ball control and sheer elegance on the pitch.

"Look at that little fat chap. We'll murder this lot," a British player was once quoted as saying in reference to Puskas before playing Hungary. Little and fat he was, but he was also the one that did the murdering. Hungary whacked England 6-3 in that match, then killed England 7-1 when England visited Hungary. The Puskas-led Hungary of that year was the first foreign team ever to beat England in Wembley.

Pneumonia was what he gave his mortality too, though having already been confined to Budapest hospital for the past 6 years with Alzheimer's Disease and at 79 years old, it probably was a good a time as any to go.

His scoring record, though, will forever be immortalized in the annals of sports statistics. In a truly remarkable career, Puskas scored 83 goals in 84 matches for Hungary, as well as 512 in 528 matches for Real Madrid, all of which culminated to 3 Champion's League titles (European cup in those days) and 5 Primera Liga titles. Scary.

Sadly enough, he never won the World Cup. Having whipped South Korea 9-0, and Brazil 4-2 in the first few rounds of the 1954 edition, Puskas was injured in a match against West Germany. Hungary still progressed to the finals (again against West Germany) but lost 3-2, Puskas scoring one goal but hobbling gingerly around the pitch for most of the 2nd half.



A nation, and a sport, mourn.
posted by theycallmecruel @ 5:24 PM  
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