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Check this article out on what is said by many to be the best European Cup/CL final ever:

The day Di Stefano glowed in Glasgow
Real Madrid return to Hampden Park tomorrow 42 years after they won the European Cup with breathtaking virtuosity
By Ken Jones
14 May 2002
No wonder Scottish football fans turned out in force for the 1960 European Cup final between Real Madrid and Eintracht Frankfurt, tingling with anticipation as they made their way to Hampden Park on 18 May. This promised to be a game for the connoisseur, one perhaps to surpass any that had gone before.

In reaching their fifth consecutive final Real Madrid had maintained a monopoly that had existed since the European Cup's inception. The names were legendary; Alfredo di Stefano, considered by Matt Busby to be the greatest all-round talent the game had ever seen; Ferenc Puskas who had twice ripped the heart out of English football; the speed merchant, Francisco Gento; Canario of Brazil, Luis del Sol of Spain. The Scots knew about them, had read about them, caught glimpses of them on television, but here was a chance to see them in the flesh, flaunting all that had made them incomparable.

The vast audience of 127,621, paying a total £55,000 for admission, at the time a record for any football match in Great Britain, would not be disappointed. They grudged not a shilling of that total as the West German champions, who had toyed with Rangers in the semi-final, winning 12-4 on aggregate, were swept aside by football of breathtaking virtuosity. The pessimistic pronouncement of Eintracht's team manager Ernst Berger that his players were coming up against the finest team in the world found no argument on the packed Hampden terraces; recent history had proved it and what was seen on that memorable day confirmed it.

In both legs of their semi-final Real Madrid had outclassed Barcelona :star: who had themselves previously humiliated one of England's most powerful clubs Wolverhampton Wanderers, the 1960 FA Cup winners. They were a coach's dream with a collection of treasures from all over the football world. Didi, the mastermind of Brazil's success at the 1958 World Cup in Sweden, where they became the first nation to capture the Jules Rimet trophy on a continent other than their own, could not even find a place in the squad.

As someone would write, Real's only problem was to select the best from the best. It was resolved by the inclusion of Canario, another Brazilian who had been a reserve for most of the season, and Del Sol a favourite of di Stefano because of his intelligent industry in midfield. But as usual, in front of a sound defence organised by the formidable centre-half, Santamaria, there were the Real treasures.

Although 34, Di Stefano had lost none of his energy, one minute orchestrating attacks in midfield the next arrowing at the defence, his movement constant. Puskas, the "Galloping Major" who had fled from the Hungarian uprising, remained the game's most thrilling finisher his swift improvisations astonishing in one so portly. Gento's blistering pace was matched only by the Welsh speed merchant Cliff Jones of Tottenham Hotspur who would make his mark in the European Cup two years later.

All was set for a classic performance. Yet, to begin with the play was untidy as both sets of players sought to settle down on an uneven surface. And it was the Germans who made the first breaks, almost going ahead when a swinging shot from their outside-left Meier slapped against Real's crossbar. Exploiting uncertainty on the left side of Real's defence Eintracht threatened to spoil the party. It took two desperate interventions to keep them out before they went ahead in the 19th minute, Kress pulling away from Santamaria to sweep the ball in from six yards.

Silence settled on Hampden. Some sympathy had been held out for the underdogs but a dour German victory was not in the script. Then it happened. An equaliser of startling simplicity and precision. Canario danced into space and found Di Stefano with a pass that was driven low into Eintracht's net. Three minutes later, Di Stefano struck again, whipping the ball in before anyone else had reacted to a rebound off the body of Eintracht goalkeeper Loy.

It was all Real, their football at such a level that torrents of applause poured down from the terraces. Di Stefano was everywhere, arrogant, a strutting maestro of the game, roving the field, demanding the ball and the subservience even of Puskas.

It was time for Puskas to declare himself. A minute before half-time he took a pass from Del Sol, found space near the by-line and then from a ridiculously narrow angle, struck a shot into the roof of Eintracht's net before raising both arms in a trademark salute. In the 56th minute Puskas scored again, this time from the penalty spot after another of Gento's surges from the left had been illegally interrupted. Soon, Real scored a fifth, Puskas heading in a centre from the rampant Gento to complete his hat-trick.

Enthralled by the riches before them, the crowd had further cause for admiration when Puskas brought Real's tally to six with a stunning goal in the 71st minute. For an instant it seemed that Puskas had overrun a pass but he reached back to cushion the ball, pivoted and smashed it high into the net from 16 yards.

Before the end Eintracht pulled two goals back but in between came one that lives on in the memory of all who saw it. As though it was time to put an indelible stamp on the match, Di Stefano called for the ball deep in his own half and set off on a bewildering run, stringing together at astonishing speed a cluster of passes, sending defenders sprawling before finding the mark with a lordly shot.

For half an hour after what Di Stefano described as "one of our best performances ever", it seemed as though nobody had left Hampden, the crowd staying to applaud a magnificent performance, sensing they would never see its like again.

Next day, the aircraft taking Real Madrid home was delayed for four hours. As someone said, it was almost as though Scotland did not want to allow them to go.
 

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You guys do the math ... I was 10 years old and already dreaminn about the 1962 WC which would come to my country 2 years later...
All I would hear in my house were the Real Madrid and Saeta Rubia's heroics of the glorious day in Glasgow.

:cool:

Lets REPLAY history today..By All Means ;)
 

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the combination of Di stefano and Puskas was probably the best duo of all time in club copetition.
but after watching the semi final game against Barca and the final vs. Leverkusen the duo of Zidane and Raul is not that far behind.

just a stupid note I want to share with u.

>I watched the game in a room hotel and after the final whisttle I jumped so high i broke the bed. :tongue:
one more thing the hotel check out time was 2pm I have to talked to the owner a nice Chineese old lady and ask her to plz let me stay till 4p.m. and she said sure man. the way you asked me that it sure seems something really big is gonna happend to u, after I heard this words, I felt we were gonna win.
 

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I should've posted this earlier, but sitll worth reading. A bit long, but a match report from THAT game in 1960, written at the time. Really gives you the feeling of how it all was... very enjoyable stuff, and very informative. Take care:cool:





Reprinted today in The Scotsman. Kilmarnock lad Hugh McIlvanney went
on to greater things. And I well remember watching the game on TV :)




Real Madrid keep 100 per cent cup-winning record

How The Scotsman reported on the ‘greatest club side in history of
football’

HUGH McILVANNEY at Hampden Park


Real Madrid 7
Eintracht Frankfurt 3

ALMOST 130,000 Scottish football enthusiasts were privileged last
night to see Real Madrid display the unmatchable talents that have
made them the greatest club side in the history of world football.

The fact they were engaged in winning the European Cup for the fifth
successive year seemed equally inevitable and incidental, in the midst
of some of the most magnificent sporting artistry Hampden Park has
ever seen.

Fittingly, the great Glasgow stadium responded with the loudest and
most sustained ovation it has given to non-Scottish athletes. The
strange emotionalism that overcame the huge crowd as the triumphant
Madrid team circled the field at the end, carrying the trophy they
have monopolised since its inception, showed that they had not simply
been entertained.

They had been moved by the experience of seeing a sport played to its
ultimate standards. Similarly, their tributes to Eintracht, a team
whose quality deserved better than the role of heroic losers,
contained a reverence for something Scotland cannot equal.

Scots in the ground could not conceal an awestruck appreciation of the
glories that had been paraded before them. It is one thing to see the
wonders of Puskas, Di Stefano, Gento, Vidal and the rest on a
television screen. It is another to see them in the flesh, to hear
their urgent shouts as they wreak precise devastation on an opposing
defence. Last night they flaunted all that has made them incomparable.


The unflagging generalship of Di Stefano, the technical perfection and
breathtaking ingenuity in Puskas, the industry of Del Sol; the deadly
pace of Gento, the striking directness of Canario, and behind all that
the drive of Vidal and the dominating strength of Santamaria and his
defence - to list the Real team is to chronicle greatness.

Eintracht will realise that they are saluted, when it is said that
they never ceased to be worthy opponents for the masters - creditable
challengers to the undisputed champions. Some of their players, such
men as Kress, Stein, Weilbaecher and Loy, rose close to the peerless
level of Madrid, and the others, if less gifted, were equally gallant.


The Germans, no less than their conquerors, had contributed to the
healthily frenetic excitement that caused thousands of Scots to linger
around Hampden long after the cheers and embraces of the presentation
ceremony.

The tense expectancy of the audience emphasised the untidy, uninspired
nature of play in the early minutes. But the quality of the players
steadily overcame the unfamiliar peculiarities of the ground, and the
Scottish spectators settled to enjoy their national game as only
foreigners can play it.

Their sympathies were clearly with the German underdogs, who were
already showing more bite than many had anticipated. Only one minute
had gone when a swinging shot from Meler forced Dominguez to slap the
ball against his crossbar. Then Kress and Pfaff both revealed a
capacity for making progress along Real’s left flank.

Del Sol restored confidence in Madrid with a hypnotic exhibition of
footwork which had Loy sprawling desperately at his feet, but Kress
and Pfaff again stirred hopes of a miracle when they surged clear on
their right wing to whip a low cross in front of Dominguez.

Twice only anxious interceptions prevented a goal before the Germans
eventually claimed full reward for those right wing assaults in the
20th minute. Stein accelerated along the bye-line and cut the ball
sharply back for Kress to leap inside Santamaria and sweep it to the
net from half a dozen yards.

Madrid’s urgency increased visibly after that goal, and their
scientific onslaught forced the Eintracht defence to yield an
equalising goal in the 26th minute. The goal was characteristic of the
journeyman efficiency of the great Spanish side. Canario beat Hoefer
simply on the right, and his low cross eluded everyone but Di Stefano,
who was perfectly positioned to direct the ball past Loy.

Three minutes later the centre forward’s faultless positioning and
alertness were again illustrated when a swerving shot from Canario
spun away from the diving body of the German goalkeeper. Di Stefano
covered four or five yards before any other player moved an inch, and
hooked the ball over the prostrate figure of Loy to the net.

Real’s superiority was now unmistakable, and the German goal had a
freakish escape when a 25-yard shot from Vidal cannoned off a
defender’s back, and slapped against a post before being cleared.

There was no such luck to rescue Loy one minute from the interval when
he fell victim to the type of goal that has become almost the hallmark
of the Puskas genius. The Hungarian inside-left, taking a pass from
the fluent feet of Del Sol, jockeyed for position on the bye-line and
from a truly incredible angle, drove the ball surely into the net
directly above the Eintracht goalkeeper’s hand.

Lutz, who was apparently taking little comfort from the knowledge that
he was opposed to the fastest forward in the world, allowed his
frustration to express itself illegally from time to time, and one
such lapse brought the maximum punishment in the 54th minute. The full
back pushed Gento in a race for the ball, and Mr Jack Mowat, after a
discussion with a linesman, awarded a penalty.

Puskas was called upon to take the kick, and coped with the expected
competence. Six minutes later he gave more striking evidence of his
craftsmanship by scoring his side’s fifth and his own third goal.

Gento’s speed was again the preliminary factor, for the winger
outstripped Lutz to cross accurately to his inside left. Puskas merely
seemed to bow acknowledgement of his colleague’s excellence as he
headed the ball inside Loy’s right-hand post.

The Puskas mastery once more left the huge crowd stunned in the 70th
minute, when he reached back for a straying pass from Vidal, halted
the ball and pivoted swiftly to chip a splendid left-foot shot high
into the net from 16 yards.

Within two minutes Stein shot a fine second goal for the Germans, but
the achievement merely stressed that Real were outclassing a
good-class team.

As if to underline the point further, Di Stefano ran through almost
immediately, sent several defenders moving in an unprofitable
direction, while he steered the ball along the most rewarding route of
all - to the net.

A quarter of an hour from the end Vidal made one of his very few
errors in misplacing a pass to his goalkeeper, and Stein jumped in to
take a third goal for Eintracht.

Real Madrid: Dominguez; Marquitos and Pachin; Vidal, Santamaria and
Zarraga; Canario, Del Sol, Di Stefano, Puskas and Gento.

Eintracht Frankfurt: Loy; Lutz and Hoefer; Weilbaecher, Eigenbrodt and
Stinka; Kress, Lindner, Stein, Pfaff and Meler.

Referee: J A Mowat (Rutherglen).

Former Scotsman football correspondent Hugh McIlvanney later described
the 1960 final as "a watershed for me, as it was for so many. Here was
the game as we had always known it could and should be played." He
added: "If the ending seems abrupt and unrounded, that is because the
edition was going to press." The original headline has been
reproduced.
 

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Thank you for posting that, labas. Very interesting! :)

I am just watching the match. It could have just as easily been 9-3 or 10-3. di Stefano just hit a lob off the upright.
 

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Labas....I see it & I dont believe!!!!!!!!!!!! ... :smileani: Thanxs for the GREAT article ...

:cool::cap::cool:
 
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