Blonde Arrow - More than a forward
When FIFA came to name the 20th century’s best player, they couldn’t decide between Pele and Maradona. Few could. Not even Maradona, who remarked: “I really don’t know if I was better than Pele.” What Maradona did know, though, was that “Di Stefano was better than Pele”. “The mere mention of Don Alfredo,” he insisted, “fills me with pride.”
The legendary Inter Milan and Barcelona coach Helenio Herrera agreed.
“If Pele was the lead violinist,” he once said, “Di Stefano was the entire orchestra.”
And yet Di Stefano – denied the opportunity to exhibit his talent at the World Cup despite playing for three different countries, and having performed his magic in an age before mass television ownership, not to mention a country only just emerging from political and social isolation – has rarely been afforded the status handed to those two universally accepted greats.
His finest and most renowned moment came in the 1960 European Cup Final, when Real Madrid defeated Eintracht Frankfurt 7-3 at Hampden Park – a match the BBC in Scotland continued to show every Christmas for years; the only one that continues to sell, still in black and white, on DVD. A game in which, according to one report, Madrid “played like angels” in front of the highest-ever attendance for a European Cup final: just the 127,000.
It was a performance that the Guardian journalist Richard Williams described as “Fonteyn and Nureyv, Bob Dylan at the Albert Hall, the first night of the Rite of Spring, Olivier at his peak, the Armoury Show and the Sydney Opera House all rolled into one”.
Sir Alex Ferguson, watching from the stands, still remembers it as the finest game he ever saw; one in which, according to another paper the following morning, “Real flaunted all that has made them incomparable.” “To list Real Madrid’s team,” added this scribe, “is to chronicle greatness.” And the greatest of them all, the undisputed leader of the side, was Di Stefano –
“a great amongst greats”, says Platini.
In England, Maradona and Pele are followed by Best or Charlton; in France, by Platini or Zidane; in Holland, by Cruyff; in Brazil, by Garrincha; in Germany by Beckenbauer; across the world, by a combination of them all. In Spain, where he played, it’s not that Di Stefano follows Pele and Maradona, it’s that he matches them. Exceeds them, even. Joaquin Peiro, the Spanish midfielder who played in the great Inter Milan team that won the European Cup in the mid-’60s, speaks for many in Spain when he says, “For me, the No.1 is Di Stefano.”
Those that saw him often, knew. Those that didn’t, missed out. Sadly there are many of them. In 1950 and 1954, his native Argentina did not go to the World Cup, in 1958 his adopted Spain did not qualify and in 1962 a muscle injury prevented him from travelling. His absence is one of the tragedies of the game. “If Di Stefano had played at the World Cup”, says Just Fontaine, “he would be recognised as the white Pele.”
“he was my favourite player,” recalls Cruyff, “and what I most loved about Di Stefano was everything he did he did for the team.” Less fitting was that he should have to hand it over rather than keeping it himself. If anyone made Madrid the world’s most successful club, it is he.
Without Di Stefano, much of modern football does not make sense. Destroying the tactical orthodoxy of the WM formation with his constant movement and awareness, he propelled the game into the modern era.
“Di Stefano turned still photographs into the cinema,” says Arrigo Sacchi. When he did an advert for tights, a photograph of him with his wife’s legs splashed across newspapers, it was a first for a footballer. And how many players could claim to have been kidnapped, as Di Stefano was in 1963 in Venezuela? Even if he did later insist with a smile, “they seemed decent enough kids.”
It started in Argentina where he won two South American Player of the Year Awards. But his greatest triumphs came in Europe, where he turned that history on its head, making Real Madrid the biggest club in the world, laying the foundations for the Behemoth that now stands astride the Paseo de la Castellana.
He won eight league titles in 11 seasons; after just two in the years before Di Stefano, Madrid have won 30 since his arrival – more than half of those on offer. More importantly, Madrid won the first five European Cups, setting up a dynasty that remains unchallenged and defines the club: no football team has ever been as synonymous with a trophy as Madrid with the European Cup.
Madrid had other players, of course: Paco Gento and Ferenc Puskas were amongst the finest of their generation. But Di Stefano was the best; it was he who started it off, who led them. “For children of the 1950s, Di Stefano was above all a victorious sound on the radio, his name echoed round like a heartbeat associated with some success or other, transporting us to the Parques des Princes, San Siro or Hampden Park,” recalled the editor of sports daily
AS, Alfredo Relaño.
Di Stefano was top scorer in the league five times, finishing his career with 216 in 282 games for Madrid. He scored in every one of those five European Cup finals, becoming the competition’s highest ever goalscorer with 49. In total he scored 418 goals for Madrid. And he wasn’t even a striker. Not really, even if he did wear the No.9. Goals alone do not account for two Ballón d’Ors and five Spanish Player of the Year awards.
“He had it all,” said Fontaine. “He was quick, technically gifted, good in the air, a goalscorer, an organiser and a respected leader.” “He brought to Europe a tango made of perfect technique and terrifying acceleration,” added Platini. “He totally controlled the game. You looked at him and asked yourself: ‘how can I possibly stop him?’” recalled Bobby Charlton.
The answer, much of the time, was that you couldn’t – and Di Stefano knew it. Ten minutes into one game, he turned to Fidel Ugarte, a young defender, and said: “Are you going to follow me everywhere, sonny?” Nervously, Ugarte replied: “Yes, my coach told me I have to.” “OK,” shrugged Di Stefano, “you might even learn something.”
Calderon recalls listening to the radio and imagining “some kind of superman”. It’s easy to see why. Di Stefano was everywhere.
L’Equipe dubbed him ‘L’Omnipresente’. “It’s no exaggeration to say that he played like three players put together,” said one biographer. “He was a midfielder who won the ball and started the play, a No.10 who controlled the game and delivered the final pass, and a striker who put the ball in the net. If you put together Redondo, Zidane and [Brazilian] Ronaldo, you might just get close to what he was.”
“The only thing he didn’t do,” says one former team-mate, “was play in goal.” “Actually,” Di Stefano grins, “I did once – for River when then had their first-choice keeper sent off.”
An excerpt of Di Stefano in the game against Freiburg to describe him best:
A defensive nine as well as an attacking third and four-phase playmaker
6 minutes: Alfredo Di Stéfano gets the ball in front of the center line, carries the ball into the middle, but his outside of the boot pass goes astray. Frankfurt has the ball in midfield, Di Stéfano goes to counter press, but is dodged. The Germans play a long-range pass to the wing and counter. It comes to a cross, but Real’s defense clears it over the foul line. Marquitos has the ball – and plays it to Di Stéfano, who offers himself to receive the pass in his own penalty area and passes it with one touch. Canario plays to Marquitos, then back to Di Stéfano. He carries the ball through the midfield now, confident as ever. With the ball at his feet, he thrusts forward and plays a square pass that preceded a longer ball circulation for Real.
Di Stefano could play all of the central positions; center forward, second striker, ten, eight, six, central defender, libero. But he played them all simultaneously. As a center forward, he often fell back between the defender in the 3-2-5 to fetch balls directly from his own penalty area and then march forwards. With the ball at his feet, he used his game intelligence to open the game with long-range passes, dodge around spaces and enemy pressing movements with combinations, or simply dribble past one, two, or even three opponents.
These slalom runs as a defensive midfielder are often equated with his playing style; but that is a reduction of his skills and (even a negative) glorification of his archetype. Very often Di Stéfano is reduced to his goal threat from deep and merely supporting the midfield, but the Argentinian superstar of the 50s was much more than that.
He could fill in as a deep playmaker in a variety of roles and styles, possessing the very rare ability to completely steal the game with his rhythm and dynamism and briefly take over a game.
It's not just Di Stefano’s talent that won him such success and admiration, but his temperament too: his determination and desire to win, even if it meant sacrificing himself.
Especially if it meant sacrificing himself.
The great Italian Gianni Rivera recalls one occasion when Milan put two players on him. So Di Stefano simply ran around the most pointless areas of the pitch, sprinting about the full-back areas, seemingly running blind, tiring them out and leaving space for his team-mates. “He drove us mad,” Rivera sighed.
“He was the brainiest player I ever saw,” said Charlton, “and he oozed effort and courage. He was an inspiring leader and the perfect example to others.”
“I always saw football as a game in which you have to run and sweat,” Di Stefano said. And he could be sharp with his tongue and fiercely irritable with those who didn’t give their all in pursuit of victory. His quick-fire response to another Madrid great Amancio is the stuff of legend – the embodiment of what Madrid like to think they’re all about: talent and commitment wrapped in one.
Before a match, Amancio noted that his Real Madrid shirt was plain white. “Hey, my shirt has no Real Madrid shield on it,” he announced. “You’ve got to sweat for it first, sunshine,” replied Di Stefano.
Di Stefano certainly sweated for his shirt. Not that Eusebio cared: Portugal’s finest ever player still claims that swapping jerseys with the Blond Arrow was “the greatest satisfaction of my life”. Football will forever be grateful to an electrician from River and a mother’s love.
Ramon Calderon likes to tell the anecdote of a father and son strolling through a park and coming across a statue of Di Stefano. “Daddy,” says the boy, “was he a player?” “No,” says his father, “he was a team.” Not just any team either: the greatest team in history.
