England vs Hungary at Wembley Stadium - 1951

Tom was in his final year of university when the Hungarian soccer team played the English team.

As in all European countries, soccer was the most popular sport. It was the first thing a boy played once he learned to walk. No outing was imaginable without taking along a soccer ball or at least a tennis ball to kick around. My father and I even practiced at home when my mother was not home, watching carefully to not leave any trace of damage betraying our misbehavior.

In high school, we could hardly wait for the bell to ring at ten minutes before the hour. Within seconds we invaded the courtyard to kick the tennis ball around. Only rain or extreme cold kept us inside the school building.

For decades the Hungarian national team was highly ranked, winning the Europe Cup and beating many top national teams from around the world. It was the primary national passion, drawing crowds of one hundred thousand to watch important games. Millions listened to games broadcast on the radio. On Sundays, hundreds gathered around newsstands waiting for the arrival of the sports paper with all the reports, fresh off the press.

I knew the starting lineup and the current status of each of the teams by heart – I had displayed them under my father’s glass desktop. My friends and I attended many of the games. I cheered so loudly that by the end of the game I had nearly lost my voice.

Once the Communists took over, in an attempt to isolate us from the Western world, we became deprived of much of the international spirit and interest in the sport. We had no access to the information on how other national teams were playing.

After Stalin’s death, the grip loosened, and we once again became better informed. Eventually, Hungary started playing Western teams again. Enormous excitement rippled through Hungary when our national team wasinvited to play the English team at Wembley Stadium in London.

We had little hope of beating England on their home turf. If we did, we would be the first team to do so in the game’s ninety-year history. We counted the months, weeks, days, and finally the hours before the formidable event. Employees were allowed to leave early to be able to listen to the radio in homes, public places equipped with loudspeakers, in restaurants, and on the streets.

The match started at 4 p.m. I invited a few of my colleagues to our apartment, serving tea, coffee, and cookies. Just before the game began, I looked out the window to see no one on the streets. Fifteen minutes into the game the streetcars and buses stopped. I saw a conductor abandon his bus and join a group of people listening in front of an electrical equipment store.

We shouted like crazy when our sportscaster announced the first Hungarian goal. Then came an English goal foreshadowing a potentially grim future. After halftime, the tempo of the game reached a frantic level as the score kept changing and the Hungarian team pulled ahead. We defeated England 6 to 3! We had accomplished the seemingly impossible.

I went to the window and saw people streaming out of the apartment buildings like bees from a beehive, hugging each other in near delirium. It was at least fifteen minutes before the crowds moved onto the sidewalks and allowed the buses and streetcars to resume their schedules. Most people stayed around waiting for the sports paper to arrive. We had to see it in print. We had to see the photos of the scores. We had to see the English crowds and get the comments of the international press.

It was refreshing to read that the English were taking this sports event so emotionally! “The loss of the colonies was a matter of unavoidable historical necessity, but tonight is the crumbling of our reign in football, a truly national tragedy.”