It’s the summer of 69.
In Rotterdam, Feyenoord are reigning champions, preparing to embark on their fourth crack at the European Cup. Further up in the North, Ajax are licking their wounds after a bruising defeat at the hands of AC Milan in the final just passed. Despite the huge strides made by Dutch teams since the domestic league turned professional, many observers outwith the Netherlands looked upon their club’s efforts ignorantly with the common consensus being that their game was on an equal footing with that of the Scandinavian scene. Events in the coming season would alter that viewpoint evermore.
Feyenoord and Ajax have the most bitter rivalry in Dutch football. As is the case in most sporting feuds, the two clubs, the two cities (Rotterdam and Amsterdam) see themselves as polar opposites in attitude and viewpoint – be it political or otherwise both evidentially and anecdotally.
Amsterdam is the culture capital, home of the artists and the liberals. Rotterdam is the grit and the shovel. Strenuous industrial work, and at this stage, the largest sea port in the world. At this particular juncture however, these rival institutions shared something in common. Both, had they felt inclined to put forth the argument or had the internet been around at this stage (where they could have proclaimed it vociferously such is they way in the 21st century), had a valid claim to say they were in possession of the best football manger in the world.
Ernst Happel and Rinus Michels trying to outwit each other was the late 60’s/early 70’s equivalent of Ferguson v Wenger, Mourinho v Guardiola or Clough v Revie. Their battle to lead their respective football clubs to the pinnacle of European football was the sporting equivalent of The Space Race. Where this particular rivalry differs from the aforementioned examples however is that these two men had a huge amount in common in the way they perceived football and the way they believed the task of winning a match or title should be carried out.
Totaalvoetbal, or as it would become popularised in English; Total Football, is largely credited to the brain of Michels and the boots of Cruyff, but the blueprint of the most fabled football philosophy in history also has the fingerprints of Ernst Happel and Feyenoord all over it.
So just what is Total Football? Well it depends who you ask.
Is it a fluid system where no one player has a single fixed position on the pitch? Is it the striker being the last line of defence and the goalkeeper being the first line of attack? Or is it succinctly just breathtaking, attacking football? Whatever the truth may be, the reality is it’s not too dissimilar to true love – you can’t define it, but you know it when you see it.
On joining Feyenoord, Ernst Happel brought with him the tactical template he had worked tirelessly to curate on the training fields of ADO Den Haag: 4-3-3. At this time, both domestically and abroad, clubs were en masse wedded to the 4-2-4 formation – Ajax included (more on that later). Happel’s contemporary system would transform the way Feyenoord played football. Both it’s functionality and effectiveness would be heavily reliant on three key players – Rinus Israel, Wim Van Hanegem and Coen Moulijn.
Rinus Israel was similar to Happel in his playing days – a defender who lacked height but more than made up for it with vision and ability to read the game. Passing the ball was also one of his his innate qualities, somewhat a rarity for a central defender at the time but a cast iron guarantee of genuine football grandeur. Sjaak Swart, a foe at club level but a friend on the international scene would later describe Israel’s quality in picking out teammates; “He had a great kick in the legs. You got the ball into your feet like a line. Israel could do that with left and right. I thought that was class.” Israel’s on field vision was valued so highly that Happel took him into his confidence for team selection issues and tactical discourse. Israel was a hard man, the kind you don’t see on a football pitch anymore. His nickname was ‘Iron Rinus’ and he formed a formidable and fearsome partnership in the heart of defense with Theo Laseroms who’s moniker was ‘The Tank’.
Out on the left flank was the electrifying Coen Moulijn. Moulijin’s modest, nonchalant demenour was at odds with his footballing ability. When the ball arrived at his feet anything was possible – his team mates believed it and his opponents feared it. Rinus Israel stated that when Moulijn was on the ball “people would get religious experiences”. Along side attacking midfielder Franz Hasil he was the main supply line to Swedish goal machine Ove Kindvall.
The fulcrum of the side, the man who made the system tick was Wim Van Hanegem. If you talk to people in Amsterdam about who the greatest Dutch footballer of all time is they’ll tell you without pausing for thought – Johan Cruyff. In Rotterdam when you pose the same question, unequivocally they’ll put forward the name of Wim Van Hanegem.
To a degree Van Hanegem’s tale mirrors that of his manager Happel – two exceptional, yet distinctly awkward footballing masterminds who’s characters were shaped by events in the second world war. Happel, through his forced conscription to the Wermacht and Van Hanegem who suffered family tragedy at the hands of the Wermacht.
In the Summer of 1944 the tide of the war was turning on the Nazi death machine. On the night of September 11th, the German 15th army was in retreat from France via the Netherlands. On their return route, a hail of bombs were unleashed, killing Van Hanegem’s father and brother amongst many other civilians. The anguish wouldn’t cease there though, further down the line Van Hanegem’s remaining brother and older sister would also perish at the hands of the occupying force.
Van Hanegem’s enmity for all things German would never leave him. He was one of the key players in the glorious Dutch side of 1974 who majestically swept away all before them in the World Cup of that year. With long hair and swagger, they were almost a counter culture never mind a football team. The hearts and minds of the public would be captured before it was all brought to a shuddering halt in the form of a 1-2 defeat at the hands of the hosts (West) Germany – their eternal foes, in the final. The Dutch went ahead only two minutes in, but then seemed hell bent not on finishing the job professionally, but embarrassing their opponents into submission. They wanted death by a thousand cuts as vengeance for the second world war occupation, and none more so than the incandescent Van Hanegem who’s latent loathing for the German’s was always close to bubbling over: “I didn’t give a damn about the score. 1–0 was enough, as long as we could humiliate them. They murdered my family. Each time I faced Germany I was angst-filled.”
Customary protocol on the conclusion of a World Cup Final is for both finalists to participate in a banquet. It’s stands as a depiction of sportsmanship, the metaphor for a handshake and an arm arond the shoulder. Wim Van Hanegem was the only member of the Dutch delegation not to attend the 1974 edition.
In his fatherless, formative years, the post war years, solace would be found for the young Van Hanegem in the form of a football. Aged 16, he could regularly be found, gazing deeply through the fence at the training ground of his local club Velox. Every so often the ball would sail over the fence and every time it did the taciturn, lumbersome, lone watcher would display immaculate, effortless control and then return it with pinpoint accuracy over the fence using the outside of his left foot.
This curious adolescent was no neophyte, he was a natural, and before long he was invited over the fence into the inner sanctum.
Within two years, Van Hanegem had muscled his way into the Velox first team and was making a big impression. The path ahead though wasn’t a smooth one, he regularly fell foul of teammates and coaches alike due to his portly physique and propensity to fly off the handle. Goals were the currency he dealt in though, and from midfield he accumulated a considerable return.
In 1966, Van Hanegem, or as he was now more frequently referred to, De Kromme (The Crooked) moved south-west to Rotterdam to join Xerxes. The moniker De Kromme has debatable interpretations with both sides of the debate equally plausible. Some say the name comes from Van Hanegem’s distinctly unorthodox running style due to his bow legs and others will tell you it derives from his propensity to constantly play passes with the outside of his left foot. The factuality at the root of the origins of the tag is a moot point – goals continued to flow, tackles continued to fly in and and international recognition wasn’t far away.
If Van Hanegem’s teammates at Velox had found him an uncompromising, often challenging character then that honour was now bestowed upon his manager at Xerxes – Kurt Linder. Linder was an authoritarian coach who’s word was law, this brought out the worst in Van Hanegem’s convoluted personalty which was a cocktail of anger and genius. There would be regular training ground bust up’s but the stern, exacting methods used by Linger did help to get Van Hanegem’s weight down which ultimately benefited his game for obvious reasons. On the field was a different story altogether and the trajectory of Van Hanegem’s career was well and truly an upwards one. People in higher places were taking notice. Rinus Michel’s rejected the opportunity to purchase Van Hanegem due to his idiosyncrasies; ‘Too slow and one dimensional. Not suited for modern football’ was the verdict of the Ajax potentate.
Fifteen minutes down the road the opinion differed greatly and Feyenoord brought him to De Kuip in July of 68. At long last the agitated and scarred orphan had found a forever home and a family. Twelve months later an unforeseen, but much needed father figure would emerge in the form of Happel who serendipitously changed Van Hanegem’s life and career for the better.
For the duration of his career to date, his managers had been playing all the right notes but in the wrong order. Happel’s approach, both on a human level and a tactical one, was music to his ears. A zonal circumference around Van Hanegem was decreed his sphere of influence and opponents entered this at their peril. Two outcomes awaited; technically you could be torn to shreds, physically you could be snapped in two. In the rare event of a plucky escape you were then hunted down by Van Hanegem’s more dynamic shadow – Wim Jansen.
Happel anointed Van Hanegem king of his midfield. Everything good about Feyenoord stemmed from him. Happel’s faith and trust in Van Hanegem would be paid off in spades.
Despite being domestic double winners, for the foray into Europe, Happel knew he had to remodel the side. In an early, unforeseen move he changed his goalkeeper. Eddy Pieters Graafland was a club stalwart and captain, this was to be his last season in professional football and he would begrudgingly be reduced to the role of onlooker for the majority of the campaign as he was usurped in the starting XI by callow understudy Eddy Treytel. Unbeknown to both men, there would be a major twist in this tale in the most unexpected of circumstances much further down the line.
After spending only a year at German side Shalke, fellow Austrian Franz Hasil was obtained and would perform predominantly at the tip of the midfield triad. Operating ahead of the tenacious duo of Jansen and Van Hanegem, Hasil was a creative and technical player – the classic number 10.
Left-back Theo Van Duivenbode had played the full match in Ajax’s crushing defeat to AC Milan in the most recent European Cup Final. Consequently, replenishment was top of the agenda in Amsterdam and Van Duivenbode would fall victim to the burgeoning talents of Ruud Krol. Not for the first time, Ajax loss would be Feyenoord’s gain.
The stage was set and the starting gun fired.
Calum Maltman
