The photo, whose author was swallowed by anonymity, constitutes one of the most surprising graphic documents that sports journalism has ever created. There is goalkeeper Andrés Mazali on the floor, beaten; the ball in the air, scoring the goal, the pulsating gaze of two Uruguayan defenders and an Argentine attacker… and the referee Ricardo Vallarino hugging the stick, on the same sentencing line, attesting that the ball went in.
According to the criteria of
A historic photo for a famous moment. It is the first Olympic goal in this sport. A very curious action, which occurs sparingly in football and requires phenomenal hitting skill, so much so that neither James Rodríguez nor Messi, two hitting geniuses, never achieved such a conquest despite trying countless times.
Cesáreo Onzari, a notable left wing for Huracán and the Argentine National Team in the ’20s, took a corner, hit it high, closed and with a curve, directly at the goal, and the ball went in without anyone touching it. A century ago Onzari was already known for his virtuoso left-handed shots. He patented a different play.
A strange goal for the time because, until then, it was not known, it was not regulation. The unusual came later.
The public, which was bursting at the defunct Sportivo Barracas stadium in Buenos Aires, did not celebrate, they were surprised, without understanding the outcome of the play. The sky blue footballers did not complain because it would surely not be validated. But referee Vallarino, a Uruguayan, marked the center of the field. “It’s a goal,” he said. The Argentine boys began to raise their arms in celebration and the public followed them, timidly at first, louder later. This Wednesday, October 2, marked 100 years since that confusing, singular, pioneering event.
Why was it called the Olympic goal?
In June of that year, Uruguay had astonished the world by proclaiming itself soccer champion at the Paris Olympic Games, an epic that would have deserved to be told by Homer. The World Cups didn’t exist yet, that was the World Cup. The echoes of his glorious coronation reverberated throughout the universe. And without social networks.
The Uruguayan Association received more than one hundred offers from all over the world to play friendly matches. Between the nine previous friendlies in Spain and the five official ones for the Olympic tournament in France, they played 14 matches and there were 14 wins. The eastern team had gone in a flash from being an unknown team in Europe to the greatest world power. And they came from a small country in distant South America… There was talk that it was a new, colorful and resounding football. It had devastated Yugoslavia, the United States, France, Holland and Switzerland. Everyone wanted to see the Celestes in action.
However, the oriental consul in Paris, Enrique Buero, of transcendental influence in that feat, advised against the presentation of the team.
Such had been the demonstration of quality by Scarone, Nasazzi, Negro Andrade and company, that suspicions were raised in Europe that they could be “professional players”, which was considered sacrilegious.
This would have brought discredit for the Celestes and they would have even withdrawn the title (something that would not have cost the Europeans anything…). For this reason, Buero pointed out that the best thing was to lower the decibels, return to Montevideo and let the waters calm down. That’s how it was. The eastern association decided, then, to accept only one invitation, that of its neighbor from Plata, which wanted to honor the heroes of the “Olympic flurry.” And it was scheduled for Sunday, September 28, 1924.
The stage would be the aforementioned Sportivo Barracas, the best of those times. Thirsty to see such a clash, an impressive crowd came. Until that moment, Argentina’s classic was Uruguay, not Brazil. At the start of the game, there were thousands of people even inside the playing field. If the ball went down the wings, the players tripped over people.
It could not be played and a few minutes after it started, the game was suspended. It was rescheduled for the following Thursday, October 2nd. Uruguay requested that a perimeter fence be established to avoid problems.
In those four days, a fence was erected between the public and the field to prevent invasions.
This is how the famous duel could be played, with almost 37,000 people in the stands. Argentina won 2 to 1 with that unprecedented goal by Onzari.
By virtue of the title won by the visitors, everything became known as “Olympic”. Before the game, the organizers asked the visiting footballers to take a walk around the field so that the public could greet them, the same one they had given in Paris when they were crowned.
It was immortalized as “the Olympic lap”, the fence between the public and the field was called the “Olympic fence”. Everything that had to do with the Uruguayans was called Olympic, such was the commotion caused by their success in Paris. Why the astonishment of the crowd with that goal from Onzari? It happens that the direct goal from a corner kick had never been seen before. And besides, it wasn’t worth it. That’s why people didn’t celebrate. But Judge Vallarino declared a “goal.” What moved you to it? At the end of August of that year, the International Board had decided that, from now on, the goal scored directly from the flag was valid. Fifa had sent a circular informing it by mail and Vallarino received it a few days before the match. He was Uruguayan and the only one in the entire stadium who knew that the conversion was legitimate. And he granted it. This speaks of an honest spirit, of a high sense of honor. A true champion of fair play.
Over the years, two other Argentines achieved a feat in this type of action. In 1973, Daniel Vicente Aricó, from Rosario Central (he played for Atlético Nacional in 1980), scored three almost consecutive Olympic goals, on October 5, 10 and 21, against Belgrano, Atlético Tucumán and Chaco For Ever. And Crazy Aníbal Cibeyra, playing for Emelec, in 1978 scored three Olympic goals against Barcelona in three consecutive classics, between July and November. “I couldn’t walk down the street in Guayaquil because people surrounded me, hugged me,” says Cibeyra. The two, like Onzari, put a tremendous amount of effort into the ball. The goalkeepers fell into the goal with the ball and everything trying to get it out. In the 1979 Libertadores, Cali scored two Olympic goals against Quilmes in an unusual match, and with two different players: one from Ernesto ‘Cococho’ Álvarez and the other from Ángel María Torres.
Onzari, according to oral tradition, was a spectacular pointer; He remained in history, however, for that “Olympic” goal. Some say that the wind helped him, he died many years ago, taking the secret with him: did he shoot the bow or did it happen by chance?
Last tango…
JORGE BARRAZA
For TIME
@JorgeBarrazaOK
More Sports news
#kicked #goal.. #tango #opinion