21 June 2002, Shizuoka Stadium. Brazil 2–1 England.
By Hamish McTavish
A Friday in Shizuoka, a World Cup quarter-final, and a golden generation that had already beaten Argentina in the group and so had started to believe the rest was a procession. Sven-Göran Eriksson had Michael Owen, who was not fit and started anyway, and David Beckham, who had come back from the broken metatarsal as if the advert from four years earlier might yet be rewritten. David Seaman, thirty-eight, Safe Hands, the man who had been a mountain for a decade. Brazil had Rivaldo, Ronaldo, and a twenty-two-year-old with a pony-tail the English week had heard about and had not yet seen. Ronaldinho. Luiz Felipe Scolari’s side had won every game in regulation. England had the travelling support and a chorus already going: we’re not going home. Henry Winter wrote the world belonged to them at that point. It did. For twenty-three minutes.
The week had been about the semi-final. It is always about the semi-final when they have just done something that looks like a corner turned. Beckham had the captaincy and the set-pieces. Rio Ferdinand and Sol Campbell had the middle. Ashley Cole had the left. Paul Scholes and Nicky Butt had the centre. Owen and Emile Heskey. Golden generation is not a headline they invented after. It was the name they were already spending. Brazil were Brazil. England, for a fortnight, had decided that was a problem they had already solved once, in 1966, and could solve again because they had the names. The names do not float free-kicks from forty yards. The names do not invent a shot when they have a man extra and half an hour.
They kicked off anyway.
England sat in, which is how you play Brazil if you have learned anything, and then, against the run of it, Lúcio made a mess and Owen was onto it and the far corner was his. Twenty-three minutes. One-nil, and the English end making a mockery of the fear that Brazil would own the stands. They were in control of a quarter-final against Brazil. That is the last easy feeling they get on these afternoons. The errors started before the interval. Beckham and Scholes lost Kleberson. Ronaldinho went at Cole, stepped over, and slid it to Rivaldo, who finished it as if the hour had always been his. Two minutes into first-half stoppage. One-one, and the procession had become a game again.
Four minutes after the restart Ronaldinho stood over a free-kick from forty yards and more. A big gap. He floated it. It drifted, dipped, and dropped over Seaman, who was off his line the way he had been off it for Nayim in Paris seven years earlier, and went in off the underside. Two-one. Seaman said later he thought it was a mis-kick and he misjudged it. Gareth Southgate called it a cross that drifted freakishly on the wind. Beckham called it a freak goal, a cross that ended up in the net. Brazil said Cafu had told Ronaldinho that Seaman came off his line at free-kicks. Cafu had been in the Zaragoza side when Nayim did it. Did he mean it? It does not matter. It went in from forty yards. Then Ronaldinho stamped on Danny Mills and went off, and England had half an hour against ten men and could not invent a shot that looked like an equaliser. Eriksson said there were no regrets. The faces said otherwise. Winter saw regrets stained on them like teardrops.
Seaman met the press and broke. I just want to say sorry to all the fans. I feel as if I have let people down. I thought he mis-kicked the free-kick and I misjudged it. Beckham said if anyone made a scapegoat of him it would be an absolute disgrace, that he had been the best keeper in the tournament. Teddy Sheringham, who had come on, said he was still the world’s best. Kieron Dyer said he had been a mountain. They can have the loyalty. The picture is Beckham with an arm round a man in tears, which is the one the Telegraph put under England’s crying shame. Scolari went on to win the thing. England went home with a free-kick and a generation that would keep being golden and keep going out.
Owen had the finish and not the legs. Ronaldinho had the step-over, the float, and the red. Rivaldo had the execution. Seaman had the line, the dip, and the apology. Beckham had the consolation of a teammate and not much of a game once the adrenalin of the return had gone. Cole had the step-over done to him. Scholes and Beckham had the giveaway that made the equaliser cheap. Mills had the stamp. Eriksson had no regrets, which is a sentence that only works if you have just made ten men look like eleven. Ferdinand had a night that will be remembered for the run he did not stop. The golden generation had another quarter-final to put with the others.
They said we’re not going home. They said no regrets. They said a cross that drifted. They said sorry. If you still think it was only the wind, a funeral is only a Tuesday. The wind was a story they liked. The free-kick was a goal. The half-hour with a man extra was the bit they do not put on the film they show the children.
The film is up. FIFA still keep the quarter-final: Owen, Rivaldo, the float, the red, the half-hour with nothing in it. Do not review it. Watch Seaman take a step, and the ball drop where he is not.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cua6tJCywY
Related reading
- One stupid boy — Saint-Étienne 1998, the advert Beckham was still trying to rewrite
- Football's not coming home — Moscow 2018, another night the hymn outran the legs
If the nights sit right, the shirts and the wall are at /shop.
FAQ
What was the score when Brazil beat England in Shizuoka 2002?
Brazil 2–1 England, on 21 June 2002 at Shizuoka Stadium. Owen scored for England; Rivaldo and Ronaldinho for Brazil.
Why is it called “a cross that drifted”?
Southgate called Ronaldinho’s free-kick a cross that drifted freakishly on the wind; Beckham called it a freak goal. Seaman thought it was a mis-kick. It went in from forty yards off the underside.
Did England have a man advantage after Ronaldinho’s red?
Yes. Ronaldinho was sent off for a stamp on Danny Mills; England had about half an hour against ten men and did not equalise.