Geoff Hurst, England 4-2 West Germany, 1966 World Cup Final, Wembley (commentary by Kenneth Wolstenholme, BBC).
Carlos Alberto: Brazil 4-1 Italy, 1970 World Cup Final, Estadio Azteca, Mexico City (commentary by Kenneth Wolstenholme, BBC).
Marco Tardelli: Italy 3-1 West Germany, 1982 World Cup Final, Estadio Santiago Bernabeu, Madrid (commentary by Nando Martellini, RAI).
Gary Lineker: England 3-0 Polanc, 1986 World Cup, Estadio Universitario, Monterrey (commentary by Barry Davies, BBC).
Diego Maradona: Argentina 2-1 England, 1986 World Cup Final (commentary by Barry Davies, BBC).
Roberto Baggio Italy 2-0 Czechoslovakia, 1990 World Cup, Stadio Olimpico, Rome (commentary by John Motson, BBC).
Michael Owen: England 2-2 Argentina, 1998 World Cup, Stade Geoffroy-Guichard, Saint-Etienne (commentary by Brian Moore, ITV).
Though I may be one of the biggest football lovers I know, I’ve never been to a World Cup match. Despite the packed crowds at every tournament the vast majority of soccer fans only ever experience the game’s greatest spectacle through the medium of television. While I wouldn’t turn down two tickets to Brasil ’14, nothing brings home the exotic glory of the World Cup quite like the sight of sun-drenched foreign stadia beamed via satellite from a faraway land, straight into one’s living room.
With this project I wanted to celebrate the relationship between TV and football, and how especially with the World Cup the two things become inexorably linked. The commentator’s is a frankly thankless task: often he’s a distraction or an irritation, other times he goes unheard beneath the cheering. But although these are simply spontaneous reactions blurted out in the heat of a moment, when seen and not heard the words take on a different quality.
Most of these clips have been shown repeatedly down the years, their narration as familiar as lines from a pop song or hit movie. A goal of great beauty or significance serves only to enhance the work of the commentator. Sometimes a goal’s commentary can become even more iconic than the goal itself, as in the case of Kenneth Wolstenholme’s oft-repeated “They think it’s all over” line in 1966. The diagrams of the movement leading up to the scoring chance are simply a visual reference, further highlighting the futility of illustrating a goal and the odd sensation of experiencing commentary without footage.
In 2014 television plays a less fundamental role in our consumption of the World Cup, and we can replay any goal at any time in the palms of our hands. But I still prefer to watch games on TV, at home, where I can give the match my full concentration. Sadly today the role of the commentator has become more conversational, their speech peppered with pre-written puns and ham-fisted alliteration. The voices are still there, but it seems no-one else is listening.
