Soccer in Sun and Shadow

The Machine

In the early 1940s, the Argentine club River Plate had one of the best soccer teams of all time.

“Some go in, others come out, everyone moves up, everyone falls back,” explained Carlos Peucelle, one of the parents of this brood. The players traded places in a permanent rotation, defenders attacked, attackers defended: “On the blackboard and on the field,” Peucelle liked to say, “our tactical plan is not the traditional 1–2–3–5. It’s 1–10.”

Even though everyone did everything on that River team, the forward line was the best. Muñoz, Moreno, Pedernera, Labruna, and Loustau played only eighteen matches together, but they made history and they still make for conversation. These five played by ear, whistling to each other to make their way upfield and to call to the ball, which followed like a happy dog and never lost its way.

People called that legendary team “The Machine” because of its precision plays. Dubious praise: these strikers had so much fun playing they’d forget to shoot at the goal. They had nothing in common with the mechanical coldness of a machine. Fans were fairer when they called them the “Knights of Anguish,” because those bastards made their devotees sweat bullets before allowing them the relief of a goal.