Within three years the European Cup had risen to become the pinnacle of the continental game and the most prestigious club competition in the world. Shiny new stadiums with packed crowds generating increased revenues. Floodlights lighting up the action on the field. Matches televised to national and international audiences. No club represented this new exotic form of football more than Real Madrid and no player represented the changing face of European football more than Ferenc Puskás.

In the summer of 1954, Puskás (27 years old) was captain of the best team in the world, international or club – you choose. His goal against England at Wembley, the drag back which left Billy Wright a ‘fire engine going to the wrong fire’ was the iconic goal of football’s early televisual years. Yet, in just over two years his world would change dramatically, and at the age of 29, he would face an 18-month ban from football and his homeland. A well-known fan of the culinary arts and the whisky too, Puskás’ career seemed to be over. Had it stopped after its first-act, his place in history would still have been assured; Olympic Champion, World Cup Runner-Up, 84 goals in 85 games for Hungary, 358 in 350 for Honved. Though friendlies sound trivial to us now, the Wembley victory is a trophy in itself. Played at a time when there was no European Championship and England’s sum total of World Cup matches stood at three, and only one of those was against another European team (Spain), they were the first team to shatter the aura of English invincibility and set in stone a new era for football, in Britain at least.

Act One would see him play for his hometown village team (Kispest) with his father as coach. Act Two he would join the most successful, glamorous and excessive club in Europe. Act One: Socialism and the Warsaw Pact, Act Two: Fascism and NATO. Act One: Best Actor, Act Two: Best Supporting Actor.

The early days of the European Cup, like all of football history, are littered with what if moments? What if the competition had started in 1948, would Torino be the Real Madrid? What if Barcelona had kept Di Stéfano? What if that plane had taken off safely from the runway in Munich? What if Pele had moved to Europe? What if the star of socialist Hungary, Europe’s team of the decade in the 50s, had defected and joined Real Madrid? The answer? He’d play in four European Cup finals, win two (arguably three – if you consider his role in the early rounds of 1965/66 season) and score 50% of all hat-tricks ever scored in finals. Not to mention five La Liga titles, the Intercontinental Cup and 156 goals in 180 appearances. Not quite Honved numbers, but he was on the wrong side of 30 and La Liga was a little more competitive.

Puskás serves as the monument to the golden period of Hungarian football. A nation that gave so much to the development of the game throughout Europe and the World, denied the consecration that their equivalents in South America, Uruguay achieved in 1930 and 1950, settling only for two silver medals in 1938 and 1954. When Hungary handed Uruguay their first defeat at a World Cup in the ‘match of the century’ in 1954, it was seen as a passing of the baton, Rioplatense to Danubian. In fact, it marked the end for both countries as consistent competitors on the international stage. And for Hungary, aside from a decent performance in 1966 and Florian Albert’s European Footballer of the Year Award in 1967, there has been no Francescoli, Forlan or Suarez.

Born in 1927 on the outskirts of Budapest, as Ferenc Purczeld, the family would change their name to the more Hungarian sounding ‘Puskás’ in the mid-1930s. From 1920 to 1944 Hungary was ruled by a right-wing Nationalist regime led by Miklós Horthy and though they entered into an alliance with Nazi Germany in 1938, avoiding any suggestion of foreign sympathies was beneficial for the family. His father may have had an eye on the future as ‘Puskás’ translates to ‘rifleman’ in Hungarian. Puskás would join the army and famously achieve the rank of Major but it was with the ball he would develop his deadly shooting reputation.

He would strike up a great friendship with his neighbour József Bozsik, a couple of years his senior, and would make his debut for Kispest FC in 1943 at 16, a few months after Boszik. Following the war, Hungary would become a satellite state of the USSR, and sport, like all other elements of society, would adjust to Soviet influence. This meant a desire to create a team of the army, like CSKA Moscow. Kispest was chosen as it did not have the baggage of other clubs such as Ferencváros, who had links to Fascist elements and it also had two of the brightest stars in Hungarian football: Puskás and Bozsik. Thus Kispest became Honved (Defender of the Motherland). Puskás’s father Ferenc Puskás Sr. coached the team from 1948 until shortly before his untimely death in 1952 and Junior was certainly given the benefit of the doubt frequently.

In 1947, Puskás would play for the national team in Turin where they played an Italian side made up solely of players from Il Grande Torino including their iconic leader Valentino Mazzola. Hungary would lose 3-2 but Puskás was offered $100,000 to join Juventus following the match. He declined the offer because of concerns of potential post-war recriminations to wartime German sympathisers as he recalled:

‘With German ancestry, my family might have been forced to live somewhere they didn’t want to or, worse, even sent to camps. My presence in Budapest made that prospect much less likely, so I gave up any plans I might otherwise have made.’^

The early 50s were a haze of crimson glory both with Honved and the National team, but defeat in Berne in 1954 to West Germany in the World Cup final was never overcome. Politically, the country was forced to face up to its own period of De-Stalinization which created the conditions for the uprising of 1956 and the subsequent hard-line Soviet response. But it was the European Cup that created the opportunity for Puskás to defect to the West.

Following the exit to Athletic Bilbao in the autumn of 1956, Honved received an opportunity to go on tour to South America, which set the group on a collision course with the Hungarian FA. The situation in Budapest would not be conducive to playing football and with no league football looking possible until the spring of 1956, the tour seemed the best option for players to remain match sharp. FIFA were asked not to sanction the tour by the Hungarian FA but they refused to get involved. Players were then offered the chance to go on tour at a later date, in return for them coming home. They refused and got on the boat.

Panic from the Hungarian officials was understandable. The entire Under-21 side was at a tournament in Belgium and the nation’s top athletes were in Melbourne for the Olympics. The FA also had a new president, Marton Nagy and when the players returned in late February to Vienna, he made his presence felt in a move that would be appreciated by the Soviet regime. Puskás, the highest profile and considered by the regime to be the ringleader, was to be banned for 18 months. He remained in exile but willing to return to Hungary if the ban was rescinded. The FA refused and at that point, the die was cast.

‘At that stage of my footballing life, almost thirty years old, I felt the ban was a virtual death-sentence for my career,’ Puskás told Rogan Taylor in Puskás on Puskás. ‘I might never kick a ball in serious competition again. I told them, I’m sorry but no thanks, goodbye. That’s how I left them, and a few days later I flew with my wife and family to Italy.’

It certainly was not a simple decision. Puskás was in the army. This was not only defection, it was desertion too. It was however tempered by the fact he had his wife and child with him. Many others did not, and if they did, they had parents and siblings relying on them in Hungary with no guarantee that they would not face recriminations. Boszik, a member of the Communist party and deputy in the Hungarian parliament, whose mother and four siblings remained in Budapest, elected to stay in the East.

Many defections from Communist nations were the result of desire to exploit personal freedoms and obtain wealth, and although Puskás was well-paid in the West, he had lived a privileged life in Budapest, supplementing his income with a successful smuggling enterprise when Honved returned from away trips. In 1961 when his departure was still fresh he spoke of ‘abandoning his country’ and the happiness he enjoyed with his teammates and sadness for ‘a phase in life that was closed abruptly, and beyond recall.’^ Throughout his whole time in Spain Hungarian authorities would keep close watch on Puskás, giving him the codename Vandor with suggestions he would face a death sentence if he ever returned. It would be 1981 before he would ever set foot in Hungary again.

Koscis and Czibor who each received a one-year ban, had now joined another Hungarian exile, László Kubala at Barcelona, following the serving of their one year suspension. The eighteen month ban was due to end on July 19th 1958 and Puskás looked set to sign for Inter Milan with whom he had been training for three months. In May, however, Inter pulled out of the deal. As luck would have it Emil Osterreicher had been appointed Technical Director of Real. Osterreicher was previously the financial secretary of Honved and like Puskás et al, had also refused to return to Hungary following the South American tour.

Osterreicher’s story is another one of many remarkable tales of the era. A former soldier, as a Jew he had been forced to join a labour battalion in Ukraine during the war. After making an escape he settled in Budapest following the war and opened up a restaurant which was popular with many footballers but not popular enough to keep it afloat. Osterreicher had involvement with Vasas and Győr in football previously and when he was called up to the army again, Honved became a natural choice for him to avoid active service. By 1956 he was in charge of the football division of the club but he too made the decision not to return to West and secured himself one of the top jobs in European football. Drawing on the connection he made with Bernabéu when he brought the Honved team to play there he convinced the President to make him Technical Director of Real Madrid.

‘My first job was to locate and suggest players to strengthen the squad,’ recalled Osterreicher. ‘Of course, I was already thinking about Puskás but Bernabéu didn’t seem keen. So I just sat on the idea for a while. Finally, after Inter failed to sign him, Bernabéu agreed that I should contact Puskás.’^

Osterricher had been in Italy scouting Milan ahead of the 1958 final, and the next day the deal was done. Within six weeks Puskás dropped the weight he was carrying through a regime of no bread, no alcohol, no spaghetti and donning plastic wrapping and extra sweaters in training. Although he would still retain a portly midriff for the remainder of his career, Puskás still possessed rapid acceleration when required. In a litany of great left foots, his remains one of the finest the game has ever known, and he was christened ‘Cañocito Pum!’, Little Cannon Bang by the Spanish media.

Crucially, he also got along with Di Stéfano. Its hard to make an argument that Di Stéfano and Puskás were not the two best players of the 1950s and it’s also probable that they were still the two best players in Europe for a couple more golden years. At the turn of the century France Football asked former Balon D’Or winners to name their player of the century. Di Stéfano finished 4th, Puskás 7th, World Soccer Magazine had them at 6th and 7th respectively.

Having been the focal point and leader of Honved and Hungary, it was an adjustment for Puskás to play second fiddle, yet he was canny enough to play the diplomatic game, going out of the tunnel last, and famously, setting Di Stéfano up in the final league game of hist first season when he could have scored himself. The goal ensured Di Stéfano would finish one goal ahead in the goal-scoring charts that season. Puskás would finish the top scorer for the next four.

His impact on the European Cup was less significant in his first year, 1958/59. He was sent off in the quarter final first leg against the Austrian side Wiener Sport Club and failed to score in the first round against Besiktas. The Austrians had crumbled in the Bernabéu however, losing 7-1 with Di Stéfano grabbing four. Puskás returned for the semi, which would again see them playing Spanish opposition. Indeed, they would face Spanish sides every year between ‘58 and ‘61, an indicator of the small size of the field and the strength of La Liga. This time it was expected they wouldn’t need to leave Madrid, as they had been drawn against Atlético, last season’s league runner’s up, yet they ended up, 300 kilometres away, in front of 20,000 fans.

It was across these games that Puskás made his mark. Atletico were a powerful side and featured the outstanding Brazillian Vava who starred alongside Pele and Didi as they won their first World Cup in Sweden the summer previous. Real won 2-1 at home. Puskás scored the game winner from the spot, after Rial had canceled out Chuzo’s opener for Los Colchoneros for whom Vava had a penalty saved from Rogelio Dominguez. Enrique Collar would score the only goal at the Metropolitano, and so a third game was required. Bernabéu typically made the gracious offer to host, but Atleti were not seduced by the potential of sharing the larger pot of ticket sales and so the play-off was held at another Royal club, Real Zaragoza’s recently opened La Romareda Stadium.

Having been Madrid’s top dogs since the civil war, Atletico were now destined to be forever outshone by their prettier sister and so the pattern was set in stone with this game. Collar struck again, after Di Stéfano had put Real ahead but Puskás would win the game and send Real to a fourth straight final. The two would not meet again in the tournament for over 50 years until the final of 2014 and amazingly enough, at the same point, two years later. In both occasions, Atletico would snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, most heartbreakingly in 2014 when Sergio Ramos headed home, three minutes into stoppage time. In a strange quirk, in the 2016 final, like Vava before him, Antoine Greizzman, Atletico’s star striker missed a penalty. History is often destined to repeat itself.

As it was with the 1959 final where Real would play Reims again. In truth the 58/59 edition was probably the weakest of the five consecutive Real wins with the Italian and English presence ended by the first round. Juventus set in motion an underwhelming relationship with the European Cup by crashing out to the Wiener club 8-3 on aggregate in the preliminary round. After winning 3-1 in Turin, and despite a side which featured Omar Sivori and John Charles, they lost 7-0 (SEVEN) in Vienna.

English representatives Wolves would make progress one round further and Gabriel Hanot must have had a wry smile on his face as the ‘Champions of the World’ of four years previous were knocked out by Schalke 04, 4-3 over the two legs. Wolves had won the league ahead of United and would still have done so regardless of Munich, and had beaten Real in a friendly at Molineux the year previous. Based on United’s success, much was expected of them. Wolves went behind early on at home but seemed to have produced another famous turnaround with two goals in the second half. Typically, these both came in the air, with England forward, Peter Broadbent grabbing both. The cruel realities of two-leg football, illustrating, of course, Hanot’s original point, came into sharp focus when the Germans grabbed an equaliser two minutes from time. In Gelsenkirchen, Wolves were two down by half-time and on this occasion their fight back fell short as they could only find one goal in the second period. For Stan Culis it was no great sorrow: ‘My ambition as a manager was to win the first division championship, not the European Cup. To win the European Cup required a different style. It required players to go against their natural game, and this I was not prepared to do.’^

His priorities would have been music to the ears of league secretary Alan Hardaker, who along with the rest of the league chairman refused to let Busby’s United take their spot in the preliminary round which had been generously given to them by UEFA. It would be seven years before Busby’s next great team would compete with Europe’s elite.

Following Kopa’s departure after the inaugural final, Reims had retooled and signed a number of French Internationals, including Jean Vincent, Roger Piantoni and Just Fontaine. All three would star alongside Kopa and Coach Batteux, who doubled up as French manager, in the ‘58 World Cup, where France fell to Brazil in the semis. Fontaine, who grew up in Morocco to a French mother and Spanish father, had scored 13 goals in the tournament, a record which has yet to be broken.

The final was held in West Germany in the Neckarstadion in Stuttgart, originally built as the Adolf-Hitler-Kampfbahn in 1933. Whilst Reims had strengthened, so too had Real, and the final was the most comfortable of the five victories. The forward line comprised Gento, Rial, Di Stéfano,Kopa and Matteos and the latter had the ball in the net in the first minute, beating Leblond with ease in the inside left channel and with the outside of his right foot stabbing it in off the far post. 15 minutes later, he had a penalty saved by Dominique Colonna, another Reims addition. Kopa who would return to Reims (and centre forward) following this game, with three European Cup Winners Medals and the 1958 Balon D’Or in his suitcase, played little part in the game, after in his words, being ‘savagely and deliberately fouled by Jean Vincent.’^ Predictably, Di Stéfano sealed the match with a powerful drive from the edge of the box, maintaining his record of scoring in every final.

Tension between coach Luis Carniglia and Puskás which had been festering during the season came to the fore when the Hungarian was dropped for the final. In Puskás’ account:

‘The coach hadn’t said anything to me at all during the few days’ training in Germany, but an hour before the game he came over and told me I was ‘injured’ and wouldn’t be playing. There was little I could do about it.’^

Little Puskás could do about yes, but the man sat in the stand alongside him, Santiago Bernabéu certainly could. In a move that Jupp Heynckes and Vicente Del Bosque could well relate to, Carniglia, was removed despite winning the European Cup.

While they ruled in Europe, Real’s reign in Spain had hit a roadblock. Barcelona coached by Helenio Herrera had usurped them, winning the title by four points. They also lifted the Copa del Generalísimo (Copa del Rey), knocking Real out in the semis by an aggregate score of 7-3 and had lifted the Inter-Cities Fairs Cup in ‘58. Now their eyes were on the grandest prize of them all.