It was a common joke made by Ramón Grosso (1943-2002) at the Real Madrid veterans' meetings: “Let anyone who has won a World Cup stand up!” Neither Pirri, nor Paco Gento (1933-2022) nor Amancio Amaro; None of those who had turned Madrid into European champions so many times could do so.
He wouldn't be in those gatherings, but, if he had been invited, Luis Suárez wouldn't get up either. Not the Uruguayan, of course, but the other Luis Suárez: the A Coruña native who, as a player for FC Barcelona, would be the first Spaniard to win the Ballon d'Or; the second was the Catalan Alexia Putellas in 2021.
Then the Quinta del Buitre and the Barcelona Dream Team arrived, but the team still had not won what any youth team dreams of. That is why Iker Casillas cried so much after winning the World Cup in South Africa in 2010. As he explained on the television program Robinson Report, because the “calamities” that he had heard since he was a child convinced him and his entire generation that the Spanish team was a team. damned".
Many years before that victory came, that was the fun of Ramón Grosso's joke, because he had indeed won a soccer World Cup. Well, maybe not the one who organizes FIFA, but the military version of him.
Known today as the Military World Cup, it is a tournament that since 1946 has pitted teams made up of armies from around the world. Since 1948 it has done so under the umbrella of the International Council of Military Sports (CISM), an organization that, after two world wars, emerged to promote peace through sport.
Military World Cup? Even the most football fans won't find it too familiar, and it's not surprising. Of the last final, which was played in Oman in 2017, it is almost impossible to find a mention in the Spanish press.
It wasn't always like this. In December 1964, the Spanish military team managed to attract 40,000 spectators for its debut at the Ramón Sánchez-Pizjuán stadium (Seville), in addition to grabbing quite a few sports headlines. The information comes from Sergio Galán, a researcher who, for a 2017 article in the magazine Cuadernos de Fútbol, investigated the adventures of that team. In doing so, he recovered a forgotten history: that of an almost unknown competition that ended up causing a sensation in its 1964-1965 edition.
The reason is the “military”. At that time all young people had to do military service, even if they were First Division players. Surely, that's what Lieutenant Colonel Luis Alfonso Villalaín (1918-1984) thought when the Ministry of the Army entrusted him with selecting the players who would go to the Military World Cup.
With Jesús Glaría (1942-1978), Juan Guedes (1942-1971), Manuel Polinario (Poli), Francisco Fernández (Gallego), Roberto Rodríguez (Rodri), José María García Lavilla, Josep Maria Fusté, José Ufarte or Grosso, that one team was like an under-21 team, or even better.
Of course, while they were with Villalaín, the players would have to submit to the military hierarchy and discipline. When they were not playing they would wear the uniform of their respective military branches and ranks. And, unfortunately for them, they would not travel on commercial flights. They would do it in the C-207 of the Air Force, much slower and more uncomfortable.
That this was not a typical team is made clear by the coach's biography. Villalaín was a historic figure in Spanish war aviation, who during the Civil War (1936-1939) had flown with the Condor Legion and who later became known for being one of the introducers of military parachuting in Spain.
But the Ministry did not choose him for that, but because in 1950 he had promoted Murcia to the First Division and because he had trained Racing de Santander for a few months. This made him perhaps the only soldier with experience in the higher ranks. Furthermore, that his choice was a success was demonstrated when, in that first match in Seville, he managed to tie France and then eliminate them in the second match.
That was followed by a match with Portugal in which, once again, the Spanish proved to be better physically. Above all, to make a mark that would annul the great Eusébio (1942-2014), who won the Ballon d'Or that year.
In the second leg, the Insular Stadium (Las Palmas) hosted 30,000 people. An unusual fact that, as Galán explains, is due to the fact that the Canary Islands were not used to receiving stars of that level.
It is true that being considered a football “star” did not come with the perks of today. Needless to say, the salary that the players received for doing military service, which was almost symbolic.
Hence the curious anecdote that Galán explains in his article, and which today seems laughable. Apparently, those selected took advantage of those military flights – which were exempt from going through customs – to return home loaded with household appliances. Just what Ufarte did after that tie in the Canary Islands, when he almost had to leave a television on the ground because it didn't fit through the plane door. In any case, they returned victorious and were able to qualify for the final phase of the tournament, which the CISM decided would be held in Asturias.
They started badly, with a defeat against Türkiye that almost ended with Spain being eliminated. Not because of the bad result, but because of the kicking and pushing that took place at the end of the match. In fact, a deliberation by the CISM Technical Committee was necessary so that Villalaín's men could face Belgium and, after defeating them, qualify to play the final against Morocco.
They would play it on July 8 at the El Molinón stadium, with the novelty that this time there would be television cameras. The narration, which was live, was provided by Matías Prats (1913-2004), the famous “voice of the NO-DO” and father of the well-known news presenter.
It is true that it was the final, but the media coverage arrived for the match that was expected to be the least vibrant of all. Morocco was no match for Spain, and hence the fouls, kicks and even blows with which they tried to stop Villalaín's team. It was of no use, and they won by a comfortable 3-0.
It wasn't the World Cup, but Galán says that that day the players celebrated it as if it were, so much so as to break military decorum. They carried their lieutenant colonel on their shoulders, and even dared to speak with General Sagardoy (1901-1990), the highest authority of that team.
The next day there was a cover in Marca and some discreet celebration. Little more. That was almost forgotten and Spain did not win another Military World Cup. Certainly not the one in 1966, from which the team ended up falling behind after a match – again with Morocco – that ended in a pitched battle. The fight was so violent that the referee had to retreat to the booth and Ufarte had to tear out a goal post to prevent the Moroccans from lynching him.
