Words: Jonee // @Jonee13
In a world where nothing exists in true isolation, football and politics have been intertwined since the beginning. Often, football has served as a tool for political purposes. If you doubt this simple claim, consider the landscape of national teams during the 1990s. Several teams ceased to exist in direct connection with the collapse of the USSR, including the Soviet Union team itself, as well as those of East and West Germany and Czechoslovakia. For most of us, football acts as a distraction from the 'real world,' yet in truth, it is profoundly shaped by global political events.
The final matches of Europe’s lost national teams lay bare this fusion, their legacies tethered to political tides. Let’s look at some examples.
The Soviet Union (1924-1991)
A footballing titan for most of the 20th Century, The Soviet Union (or USSR) boasted the 1960 European Championship title and Olympic gold in 1956 and 1988. Legends like Lev Yashin, the ‘Black Spider’ goalkeeper, and Oleg Blokhin, a Ballon d’Or-winning striker, defined their might. Their most famous result was a 2–1 win over Yugoslavia in the 1960 Euro final. Their last game came on November 13 1991 in Larnaca, a 3–0 victory over Cyprus in a Euro 1992 qualifier. Andrei Kanchelskis and Igor Kolyvanov scored, coached by Anatoliy Byshovets.
Weeks later, the USSR dissolved, its football empire fracturing in the process.
Igor Belanov celebrating after scoring against Belgium at Mexico ‘86.
Photo Credit: ESPN
Yugoslavia (1920-1992)
Born in 1920 as the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, Yugoslavia shone brightest with a 1960 Olympic Gold and finishing runners-up at the Euros in 1960 and 1968. Players like Dragan Džajić and Stjepan Bobek fuelled their flair. Their 3–0 thrashing of West Germany in the 1962 World Cup quarterfinals stands out as one of their best results.
Their final act as the Socialist Federal Republic was on March 25, 1992 in Amsterdam. They lost 0–2 in a friendly against the Dutch. Darko Pančev and Zvonimir Boban, under Ivica Osim, faced a Dutch side with Marco van Basten, their defeat a prelude to the Yugoslav Wars and sanctions that barred them from Euro 1992. The Yugoslavia National Team would eventually split and become Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, North Macedonia and Montenegro.
Yugoslavia Team Photo, World Cup 1990.
Photo Credit: Getty Images
East Germany (1952-1990) and West Germany (1949-1990)
From 1952 to 1990, East Germany carved a niche in football by excelling in and winning the 1976 Olympic Gold, after stunning West Germany in a 1-0 win at the 1974 World Cup—their most famous result. Jürgen Sparwasser, who scored that goal, and Joachim Streich, the nation’s top scorer, were East Germany’s icons. Their last match was on September 12, 1990 in Brussels, a 2–0 friendly win over Belgium. Matthias Sammer and Ulf Kirsten, coached by Eduard Geyer, starred as the backdrop of reunification loomed, folding their legacy into a unified Germany weeks later
That same day, West Germany—active from 1949 to 1990—played their final game in Düsseldorf, drawing 1–1 with England. With three World Cups (1954, 1974, 1990) and three Euros (1972, 1980, 1988), plus stars like Franz Beckenbauer and Gerd Müller, West Germany peaked with the 1974 World Cup final win over the Netherlands. Jürgen Klinsmann and Lothar Matthäus shone in that last friendly.
The 1990 Yugoslavia vs. West Germany World Cup Quarter-Final tie in Milan carried the weight of a fracturing nation. Yugoslavia lost 1–0 to Lothar Matthäus’s penalty. Played as Yugoslavia teetered toward civil war—Slovenia and Croatia would declare independence within a year—the San Siro clash pitted a multi-ethnic squad against a soon-to-be-unified Germany.
East Germany v West Germany, 1974.
Photo Credit: Unplugged Routes
Czechoslovakia (1919-1993)
Czechoslovakia, existing from 1920 to 1993, claimed the 1976 European Championship—beating West Germany on penalties—and a 1934 World Cup runner-up spot. Antonín Panenka, namesake of the famous penalty technique, and Josef Masopust, a 1962 Ballon d’Or winner, headlined their golden era.
Their 3–2 upset of Brazil in the 1962 World Cup quarter-finals remains one of the most legendary results in the tournaments’ history. Their final game was played on November 17, 1993, also in Brussels, a 0–0 draw with Belgium in a 1994 World Cup qualifier. The Velvet Divorce had already split the nation into the Czech Republic and Slovakia, rendering the match a formality.
Czechoslovakia playing Santos in a friendly match in Chile, 1965.
Photo Credit: WikiMedia Commons
Serbia and Montenegro (2003-2006)
A short-lived successor to Yugoslavia, Serbia and Montenegro inherited a complex past but no major honours as a joint entity. Its predecessor, the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, reached the 1998 World Cup quarter-finals. Players like Predrag Mijatović and Savo Milošević had starred earlier, and in their final outing on June 21, 2006 in Munich—a 2–3 World Cup loss to Ivory Coast— Nikola Žigić and Dejan Stanković, coached by Petar Petrović, fought on.
Montenegro’s independence weeks prior ended the union, splitting the squad into two.
Serbia and Montenegro Squad Photo, 2006.
Photo Credit: TNT Sports
Rhodesia (1965-1980)
Rhodesia added something of a rugged twist. Never a FIFA powerhouse, they leaned on local talent like Bobby Chalmers and Bruce Grobbelaar, who would later become a Liverpool legend. Their best result was a 3–1 win over South Africa in their final match on July 8, 1977 in Salisbury, now known as Harare. Rhodesia became Zimbabwe in 1980 after declaring independence from Britain and the removal of the White minority government.
These teams’ final acts were not just endings; more, they were epilogues. Kanchelskis couldn’t halt the Soviet fall; Džajić’s successors like Pančev played as Yugoslavia burned. Sammer bridged East Germany’s end, while Matthäus crowned West Germany’s reign. Panenka’s legacy faded with Němeček’s draw, and Žigić’s goals marked a Balkan fracture. Chalmers shone briefly in Rhodesia’s isolation. Football, pitched as respite, instead framed the World’s political dramas.
This tension spilled beyond fallen teams into matches where football became a proxy for global strife. USA vs. Iran at the 1998 World Cup is the perfect example of this. The match became labelled as one of the most political charged in football history. It transcended the sport. The nations hadn’t faced each other since the 1979 Iranian Revolution and the U.S. Hostage Crisis; diplomatic ties were severed, and enmity ran deep. Iran’s Hamid Estili headed in the opener, and Mehdi Mahdavikia sealed it. Under coach Tomislav Ivić, Iran’s triumph—cheered as a symbolic blow against the ‘Great Satan’—came amid a pre-match show of peace from Iran’s players, who offered handshakes and white flowers to their American counterparts.
Northern Rhodesian Soccer Team, 1956.
Photo Credit: Mwebantu
El Salvador vs. Honduras in 1969, contesting a trio of World Cup qualifiers, ignited the ‘Football War.’ The decisive match on June 27 in Mexico City saw El Salvador win 3–2 in extra time, with Juan Ramón Martínez scoring twice. Tensions over migration and border disputes had simmered for years, and the games became flashpoints. Riots followed, and within weeks, a four-day war erupted, killing thousands. Football didn’t cause the conflict, but it provided the catalyst for an already volatile situation to erupt.
Yet football’s power as a reflection of the world persists even when its actors— players, coaches and fans—seem oblivious to it. Football’s context often betrays a deeper truth. When Chile faced the Soviet Union in a 1973 World Cup playoff, the match ended in a surreal 0–0 walkover. The Soviets refused to play, protesting the recent coup that ousted Salvador Allende and installed Augusto Pinochet’s junta. Chile’s players—Francisco Valdés and Carlos Caszely among them—took the field alone, kicking off against an absent opponent in the Estadio Nacional, then a detention site for political prisoners. The players’ casual stroll to score an unopposed goal belied the grim reality: football mirrored a nation’s violent rupture, even if the act felt like a formality to those on the pitch.
Decades later, the 2014 World Cup Qualifier between Ukraine and in Kharkiv, Ukraine—a 1–0 Ukrainian win—played out as Crimea’s annexation loomed. Yevhen Konoplyanka’s late strike thrilled the home crowd, but the match’s tension stemmed from Moscow’s escalating pressure. Fans chanted and coaches strategized while the backdrop of war threatened to come to the fore.
Even club football reflects this dynamic. The 1991 European Cup final on May 29 saw Red Star Belgrade defeat Marseille 5–3 on penalties after a 0–0 draw. Red Star lifted the trophy as Yugoslavia stood on the brink of collapse, with Croatia and Slovenia’s independence declarations weeks away. The victory was a monolithic sporting achievement, yet the players’ celebrations masked the chaos engulfing their homeland.
Photo from one of the matches which sparked ‘The Football War’.
Photo Credit: Attacking Football
Football’s mirror extends beyond reflection into deliberate manipulation, where regimes wield the sport as a vehicle for propaganda. In fascist Italy, Benito Mussolini seized the 1934 World Cup, hosted in Rome, as a stage to flaunt his regime’s strength. The Azzurri clinched a 2–1 extra-time win over Czechoslovakia in the final, though allegations of corruption, the bribing of officials and state pressure soon followed. Mussolini greeted the team in fascist salutes, the victory plastered across propaganda reels to legitimize his rule. For Il Duce, this World Cup victory – and the follow-up in 1938 – were major political moments. He had used football to gain legitimacy and consolidate power.
Across the Atlantic, Argentina’s 1978 World Cup under General Jorge Rafael Videla’s was similar. Hosting amid a ‘Dirty War’ of disappearances and repression, the regime poured resources into the tournament, ensuring a 3–1 final win over the Netherlands. The victory—tainted by claims of a rigged 6–0 thrashing of Peru to secure advancement—drowned out cries of the oppressed. Across eras, these regimes leaned on the power of football’s mass appeal.
This weaponization persists today. Qatar’s 2022 World Cup was less about sporting glory than soft power. Billions spent on stadiums and hosting rights polished Qatar’s global image amid blatant human rights abuses. Russia’s 2018 tournament, opened with that 5–0 rout of Saudi Arabia, doubled as Vladimir Putin’s defiance against sanctions.
Football has also been a lightning rod for nationalism and identity politics in the 21st century. The sport’s tribal nature often amplifies political tensions. In Europe, this has been particularly evident in the context of rising populism and debates over immigration. During the 2016 UEFA European Championship, for example, England’s campaign unfolded against the backdrop of the Brexit referendum. The team’s supporters, draped in St. George’s Cross flags, became a canvas for broader debates about British identity and sovereignty. Chants and banners at matches reflected both patriotic fervour and anti-EU sentiment, illustrating how football can mirror and magnify political divisions.
Elsewhere, football has fuelled separatist movements. In Spain, the rivalry between FC Barcelona and Real Madrid—known as "El Clásico"—is steeped in political undertones. Barcelona, a symbol of Catalan identity, has long been associated with the region’s push for independence from Spain. In the 21st century, this dynamic intensified as Catalonia’s secessionist movement gained momentum. During matches, Barça fans often wave the Estelada flag and chant pro-independence slogans. The club’s leadership has also weighed in, with former president Joan Laporta openly supporting Catalan autonomy. This interplay between football and regional identity underscores the sport’s role as a battleground for political expression.
The 21st century has also witnessed a surge in player activism, with footballers using their platforms to address political and social issues. This marks a shift from earlier eras when athletes were often expected to "stick to sports."
One of the most prominent examples is the "Take a Knee" movement, inspired by American football but adopted sport worldwide. In 2020, following the murder of George Floyd, players across Europe began kneeling before matches to protest racial injustice. This gesture sparked both support and backlash, with some fans and politicians decrying it as politicizing sport. In England, Conservative MP Lee Anderson boycotted matches over the gesture, arguing it alienated traditional supporters. Yet players like Marcus Rashford persisted, expanding their activism beyond the pitch. Rashford’s 2020 campaign to extend free school meals in the UK forced a government U-turn, showcasing how footballers can use their platform for community benefit.
Finally, the commercialization of football in the 21st century has deepened its political dimensions. Club ownership by state-backed entities and billionaires has turned teams into instruments of economic and political strategy. Manchester City, owned by the Abu Dhabi United Group, and Paris Saint-Germain, backed by Qatar Sports Investments, are prime examples. These clubs’ lavish spending—enabled by oil wealth—has reshaped competitive landscapes while advancing their owners’ geopolitical goals. Critics argue this "sports washing" obscures human rights abuses and authoritarianism, as seen in Newcastle United’s 2021 takeover by Saudi Arabia’s Public Investment Fund. The backlash from fans and activists highlights the uneasy marriage of football’s commercial growth and political ethics.
Argentinian soldiers force spectators to leave the stadium before the start of the game during the 1978 World Cup finals.
Photo Credit: The Guardian