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Angels With Dirty Faces: The Footballing History of Argentina
Diego Maradona, Gabriel Batistuta, Juan Román Riquelme, Sergio Agüero, Lionel Messi ... Argentina is responsible for some of the greatest footballers on the planet. Their rich, volatile history is made up of both the sublime and the ruthlessly pragmatic.
Argentina is a nation obsessed with football, and Jonathan Wilson, having lived there on and off during the last decade, is ideally placed to chart the five phases of Argentinian football: the appropriation of the British game; the golden age of la nuestra, the exuberant style of playing that developed as Juan Perón led the country into isolation; a hardening into the brutal methods of anti-fútbol; the fusing of beauty and efficacy under César Luis Menotti; and the ludicrous (albeit underachieving) creative talent of recent times.
More than any other nation Argentina lives and breathes football, its theories and myths. The subject is fiercely debated on street corners and in cafes. It has even preoccupied the country's greatest writers and philosophers.
ANGELS WITH DIRTY FACES is the definitive history of a great footballing nation and its paradoxes.
Argentina is a nation obsessed with football, and Jonathan Wilson, having lived there on and off during the last decade, is ideally placed to chart the five phases of Argentinian football: the appropriation of the British game; the golden age of la nuestra, the exuberant style of playing that developed as Juan Perón led the country into isolation; a hardening into the brutal methods of anti-fútbol; the fusing of beauty and efficacy under César Luis Menotti; and the ludicrous (albeit underachieving) creative talent of recent times.
More than any other nation Argentina lives and breathes football, its theories and myths. The subject is fiercely debated on street corners and in cafes. It has even preoccupied the country's greatest writers and philosophers.
ANGELS WITH DIRTY FACES is the definitive history of a great footballing nation and its paradoxes.
559 pages, Hardcover
First published March 10, 2016
311 people are currently reading
2939 people want to read
About the author
Jonathan Wilson
88 books509 followersJonathan Wilson is a British sports journalist and author who writes for a number of publications including the Guardian, the Independent and Sports Illustrated. He also appears on the Guardian football podcast, Football Weekly.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 135 reviews
May 17, 2019
You know you’re in for a detailed account when the prologue goes into the history of Don Pedro de Mendoza setting off across the Atlantic from Cadiz in 1535. The Spaniard founded Buenos Aires in 1536 and called it Nuestra Senora Santa Maria del Buen Aire (Our Lady St. Mary of the Good Air).
Wilson says ‘I wanted to include the theory and place the sport in its social, economic and political context, and I wanted to include the people, the players and coaches whose lives are so remarkable that they seem to have fallen from a magic-realist novel, but I didn’t want to stint on the football, on the games and the goals that actually make us watch in the first place, on the culture that provides the currency in which so much of Argentinian life is transacted. But while this is primarily a history of football, so entwined are the political and socio-economic strands, so inextricably is football bound up with all public life, that this is also a book about Argentina’.
So, there you have it. This book could have gone one of two ways for me. An absolute struggle to get through like 0-0 draw where no team has anything to play for or a gem of a book that is all engrossing like a World Cup Final that is won 5-4 after extra time. I knew which one I was hoping for. Did I get it?
I tend to go off into a different land when some books go into political detail. You know the thing when you read 5 pages but have taken nothing in at all. This did not happen with this book. From the spawning of the game by the British in Argentina back in the 1860s to 18 teams becoming professional in 1931. Wilson provides short biographies of key players and those he meets in their later years.
The first World Cup I remember was the 1978 one in Argentina. The ticker tape final. I loved it but also remember all the fuss on the news about the clean-up of Argentina. The concrete wall hiding the shanty towns into Buenos Aires. The Junta making people disappear (8,960 at least) that spoke up against them. ‘It’s estimated as many as 500 babies were taken from dissident parents and adopted by military families.’ Last, but not least, that result against Peru.
Along with the World Cups there is, of course, Peron, Maradona, the Falklands, Messi and all those great Argentinian clubs like Boca, River Plate, Indipendiente (king of the cups), Racing, San Lorenzo (Pope Francis is a fan) and Estudiantes. It was actually reading about the club sides that did not quite hit the mark for me. Would have been different, I am sure, if I was more up on Argentinian club sides.
I was looking forward to getting to the Maradona shenanigans. This is not a Maradona biography but how can you not have a large section about him. Wilson does, and the memories come flooding back. YouTube videos really took a hit while I was reading this.
Verdict: Certainly not a 0-0 but not quite a 5-4. I enjoyed it. Be warned. This is not for the casual reader. You do need a love of football and all the craziness that comes with it. You get it all with a footballing history of Argentina. The book goes up to 2015.
Wilson says ‘I wanted to include the theory and place the sport in its social, economic and political context, and I wanted to include the people, the players and coaches whose lives are so remarkable that they seem to have fallen from a magic-realist novel, but I didn’t want to stint on the football, on the games and the goals that actually make us watch in the first place, on the culture that provides the currency in which so much of Argentinian life is transacted. But while this is primarily a history of football, so entwined are the political and socio-economic strands, so inextricably is football bound up with all public life, that this is also a book about Argentina’.
So, there you have it. This book could have gone one of two ways for me. An absolute struggle to get through like 0-0 draw where no team has anything to play for or a gem of a book that is all engrossing like a World Cup Final that is won 5-4 after extra time. I knew which one I was hoping for. Did I get it?
I tend to go off into a different land when some books go into political detail. You know the thing when you read 5 pages but have taken nothing in at all. This did not happen with this book. From the spawning of the game by the British in Argentina back in the 1860s to 18 teams becoming professional in 1931. Wilson provides short biographies of key players and those he meets in their later years.
The first World Cup I remember was the 1978 one in Argentina. The ticker tape final. I loved it but also remember all the fuss on the news about the clean-up of Argentina. The concrete wall hiding the shanty towns into Buenos Aires. The Junta making people disappear (8,960 at least) that spoke up against them. ‘It’s estimated as many as 500 babies were taken from dissident parents and adopted by military families.’ Last, but not least, that result against Peru.
Along with the World Cups there is, of course, Peron, Maradona, the Falklands, Messi and all those great Argentinian clubs like Boca, River Plate, Indipendiente (king of the cups), Racing, San Lorenzo (Pope Francis is a fan) and Estudiantes. It was actually reading about the club sides that did not quite hit the mark for me. Would have been different, I am sure, if I was more up on Argentinian club sides.
I was looking forward to getting to the Maradona shenanigans. This is not a Maradona biography but how can you not have a large section about him. Wilson does, and the memories come flooding back. YouTube videos really took a hit while I was reading this.
Verdict: Certainly not a 0-0 but not quite a 5-4. I enjoyed it. Be warned. This is not for the casual reader. You do need a love of football and all the craziness that comes with it. You get it all with a footballing history of Argentina. The book goes up to 2015.
February 11, 2017
It’s fair to say that Jonathan Wilson has been a key figure in the transformation undergone by British football writing over the past decade or so. The publication in 2008 of Inverting the Pyramid, his history of tactics, foreshadowed a boom in tactical analysis, and the rise in popularity of a more cerebral approach to understanding the game can be seen in the success of The Blizzard, the quarterly football magazine Wilson founded and continues to edit.
His latest book, Angels with Dirty Faces, traces the story of football in Argentina from its development and spread in the late 19th century to the present day, taking in the myriad instances of triumph, failure, glory and disgrace which have occurred along the way. Yet the book’s subtitle, ‘The Footballing History of Argentina’, reveals that the true scope of the book is even greater: Wilson is attempting to tell, at least to some degree, the history of Argentina through the lens of football.
While this might have seemed over-ambitious were he writing about any other country, Argentina has seen such an inter-mingling of football and politics that it would perhaps be impossible to fully tell the story of one without the other. And, as the early sections of the book make clear, football was integral to the early myth-making of a country still trying to form an identity having only gained independence in the 19th Century. Football was first imported to Argentina, as elsewhere, by British immigrants, and Wilson gives prominence to Glaswegian schoolteacher Alexander Watson Hutton in organising structured games which led to the formation of a league in 1891 (making it the oldest football league outside Britain). Yet, with the country’s population growing rapidly through immigration from Italy and Spain, by the early 20th Century football had established itself as the game of ‘the people’ rather than a reminder of home for British expats.
The strongest section of the book is the second, which covers the ‘Golden Age’ of Argentinian football from 1930-1958. Wilson brings to life a time in which ‘la nuestra’ (‘our way’, a uniquely Argentinian version of the game which focuses on individual skill and self-expression) flourished and fans flocked to see a seemingly endless chain of incredible homegrown talents. In particular, he draws attention to ‘La Maquina’ (the machine), the River Plate side of the forties whose forward quintet combined to create one of the all-time great attacking teams, and who have perhaps not received their due as a result of falling between World Cups and pre-dating televised football.
Having lived in Argentina sporadically, Wilson looks to strike a balance between enthusing about the legends of the national game and remaining sceptical of any unverified stories, keenly aware that the line between fact and myth is often hazy. Tales of wonder goals from the Golden Age, relayed to the author by octogenarian ex-pros in cafes, are often followed by footnotes explaining that his subsequent research suggested they may be apocryphal. His eagerness to gain the full context of the eras of the Argentinian game is also shown with regular digressions into the history of the country’s politics, economy and culture. Parallels are often drawn between the political direction of Argentina and the fate of its football teams: for instance, the coup d'état which overthrew Juan Perón in 1955 and subsequent spiral into chaos is shown to mirror the rapid shift in dominant footballing ideologies from the freewheeling positivity of ‘la nuestra’ to a culture of cynicism, defensiveness and violence in the sixties.
The story Wilson tells from that point onwards is broadly one of a conflict between those two tendencies within the Argentinian game. The World Cup triumph on home soil in 1978 is given careful treatment, as the recognition of the achievement of manager César Luis Menotti and his players is caveated with explanations of how the ruling junta may have tried to influence the tournament’s outcome, and the horrors perpetuated by the regime as thousands of citizens went missing, were imprisoned or killed.
In my view, the last three sections of the book are slightly weaker than what comes before, as they focus (perhaps inevitably) heavily on the stories of Maradona and Messi. Wilson does provide some insights into how the backgrounds and personal lives of these two very different characters have impacted how they play and understand the game, and contextualises Maradona as fitting perfectly into the Argentinian archetype of a ‘pibe’ (an urchin-like figure who overcomes an impoverished background thanks to skill and cunning). Nevertheless, it is difficult not to feel that Wilson is less enthused by this material, much of which will be familiar to modern readers and some of which, such as the tactical influence of Marcelo Bielsa, the author has covered extensively elsewhere. Later chapters occasionally tend to run into lists of opponents, results and goalscorers, and the stories provided by the domestic game inevitably lose some of their sheen as we enter a time when – as Wilson acknowledges – the Argentinian league features a much lower standard of play than the top European leagues due to any decent players leaving early in their careers.
Overall, though, Angels with Dirty Faces is a hugely enjoyable read – I raced through the 523 pages – and its broad scope never comes at the expense of depth. Wilson’s analysis of how Argentinian football developed is punctuated by humorous and unusual human interest stories, such as that of Imre Hirschl, the Hungarian butcher who somehow ended up leading River Plate to two league titles in the thirties, or of Aldo Pedro Poy, who keeps up an annual tradition of recreating the diving header he scored for Rosario Central in a semi-final in 1971. It is these stories which explain the ongoing fascination with the unique, flawed phenomenon that is Argentinian football, and it is these stories which will stay with me after reading this book.
His latest book, Angels with Dirty Faces, traces the story of football in Argentina from its development and spread in the late 19th century to the present day, taking in the myriad instances of triumph, failure, glory and disgrace which have occurred along the way. Yet the book’s subtitle, ‘The Footballing History of Argentina’, reveals that the true scope of the book is even greater: Wilson is attempting to tell, at least to some degree, the history of Argentina through the lens of football.
While this might have seemed over-ambitious were he writing about any other country, Argentina has seen such an inter-mingling of football and politics that it would perhaps be impossible to fully tell the story of one without the other. And, as the early sections of the book make clear, football was integral to the early myth-making of a country still trying to form an identity having only gained independence in the 19th Century. Football was first imported to Argentina, as elsewhere, by British immigrants, and Wilson gives prominence to Glaswegian schoolteacher Alexander Watson Hutton in organising structured games which led to the formation of a league in 1891 (making it the oldest football league outside Britain). Yet, with the country’s population growing rapidly through immigration from Italy and Spain, by the early 20th Century football had established itself as the game of ‘the people’ rather than a reminder of home for British expats.
The strongest section of the book is the second, which covers the ‘Golden Age’ of Argentinian football from 1930-1958. Wilson brings to life a time in which ‘la nuestra’ (‘our way’, a uniquely Argentinian version of the game which focuses on individual skill and self-expression) flourished and fans flocked to see a seemingly endless chain of incredible homegrown talents. In particular, he draws attention to ‘La Maquina’ (the machine), the River Plate side of the forties whose forward quintet combined to create one of the all-time great attacking teams, and who have perhaps not received their due as a result of falling between World Cups and pre-dating televised football.
Having lived in Argentina sporadically, Wilson looks to strike a balance between enthusing about the legends of the national game and remaining sceptical of any unverified stories, keenly aware that the line between fact and myth is often hazy. Tales of wonder goals from the Golden Age, relayed to the author by octogenarian ex-pros in cafes, are often followed by footnotes explaining that his subsequent research suggested they may be apocryphal. His eagerness to gain the full context of the eras of the Argentinian game is also shown with regular digressions into the history of the country’s politics, economy and culture. Parallels are often drawn between the political direction of Argentina and the fate of its football teams: for instance, the coup d'état which overthrew Juan Perón in 1955 and subsequent spiral into chaos is shown to mirror the rapid shift in dominant footballing ideologies from the freewheeling positivity of ‘la nuestra’ to a culture of cynicism, defensiveness and violence in the sixties.
The story Wilson tells from that point onwards is broadly one of a conflict between those two tendencies within the Argentinian game. The World Cup triumph on home soil in 1978 is given careful treatment, as the recognition of the achievement of manager César Luis Menotti and his players is caveated with explanations of how the ruling junta may have tried to influence the tournament’s outcome, and the horrors perpetuated by the regime as thousands of citizens went missing, were imprisoned or killed.
In my view, the last three sections of the book are slightly weaker than what comes before, as they focus (perhaps inevitably) heavily on the stories of Maradona and Messi. Wilson does provide some insights into how the backgrounds and personal lives of these two very different characters have impacted how they play and understand the game, and contextualises Maradona as fitting perfectly into the Argentinian archetype of a ‘pibe’ (an urchin-like figure who overcomes an impoverished background thanks to skill and cunning). Nevertheless, it is difficult not to feel that Wilson is less enthused by this material, much of which will be familiar to modern readers and some of which, such as the tactical influence of Marcelo Bielsa, the author has covered extensively elsewhere. Later chapters occasionally tend to run into lists of opponents, results and goalscorers, and the stories provided by the domestic game inevitably lose some of their sheen as we enter a time when – as Wilson acknowledges – the Argentinian league features a much lower standard of play than the top European leagues due to any decent players leaving early in their careers.
Overall, though, Angels with Dirty Faces is a hugely enjoyable read – I raced through the 523 pages – and its broad scope never comes at the expense of depth. Wilson’s analysis of how Argentinian football developed is punctuated by humorous and unusual human interest stories, such as that of Imre Hirschl, the Hungarian butcher who somehow ended up leading River Plate to two league titles in the thirties, or of Aldo Pedro Poy, who keeps up an annual tradition of recreating the diving header he scored for Rosario Central in a semi-final in 1971. It is these stories which explain the ongoing fascination with the unique, flawed phenomenon that is Argentinian football, and it is these stories which will stay with me after reading this book.
December 20, 2018
Detailed book looking at social political and footballing history from the origins of anglo to modern day
December 31, 2020
An entertaining and thorough - if at times bloated - history of Argentinian football, blighted at times by Wilson’s insufferable I’m-smarter-than-you radical-centrist political analysis that patronises the entire populace of the country he’s documenting. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand what inspired him to write a book about a country he so obviously despises.
December 26, 2020
Took me a year to finish this, partly because it’s big and I am lazy, but also partly because there’s a lot of stuff to digest in the book that I wasn’t totally into. The soccer bits (that is, the game action and such) are actually dullest parts of it. This, of course, is likely due to my overall ignorance of Argentinian soccer aside from Diego Maradona and Lionel Messi, so not exactly the book’s fault. But I’m way more into stuff about their lives (more Maradona mafia stories please). Actually the most interesting stuff to me are the parts where sport and politics intersect — for example, the way how the right wing military junta attempted to use the national team to advance political propaganda and distract citizens from people the people they were disappearing. This is a book that begins in 1535 with Spanish conquistadores, so sometimes a whole chapter on how San Lorenzo beat some Bolivian team in the Copa Libertadores can feel a little trite. Again, not necessarily the book’s fault, but it’s not perfect.
November 25, 2016
Wilson writes as well or better than anyone about how technical choices by soccer players turn into narrative, myth, and ideology. He is at his absolute best on the pausa, the creative midfielder's moment of vision before the decisive throughball; the pibe, the amoral urchin who is the archetypal Argentinian forward; and how both creative and regimented soccer philosophies became politically freighted under various national regimes. Unlike Inverting the Pyramid, which has a dialectical structure and an arc described right in its title, this history is relatively shapeless. It is still full of incident and interest, especially for readers like me, who know only the barest outline of the South American game.
December 14, 2022
La historia del fútbol no se puede entender sin Argentina. De la misma manera, la historia de Argentina no se puede entender sin el fútbol.
Argentina, entonces, es patrimonio del fútbol. En “Ángeles con Caras Sucias”, Jonathan Wilson hace una carta de amor al deporte escribiendo la historia del fútbol argentino en toda su complejidad. Los factores sociopolíticos que se entretejen con el balompie, la tumultuosa vida de sus brillantes atletas, el simbolismo de sus clubes más populares y las discusiones técnicas o filosóficas que construyen una de las tradiciones futbolísticas más importantes del mundo.
Desde aquellos aficionados del Rosario Central que recrean el gol de palomita de Poy cada año hasta los excesos de Diego Armando Maradona y la tensión entre el pragmatismo de Bilardo con la estética de Menotti, que a su vez se contrapone con la corrupta dictadura de Videla, Wilson demuestra la riqueza temática que conlleva hablar de fútbol. El panorama cultural es tan amplio que requiere recapitular la historia, hablar de literatura, de tácticas, de sociología, de globalización, de economía, de atletismo y de identidad.
No cabe duda de que, como bien dice la portada del libro, “quien ama el fútbol ama a Argentina”. En esta Copa del Mundo de Catar 2022 en el que el fútbol se ha homogeneizado hasta el grado en el que las distinciones tácticas son prácticamente inexistentes y en una ola de anti-argentinismo los aficionados pretenden que se tiene que reaccionar con la compostura de los equipos ingleses del Siglo XIX, es fresco ver a una selección albiceleste que se destaque por sus individualidades, por su picardía y por su singular sentido de emoción. Leyendo a Wilson, es posible darse cuenta porque la celebración de un Messi que evoca a Riquelme enfrente de Louis Van Gaal reivindica toda una tradición futbolística.
Desde México, aunque dolorosamente nos hayan ganado en la fase de grupos, externo mi apoyo en la final a una Selección Argentina que encarna el siglo de tradición relatado en “Ángeles con Cara Sucia”. Muchacho’, ahora no’ volvimo a ilusionar...
Argentina, entonces, es patrimonio del fútbol. En “Ángeles con Caras Sucias”, Jonathan Wilson hace una carta de amor al deporte escribiendo la historia del fútbol argentino en toda su complejidad. Los factores sociopolíticos que se entretejen con el balompie, la tumultuosa vida de sus brillantes atletas, el simbolismo de sus clubes más populares y las discusiones técnicas o filosóficas que construyen una de las tradiciones futbolísticas más importantes del mundo.
Desde aquellos aficionados del Rosario Central que recrean el gol de palomita de Poy cada año hasta los excesos de Diego Armando Maradona y la tensión entre el pragmatismo de Bilardo con la estética de Menotti, que a su vez se contrapone con la corrupta dictadura de Videla, Wilson demuestra la riqueza temática que conlleva hablar de fútbol. El panorama cultural es tan amplio que requiere recapitular la historia, hablar de literatura, de tácticas, de sociología, de globalización, de economía, de atletismo y de identidad.
No cabe duda de que, como bien dice la portada del libro, “quien ama el fútbol ama a Argentina”. En esta Copa del Mundo de Catar 2022 en el que el fútbol se ha homogeneizado hasta el grado en el que las distinciones tácticas son prácticamente inexistentes y en una ola de anti-argentinismo los aficionados pretenden que se tiene que reaccionar con la compostura de los equipos ingleses del Siglo XIX, es fresco ver a una selección albiceleste que se destaque por sus individualidades, por su picardía y por su singular sentido de emoción. Leyendo a Wilson, es posible darse cuenta porque la celebración de un Messi que evoca a Riquelme enfrente de Louis Van Gaal reivindica toda una tradición futbolística.
Desde México, aunque dolorosamente nos hayan ganado en la fase de grupos, externo mi apoyo en la final a una Selección Argentina que encarna el siglo de tradición relatado en “Ángeles con Cara Sucia”. Muchacho’, ahora no’ volvimo a ilusionar...
October 17, 2025
As an Argentine and huge fan of the sport, it pains me to say this, but this book wasn’t very good. It was like eating a chocolate chip sawdust cookie: plenty of British-level bland filler, with the occasional nugget of sweetness.
The first few chapters were enlightening, as Wilson reconstructs the early history of the Argentine league and our trademark style of play. It was also interesting to read about the military junta and how they used the game to stay in power and push their agenda. Chocolate chips.
But do I really need to know what happened in the second half of the 1953 Nacional between Estudiantes and Newell’s? Like, pages upon pages of it? Or how many beers and sandwiches Santiago Bernazza consumed before each match? Sawdust.
I stuck with it out of national pride and morbid curiosity. Now I know more about mid-century Argentine midfield formations than my own cousins. Sawdust everywhere.
The first few chapters were enlightening, as Wilson reconstructs the early history of the Argentine league and our trademark style of play. It was also interesting to read about the military junta and how they used the game to stay in power and push their agenda. Chocolate chips.
But do I really need to know what happened in the second half of the 1953 Nacional between Estudiantes and Newell’s? Like, pages upon pages of it? Or how many beers and sandwiches Santiago Bernazza consumed before each match? Sawdust.
I stuck with it out of national pride and morbid curiosity. Now I know more about mid-century Argentine midfield formations than my own cousins. Sawdust everywhere.
December 28, 2019
Fascinating overview of the football history and surrounding socio-political background of Argentina. From the pioneering Scotsman, Alexander Watson Hutton, who gets the ball rolling in this football-obsessed land through to the totemic ‘pibe’ figures of Diego and Leo, an enriching and educational read. The early chapters are particularly interesting in setting the picture for the foundations of the country identity.
May 3, 2021
Top read! Quite long but worth it.
November 2, 2022
Needs some trimming. Cut out the play by play of Copa Libertadores and other tournaments from the last century, leave in only the controversies, politics, Diego Armando Maradonna and Messi. Speaking of which, folks, you heard it here first: The 2022 World Cup Winners will be Argentina. A triumph for all the sweat shop workers and those who have had their human rights violated, or given their lives in preparation for this spectacle.
September 4, 2016
Typical Wilson - detailed, well researched, comprehensive...
November 20, 2018
One of the great footballing nations, lets hope Lionel messi wins something big before he retires, for all the pleasure he as given football fans during the past decade. Great book.
April 26, 2020
Sometimes a team is less than the sum of its parts. The beautiful game conjures up moments of delicious individual effort, even though those are always rare and brief in their presence – what eventually sustains is the team.
And Argentina, since the start of its football journey in a delayed match played between 22 players of British origin, has struggled with identity – especially when it came to its European origins. Like a rebellious kid making art in their room, the country battled football hooliganism, political maneuvering and a temperamental individuality seeped into its game plan to emerge with fragments of promise that didn’t always deliver.
Starting from the late 19th century to the present day, Jonathan Wilson charts a country as it finds a voice in every sphere of its existence. From the first time Jose Alcosta shakes a football figure’s hand to mix politics and football, to campaigns being run on the strength of sporting accomplishments – Argentina traverses a philosophical landscape.
Every story begins somewhere. And for this one, it begins with Watson Hutton circa 1880, and continues on Motti then Maradona then Messi. The greatest intrigue lies at the heart of the country, as you come to understand not just the frailties and triumphs of the national team – but also of the fragmented club structure and the battles of amateurism and professionalism.
There has always been a love/hate relationship for me when it comes to players from this region – coloured by my repulsion of Barcelona with the figurehead of Messi as they denied my club two Champions League titles in early 21st century. But this is an intriguing read if only to see that Argentina has always been that force – a bringer of joy and sorrow at equal opportunity.
It wasn’t meant to be like this.
Difficult as it is to pit passionate countries against each other, Argentina would hold up its own in beautiful godhood. Footballers emerged as royalty from the country, and then had to abandon the same for the luxuries and temptations of Europe.
The history of Argentinian football comes with numerous false dawns, and one glorious period in which, led by a diminutive and divisive genius, they were the conquerors of the World.
Alas, such is brief when it comes to the overall landscape of unfulfilled dreams. The almost laughable repulsion to be exposed on the international stage in the 40s and 50s before undergoing a shameful exit in Sweden on their return before Menotti finally oversaw glory with the 70s team and was succeeded as a herald by Maradona before returning to the status quo in the 90s.
Argentina in short has always had excellent players but never an excellent team – a conundrum that coaches and managers from the entire expanse of their history have been unable to solve.
On a club level, the hooliganism continues in its modern avatar and clubs, like South America in general, always become great manufacturers of talent but never it’s polishers.
Wilson ends on a mournful note in reflection of how all Argentina has in its hold is promise.
And nothing more.
And Argentina, since the start of its football journey in a delayed match played between 22 players of British origin, has struggled with identity – especially when it came to its European origins. Like a rebellious kid making art in their room, the country battled football hooliganism, political maneuvering and a temperamental individuality seeped into its game plan to emerge with fragments of promise that didn’t always deliver.
Starting from the late 19th century to the present day, Jonathan Wilson charts a country as it finds a voice in every sphere of its existence. From the first time Jose Alcosta shakes a football figure’s hand to mix politics and football, to campaigns being run on the strength of sporting accomplishments – Argentina traverses a philosophical landscape.
Every story begins somewhere. And for this one, it begins with Watson Hutton circa 1880, and continues on Motti then Maradona then Messi. The greatest intrigue lies at the heart of the country, as you come to understand not just the frailties and triumphs of the national team – but also of the fragmented club structure and the battles of amateurism and professionalism.
There has always been a love/hate relationship for me when it comes to players from this region – coloured by my repulsion of Barcelona with the figurehead of Messi as they denied my club two Champions League titles in early 21st century. But this is an intriguing read if only to see that Argentina has always been that force – a bringer of joy and sorrow at equal opportunity.
It wasn’t meant to be like this.
Difficult as it is to pit passionate countries against each other, Argentina would hold up its own in beautiful godhood. Footballers emerged as royalty from the country, and then had to abandon the same for the luxuries and temptations of Europe.
The history of Argentinian football comes with numerous false dawns, and one glorious period in which, led by a diminutive and divisive genius, they were the conquerors of the World.
Alas, such is brief when it comes to the overall landscape of unfulfilled dreams. The almost laughable repulsion to be exposed on the international stage in the 40s and 50s before undergoing a shameful exit in Sweden on their return before Menotti finally oversaw glory with the 70s team and was succeeded as a herald by Maradona before returning to the status quo in the 90s.
Argentina in short has always had excellent players but never an excellent team – a conundrum that coaches and managers from the entire expanse of their history have been unable to solve.
On a club level, the hooliganism continues in its modern avatar and clubs, like South America in general, always become great manufacturers of talent but never it’s polishers.
Wilson ends on a mournful note in reflection of how all Argentina has in its hold is promise.
And nothing more.
February 9, 2025
3.75 ⭐
This book is a classic Jonathan Wilson tome - impeccably researched, well-framed and richly detailed (sometimes to the point of tedium).
As I travelled through Argentina, it was a great accompaniment to my cultural and historical education. Wilson tells not just the story of Argentinian football but also its cultural, economic and political history. How could he not when these things are so inextricably interwoven in el Pais de Plata?
As always with Wilson, the thing that sticks out most with this book is its comprehensiveness. From the very first days of the Argentinian league in the early 1900s right up until the Messi-led victory of the World Cup in 2022, the book effectively covers Argentinian domestic and international football with rich and (mostly) interesting details. The framing of this narrative within the philosophical debate surrounding the Argentinian soul is particularly interesting, as is its artful integration with Argentinian political history.
The structure of the book is chronological, but due to the scope, it becomes perhaps slightly too episodic at times. We jump between the national and the domestic leagues, with intermittent interludes such as interviews with forgotten greats or underdog-winning championship sides that, whilst interesting, detract from the cogency of the overall narrative. His greatest strength of research, as ever, is his greatest weakness.
This lack of structural clarity seeps into the voice of the book, which interrupts the generally detached, more impersonal third-person description with Wilson's first-person reflections on interviews and his perambulations through Buenos Aires. This is a slightly confusing choice and could have been more clearly signposted or sustained. The other problem I found with the narrative voice arises more in the context of the macro-level, thematic analysis of Argentinian culture that Wilson constructs. At times, it teeters on the edge of European supremacism (for example, when discussing the Falklands/Malvinas). This is a risk I hope Wilson was aware of writing a book about Argentinian football as a British man. Perhaps a slightly greater deference to Argentinian sources or voices would have been useful, especially when documenting the more general history of the country.
Overall, however, I liked it. It is by no means a page-turner - two months for me to finish it suggests that this is the case, but it is interesting, very well-researched, and was a great accompaniment to my adventure through Argentina.
Los angeles con caras sucias son los dioses de este pais (obvio). Ahora, los conozco. Por eso, conozco el pais mucho mejor queue antes.
This book is a classic Jonathan Wilson tome - impeccably researched, well-framed and richly detailed (sometimes to the point of tedium).
As I travelled through Argentina, it was a great accompaniment to my cultural and historical education. Wilson tells not just the story of Argentinian football but also its cultural, economic and political history. How could he not when these things are so inextricably interwoven in el Pais de Plata?
As always with Wilson, the thing that sticks out most with this book is its comprehensiveness. From the very first days of the Argentinian league in the early 1900s right up until the Messi-led victory of the World Cup in 2022, the book effectively covers Argentinian domestic and international football with rich and (mostly) interesting details. The framing of this narrative within the philosophical debate surrounding the Argentinian soul is particularly interesting, as is its artful integration with Argentinian political history.
The structure of the book is chronological, but due to the scope, it becomes perhaps slightly too episodic at times. We jump between the national and the domestic leagues, with intermittent interludes such as interviews with forgotten greats or underdog-winning championship sides that, whilst interesting, detract from the cogency of the overall narrative. His greatest strength of research, as ever, is his greatest weakness.
This lack of structural clarity seeps into the voice of the book, which interrupts the generally detached, more impersonal third-person description with Wilson's first-person reflections on interviews and his perambulations through Buenos Aires. This is a slightly confusing choice and could have been more clearly signposted or sustained. The other problem I found with the narrative voice arises more in the context of the macro-level, thematic analysis of Argentinian culture that Wilson constructs. At times, it teeters on the edge of European supremacism (for example, when discussing the Falklands/Malvinas). This is a risk I hope Wilson was aware of writing a book about Argentinian football as a British man. Perhaps a slightly greater deference to Argentinian sources or voices would have been useful, especially when documenting the more general history of the country.
Overall, however, I liked it. It is by no means a page-turner - two months for me to finish it suggests that this is the case, but it is interesting, very well-researched, and was a great accompaniment to my adventure through Argentina.
Los angeles con caras sucias son los dioses de este pais (obvio). Ahora, los conozco. Por eso, conozco el pais mucho mejor queue antes.
February 18, 2021
A great book. The history and politics of Argentina that is woven into chapters really gives you a feel for the country. Visiting the grounds and teams mentioned will now forever be on my bucket list.
September 10, 2021
My abiding memories of the World Cup are waiting to see what Brazil sides and what Argentina sides were going to turn, because I started watching the World Cup this meant players you might have heard of but rarely if ever got the chance to see. The ultimate realization of this was was the 1978 World Cup which now seems horribly compromised by politics and featured a team, which I now find out was mediocre by the standards of World Cup winning sides but at the time Kempes and Luque and Ardiles seemed mesmorizing. Perhaps it was all that paper. (In 1982 Brazil of course brought football the likes if which we might never see again not least because they went and got themselves knocked out). Brazil of course have now turned into a sort of rival for Barcelona as a global franchise, something for people who don't always watch a lot of football. But as for Argentina, well there has been - in the nicest possible way - something of the mongrel in Argentina, something that even the marketing men can't make nice. But there is a now a familiarity with the players who are nearly all playing in Europe, much to the detriment of the domestic scene back home. The downsides to globalization are a key theme of the last part of the book, and a bit less mystery to the world cup is only part of the price we pay.
Jonathan Wilson, doyen of the new football writing, has written an impressive history of Argentinian football which I greatly enjoyed. Its strong on social and political context. Very readable lots of short chapters. Books which per force make reference to lots of different players can be heavy going, but here the emphasis on contrasts in style and philosophy get over that, especially the eternal debate - in various forms between -pragmatism and romanticism. Maradona - the dribbler, the boy from the streets is at its heart. An impossible talent, and an equally impossible person. Makes a fabulous contrast Messi. We know about some (at least) of Maradona's off the pitch misdeeds. Messi's major misdemeanour revolved around image rights and tax evasion...what has the game come to?
Jonathan Wilson, doyen of the new football writing, has written an impressive history of Argentinian football which I greatly enjoyed. Its strong on social and political context. Very readable lots of short chapters. Books which per force make reference to lots of different players can be heavy going, but here the emphasis on contrasts in style and philosophy get over that, especially the eternal debate - in various forms between -pragmatism and romanticism. Maradona - the dribbler, the boy from the streets is at its heart. An impossible talent, and an equally impossible person. Makes a fabulous contrast Messi. We know about some (at least) of Maradona's off the pitch misdeeds. Messi's major misdemeanour revolved around image rights and tax evasion...what has the game come to?
November 30, 2025
This book is not for everyone. But if you like soccer, political/economic history, and macroeconomics, then it might be the perfect book for you. Thoroughly researched, well written, and highly entertaining.
April 22, 2025
3.5 rounded up (generous) (took me 3 months!)
July 22, 2019
This is an excellent book, which offers a potted social and political history of Argentina as well as of its football. As the title suggests, Argentinian football has often been characterised by the spirit of the ‘Pibe’, which is a picaresque attitude to life (exemplified by a certain player above all).
This book offers a great deal of insight into the development of Argentinian domestic football, which was originally started off by English and Italians, as well as that of the national side. For my taste, the domestic stuff was a little overdetailed, with too many descriptions of obscure games/players that held little meaning for me, although the excellent research was evident. This all builds up a great picture of the footballing culture, however, as one that has always been riven by the desire to win by romantic individualist skills (the gambeta dribbling tradition) against the fear of losing and humiliation (especially by organised European teams), as particularly shown by the national side itself.
The author traces the early disappointment of losing the first 1930 world cup final through to a humiliating defeat in the 1958 World Cup, at which point the national team decided to forego the traditional flair-based individual game (‘la nuestra’) for a more defensive and muscular game, one which was often called ‘anti-futbol’ (and essentially based on the Italian defensive style of the 60s). This style was utilised in the 1966 world cup and came up against England in the quarter-finals, when, after a bad-tempered match, their captain Antonio Rattin was sent off, and refused to go, and the team were called ‘animals’ by Sir Alf Ramsey – the author points out that it was not even clear what Rattin had done, and that England were hardly blameless themselves. This was the first of many tough matches against England in major tournaments, with the most famous being the 1986 World Cup match, just after the Falklands War, which Diego Maradona won single-handedly (literally), proving himself to be the ultimate ‘Pibe’ – aside from punching the ball in (a ball which Shilton should have got to, the author notes), he also scored the greatest individual goal in world cup history. Maradona was the personification of the Pibe tradition, which was almost designed for him, the author notes - a poor boy, touched with genius, but fatally flawed. The book spends a fair but of time on the decline and fall of Diego, but rather less on the other great Argentinian genius, Lionel Messi. Messi is the other side of the coin, having left Argentina at a young age to play with FC Barcelona and never returning, except to play for the national team, with whom he has never shone in the way Maradona did. He is, many Argentinians say, a Catalan at heart – brilliant and a teamplayer, but not a true Pibe and not adored like Diego was.
Some of the best parts of the book are about the extraordinary World Cup of 1978 in which Luis Mennotti’s flowing team, led by Mario Kempes and his hair, won the ultimate prize at home against a backdrop of military dictatorship and violence. Mennotti’s management marked a return to the la nuestra style, and he himself was a liberal romantic, opposed to the dictadura. My recollection of that tournament was, above all, the teams taking to the pitch in a blizzard of paper confetti thrown by the fans from above, and of Kempes barrelling through the Dutch defence in the final to score across this paper carpet. This was perhaps an even greater achievement than the 1986 victory, given the huge pressure (Menotti chain smoked throughout the whole of every match, famously).
Wilson is an excellent football writer and seems to understand the politics of this extremely polarised country very well. I would have liked more on the history of the bizarre phenomenon of the ‘barras bravas’ – the hooligan gangs that intimidate and extort money from domestic football clubs in Argentina, acting more like a mafia than the brutish hooligans of English tradition. England is a football-loving country, for sure, but Argentina is truly mad for the game and this book exposes just how deep that passions runs – this can lead to extreme violence at times, both on and off the pitch, but also massive over-achievement (two world cups and 5 finals in all) – and at least three of the greatest players of all time (we must include Alfredo Di Stefano). The book ends with a lament for the fact that nearly all the good, not just the great, Argentinian players now play abroad and the domestic league is a mediocre affair, played in poor stadia, mirroring the real economy’s decline and dependence on exports.
This book offers a great deal of insight into the development of Argentinian domestic football, which was originally started off by English and Italians, as well as that of the national side. For my taste, the domestic stuff was a little overdetailed, with too many descriptions of obscure games/players that held little meaning for me, although the excellent research was evident. This all builds up a great picture of the footballing culture, however, as one that has always been riven by the desire to win by romantic individualist skills (the gambeta dribbling tradition) against the fear of losing and humiliation (especially by organised European teams), as particularly shown by the national side itself.
The author traces the early disappointment of losing the first 1930 world cup final through to a humiliating defeat in the 1958 World Cup, at which point the national team decided to forego the traditional flair-based individual game (‘la nuestra’) for a more defensive and muscular game, one which was often called ‘anti-futbol’ (and essentially based on the Italian defensive style of the 60s). This style was utilised in the 1966 world cup and came up against England in the quarter-finals, when, after a bad-tempered match, their captain Antonio Rattin was sent off, and refused to go, and the team were called ‘animals’ by Sir Alf Ramsey – the author points out that it was not even clear what Rattin had done, and that England were hardly blameless themselves. This was the first of many tough matches against England in major tournaments, with the most famous being the 1986 World Cup match, just after the Falklands War, which Diego Maradona won single-handedly (literally), proving himself to be the ultimate ‘Pibe’ – aside from punching the ball in (a ball which Shilton should have got to, the author notes), he also scored the greatest individual goal in world cup history. Maradona was the personification of the Pibe tradition, which was almost designed for him, the author notes - a poor boy, touched with genius, but fatally flawed. The book spends a fair but of time on the decline and fall of Diego, but rather less on the other great Argentinian genius, Lionel Messi. Messi is the other side of the coin, having left Argentina at a young age to play with FC Barcelona and never returning, except to play for the national team, with whom he has never shone in the way Maradona did. He is, many Argentinians say, a Catalan at heart – brilliant and a teamplayer, but not a true Pibe and not adored like Diego was.
Some of the best parts of the book are about the extraordinary World Cup of 1978 in which Luis Mennotti’s flowing team, led by Mario Kempes and his hair, won the ultimate prize at home against a backdrop of military dictatorship and violence. Mennotti’s management marked a return to the la nuestra style, and he himself was a liberal romantic, opposed to the dictadura. My recollection of that tournament was, above all, the teams taking to the pitch in a blizzard of paper confetti thrown by the fans from above, and of Kempes barrelling through the Dutch defence in the final to score across this paper carpet. This was perhaps an even greater achievement than the 1986 victory, given the huge pressure (Menotti chain smoked throughout the whole of every match, famously).
Wilson is an excellent football writer and seems to understand the politics of this extremely polarised country very well. I would have liked more on the history of the bizarre phenomenon of the ‘barras bravas’ – the hooligan gangs that intimidate and extort money from domestic football clubs in Argentina, acting more like a mafia than the brutish hooligans of English tradition. England is a football-loving country, for sure, but Argentina is truly mad for the game and this book exposes just how deep that passions runs – this can lead to extreme violence at times, both on and off the pitch, but also massive over-achievement (two world cups and 5 finals in all) – and at least three of the greatest players of all time (we must include Alfredo Di Stefano). The book ends with a lament for the fact that nearly all the good, not just the great, Argentinian players now play abroad and the domestic league is a mediocre affair, played in poor stadia, mirroring the real economy’s decline and dependence on exports.
March 22, 2024
4.5 ⭐️’s
This has to be the most comprehensive book of Argentine footballing history out there. It was wonderful to recall my own knowledge of Argentine history and identity and learn how they are both completely intertwined with football. Wilson points out how distinctly Argentine traditions like tango and ‘Martín Fierro’/gaucho culture are entrenched in the footballing style and evolution of Argentina, a country with an unfortunately fraught history full of corruption, disillusionment, and economic turmoil, where “when the present is such a disappointment, there is always the past” (xv).
The book follows the chronological footballing history of Argentina, and does an excellent job at summarizing the historically significant events and political states of the times — Wilson summarized Eva Perón’s entire life in less than a page! — without sacrificing necessary details. He explores how football turned into a political crutch of sorts through the Proceso de Reorganización Nacional and the different eras of hyperinflation and economic turmoil. He also highlights Argentina’s two most internationally acclaimed players, Maradona and Messi, which I always love to read. Given my somewhat relevant football career…where I played and reffed in middle school…learning about football style and strategy was super interesting such as ‘la nuestra’ and ‘gambeta,’ though I can see how the book would be a difficult read for those who are unfamiliar/uninterested in the jargon. I’m docking off half a star because it sometimes felt like I was getting lost in what felt like unnecessary details of insignificant games.
Wilson concludes with this sentiment:
“Soccer is another Argentinian dream that has slipped away. For Argentinians to see the best their country can produce, they must look either to the past or abroad. Argentinian soccer has become something that is played elsewhere” (378).
This book goes up till 2015, so given the epic FIFA World Cup 2022 and how it altered both Argentina and Messi’s global dominance in the footballing world, I wonder if Wilson would alter this statement to be less harsh. Regardless of the state of Argentina’s economy or government, it seemed as if football united Argentina, once again.
This has to be the most comprehensive book of Argentine footballing history out there. It was wonderful to recall my own knowledge of Argentine history and identity and learn how they are both completely intertwined with football. Wilson points out how distinctly Argentine traditions like tango and ‘Martín Fierro’/gaucho culture are entrenched in the footballing style and evolution of Argentina, a country with an unfortunately fraught history full of corruption, disillusionment, and economic turmoil, where “when the present is such a disappointment, there is always the past” (xv).
The book follows the chronological footballing history of Argentina, and does an excellent job at summarizing the historically significant events and political states of the times — Wilson summarized Eva Perón’s entire life in less than a page! — without sacrificing necessary details. He explores how football turned into a political crutch of sorts through the Proceso de Reorganización Nacional and the different eras of hyperinflation and economic turmoil. He also highlights Argentina’s two most internationally acclaimed players, Maradona and Messi, which I always love to read. Given my somewhat relevant football career…where I played and reffed in middle school…learning about football style and strategy was super interesting such as ‘la nuestra’ and ‘gambeta,’ though I can see how the book would be a difficult read for those who are unfamiliar/uninterested in the jargon. I’m docking off half a star because it sometimes felt like I was getting lost in what felt like unnecessary details of insignificant games.
Wilson concludes with this sentiment:
“Soccer is another Argentinian dream that has slipped away. For Argentinians to see the best their country can produce, they must look either to the past or abroad. Argentinian soccer has become something that is played elsewhere” (378).
This book goes up till 2015, so given the epic FIFA World Cup 2022 and how it altered both Argentina and Messi’s global dominance in the footballing world, I wonder if Wilson would alter this statement to be less harsh. Regardless of the state of Argentina’s economy or government, it seemed as if football united Argentina, once again.
March 6, 2020
Napisać sześciuset stronicową książkę na, było nie było hermetyczny, temat jakim jest historia piłki nożnej w obcym kraju, w taki sposób aby czytelnik podczas lektury nie umarł z nudów, a wręcz dał się wessać w opowieść, to nie lada wyczyn. Całe szczęście Jonathan Wilson okazał się w tym temacie profesorem, a jego aniołowie mogą posłużyć za podręcznik.
Strasznie bałem się, że książka będzie nudnym zbiorem faktów i statystyk, wzbogaconych notkami biograficznymi zawodników i trenerów rodem z Wikipedii, a oryginalny tytuł i ciekawa okładka okażą się tylko marketingowym wabikiem na frajerów. Wilson napisał jednak książkę nie tyle o samej piłce nożnej, co o umęczonym kraju, dla którego ten sport jest częścią tożsamości narodowej, tak jak dla Polaka Biedronka i pierogi.
Nie chodzi też o to, że w Aniołach nie ma suchych faktów i statystyk, bo są, ale książka jest na tyle niejednorodna w treści, że zanim czytelnik zdąży przysnąć, Wilson już opowiada o czymś innym. Autor podzielił książkę chronologicznie na części, części zaś na rozdziały. Każda część zaczyna się od wprowadzenia w sytuację ogólną kraju (gospodarka, polityka i tak dalej), co było niezwykle interesujące i w sumie niezbędne do zrozumienia jak ważną częścią życia Argentyńczyka jest piłka nożna i dlaczego (młody kraj nie miał kiedy wyhodować innych mitów i bohaterów narodowych).
Na koniec chciałbym przestrzec osoby, które chcą przeczytać książkę, ale nic a nic nie interesują się kopaną - pomimo ciekawej struktury i lekkiego pióra Jonathana Wilsona, Aniołowie o brudnych twarzach, to nadal książka o piłce nożnej i piłkarzach i jeśli interesujecie się Argentyną jako taką, to radziłbym sięgnąć po jakieś bardziej ogólne opracowanie, natomiast fani sportu po piłkarską historię mogą sięgnąć bez żadnych obaw.
Strasznie bałem się, że książka będzie nudnym zbiorem faktów i statystyk, wzbogaconych notkami biograficznymi zawodników i trenerów rodem z Wikipedii, a oryginalny tytuł i ciekawa okładka okażą się tylko marketingowym wabikiem na frajerów. Wilson napisał jednak książkę nie tyle o samej piłce nożnej, co o umęczonym kraju, dla którego ten sport jest częścią tożsamości narodowej, tak jak dla Polaka Biedronka i pierogi.
Nie chodzi też o to, że w Aniołach nie ma suchych faktów i statystyk, bo są, ale książka jest na tyle niejednorodna w treści, że zanim czytelnik zdąży przysnąć, Wilson już opowiada o czymś innym. Autor podzielił książkę chronologicznie na części, części zaś na rozdziały. Każda część zaczyna się od wprowadzenia w sytuację ogólną kraju (gospodarka, polityka i tak dalej), co było niezwykle interesujące i w sumie niezbędne do zrozumienia jak ważną częścią życia Argentyńczyka jest piłka nożna i dlaczego (młody kraj nie miał kiedy wyhodować innych mitów i bohaterów narodowych).
Na koniec chciałbym przestrzec osoby, które chcą przeczytać książkę, ale nic a nic nie interesują się kopaną - pomimo ciekawej struktury i lekkiego pióra Jonathana Wilsona, Aniołowie o brudnych twarzach, to nadal książka o piłce nożnej i piłkarzach i jeśli interesujecie się Argentyną jako taką, to radziłbym sięgnąć po jakieś bardziej ogólne opracowanie, natomiast fani sportu po piłkarską historię mogą sięgnąć bez żadnych obaw.
August 2, 2024
This book is an awkward blend of Argentine political history and football. The narrative flow is dragged down throughout by that sine qua non of sports nonfiction: descriptions of old matches. Yet Wilson does include some memorable themes.
One theme is the Argentinian love affair with the pibe, the mythical street kid who plays football with innate talent, cunning, and style. Another theme is that of endemic violence at matches, largely driven by the barras, Argentina’s version of ultras, although in Argentina they are gangs. Also, Argentina’s league has become lesser than it was in its past, probably for a variety of reasons, but a tumultuous economy and players leaving the country for greener pastures hasn’t helped.
Wilson does his best writing in describing the lives of individual players, especially Maradona. Wilson has plenty of first-person interviews with many players. Interestingly, for Wilson, Maradona was more of a pibe than Messi, but this is not convincingly argued.
While Wilson may be right in that players who never played on domestic teams are not beloved, that doesn’t seem to square with Messi’s reception in Argentina after recently leading his team to victory in the 2022 World Cup. The book could use a revised edition covering the last years since its publication in 2015.
Less noteworthy were the political, social, or historical elements of the narrative. If there is any pattern in Argentina, it’s of populist reformers, juntas, chronic economic mismanagement, and popular discontentment. If this is true, then maybe Argentine football offers an escape from all that, as well as an affirmation of what its talented people can achieve on a global stage.
One theme is the Argentinian love affair with the pibe, the mythical street kid who plays football with innate talent, cunning, and style. Another theme is that of endemic violence at matches, largely driven by the barras, Argentina’s version of ultras, although in Argentina they are gangs. Also, Argentina’s league has become lesser than it was in its past, probably for a variety of reasons, but a tumultuous economy and players leaving the country for greener pastures hasn’t helped.
Wilson does his best writing in describing the lives of individual players, especially Maradona. Wilson has plenty of first-person interviews with many players. Interestingly, for Wilson, Maradona was more of a pibe than Messi, but this is not convincingly argued.
While Wilson may be right in that players who never played on domestic teams are not beloved, that doesn’t seem to square with Messi’s reception in Argentina after recently leading his team to victory in the 2022 World Cup. The book could use a revised edition covering the last years since its publication in 2015.
Less noteworthy were the political, social, or historical elements of the narrative. If there is any pattern in Argentina, it’s of populist reformers, juntas, chronic economic mismanagement, and popular discontentment. If this is true, then maybe Argentine football offers an escape from all that, as well as an affirmation of what its talented people can achieve on a global stage.
April 5, 2020
In typical Wilson style, this book chronicles the history of Argentinian football with rigorous detail and unmatched insight.
Although dense, certain sections of the book are compelling, namely the more contemporary chapters; the fury of Argentina‘s World Cup victory on home soil in 1978, the enigma and addiction of El Diego, the journey of Marcelo Bielsa, and of course, the rise of Leo Messi and his seismic impact on modern football from the mid-2000s.
Wilson is a meticulous scholar of the game and showcases another of his specialist areas with this story. Although I resonated greater with ‘The Barcelona Legacy’ (no doubt due to my age and recollections of that era/recency bias), this definitive footballing history of Argentina is alluring and comprehensive, another triumphant work.
Wilson’s closing passage links everything together brilliantly. It is in these final lines of the book that his authoritative and convincing argument concludes: ‘Football is another Argentinian dream that slipped away... Argentinian football has become something that is played elsewhere’.
The grandeur of El Monumental (home of River Plate) and La Bombonera (home of Boca Juniors) has declined to an extent and the stadiums have become relics of the past as the best Argentine players succumb to the allure (and money) that Europe has to offer.
This is the somewhat sad tale of Argentinian football, from becoming the self-acclaimed pioneers of the game to a now curious footballing nation that, it would be fair to say, are left to cling to the glories of their past as time goes by.
Although dense, certain sections of the book are compelling, namely the more contemporary chapters; the fury of Argentina‘s World Cup victory on home soil in 1978, the enigma and addiction of El Diego, the journey of Marcelo Bielsa, and of course, the rise of Leo Messi and his seismic impact on modern football from the mid-2000s.
Wilson is a meticulous scholar of the game and showcases another of his specialist areas with this story. Although I resonated greater with ‘The Barcelona Legacy’ (no doubt due to my age and recollections of that era/recency bias), this definitive footballing history of Argentina is alluring and comprehensive, another triumphant work.
Wilson’s closing passage links everything together brilliantly. It is in these final lines of the book that his authoritative and convincing argument concludes: ‘Football is another Argentinian dream that slipped away... Argentinian football has become something that is played elsewhere’.
The grandeur of El Monumental (home of River Plate) and La Bombonera (home of Boca Juniors) has declined to an extent and the stadiums have become relics of the past as the best Argentine players succumb to the allure (and money) that Europe has to offer.
This is the somewhat sad tale of Argentinian football, from becoming the self-acclaimed pioneers of the game to a now curious footballing nation that, it would be fair to say, are left to cling to the glories of their past as time goes by.
July 12, 2018
Great book looking at the Argentinian National Soccer Team from a cultural and political angle. It connects a the great history of the national team with the history of the nation and makes it very interesting. Everyone already knows the fact that Argentinians (weather we like it or not), have given us the greatest soccer players of all times with the likes of Maradona, Batistuta, Kempes, Pasarella, Gallego, Ortega, Riquelme, Crespo, Delgado, and of course d10s Messi the G.O.A.T. This is where it all began.
March 18, 2020
Wilson writes with such knowledge of his subject, and clearly a wealth of research has gone into this book. The best parts are when he puts himself into the stories, when he details his time in Argentina, meeting and chatting with the legendary figures. Sadly these moments are brief, and the majority of the book reads like a very thorough report of each year in the country’s footballing (and socio-political) history. Impressively thorough of course, but lacking the heart that makes his personal pieces so great.
March 28, 2018
Good book on Argentinean football, includes a good mix of club and international levels and shows the people of Argentina's obsession with the beautiful game. Also touches on the social and political history of Argentina and how that influenced, and still does, the game. Especially during the 1978 World Cup.
December 4, 2022
The dramatic tale of the soul of Argentina
This is a story about a society that have football running through its veins. It is the history of the founding of a country that was followed by the introduction of its footballing soul not long after. And it is about how the brutal politics, the constantly chaotic economy, and the cultural background of a nation have shaped their footballing style, and in return this style becomes a part of the national identity.
At a first glance, it’s almost impossible to see the glories and despairs of its football matches alongside the country’s hyperinflation rate and series of political turmoils. But this is what happened in Argentina, and Jonathan Wilson did one heck of a good job in illustrating the ups and downs of the national team in each era alongside the context of the country’s environment.
To really get the feel of the soul, Wilson went down to the grassroots by living in Argentina, doing what the locals do, attending the many different football matches, meeting many of the legends himself for a first-person vantage point interviews.
Along the way he discovered that football is also a lucrative dirty business for the so-called “barra bravas”, the violent gangs controlling football in the country. Inflation and neoliberalism also dictate the way business are approached and this in turn spillover to how football management are handled, which partly explains the many exports of players to elsewhere in search for a better future. Indeed, it’s hard to escape the darkness of the history of Argentina, even in football where violence, rape cases, drug abuse, even murder became part of its horrifying past.
It is within this chaos that multiple generations of talents emerge, from a population of just 25 million people. From Alfredo Di Stefano, to Daniel Passarella, Mario Kempes, Maradona, Lionel Messi, and to so much more within their respective generations.
This book tells it all. It is like the history of the Argentinian national team, River Plate, Boca Juniors, Newel Old Boys, Estudiante, Velez Sarsfield, etc, all combined into one big narration. It is also a biography of the legends such as Maradona and Messi, and the many great coaches such as Cesar Luis Menotti, Carlos Bilardo, and the ever eccentric and influential Marcello Bielsa. No wonder it takes a huge effort to write, resulting a big book of 600+ pages, longer than intended by Wilson.
The book also tells the tale of the folk hero Martin Palermo, the tactical problems of deploying both Messi and Tevez, the enigma of how to best use Riquelme, the role that Mascerano mastered, why Saviola never quite made it in Barcelona, and other technical stuffs. It tells the romantic story of a returning heroes like Veron to his old Argentinian club Estudiantes, or what happened with Carlos Roa after Dennis Bergkamp scores THAT goal against him in World Cup 1998.
There are also some quirks every now and then, such as the way Boca Juniors ended up wearing their iconic jersey colour due to losing a bet in a match and had to adopt the colour of the first ship they saw entering the harbour (which happened to be a Swedish vessel), or how River Plate got its name from the name of a container that the local guys supposed to move (but they played football instead).
But the biggest revelation from this book for me is how bizarre and chaotic Maradona was. He breaks rules wherever he went, started mayhems, abused drugs, but then blame his loss or shortcomings on the paranoia conspiracy he had in his mind that everyone is trying to take him down. He always picks a fight with the club he’s in, ends his career at each club with a catastrophic disagreement. Indeed, trainwreck always follows him wherever he goes, but yet he still get chance after chance into good footballing positions as a player and as a manager, and he’s so loved by many and elevated into a status of “God.”
But I guess Maradona is the physical embodiment of the soul of the nation, a character trait that the people can relate to. Yes he’s an utter mess at times but he’s magical and brilliant at other times, just like the politics. He has wild mood swings and paranoia just like the hyperinflation. He came to any new club as a hero and leave like a president who just got toppled by yet another military coup in the country. He’s somebody with a huge potential but often crash and burn at the worst possible timings.
And perhaps that’s Argentina in a nutshell, a wonderful mix of chaos, highs and lows, perfectly reflected in its football. And for a relatively struggling nation, Argentina has an almost incomparably rich history. As Wilson pointed out, as at the time of the writing in 2016, “They’ve won two World Cups and lost in three finals; they’ve won fourteen Copa Américas (six more than Brazil). Their clubs have lifted the Copa Libertadores twenty-four times (seven more than Brazil’s).”
You see, football breathe differently in this part of the world. It is not merely a sports entertainment, but a way of escape, both mentally and, for many, literally a physical ticket to come out of the slumps. Football is a 90 minute distraction from reality. Football is a glimmer of hope in an otherwise bleak living condition. Football is the pride of their nation. Simply put, football is the life and soul of Argentina.
This is a story about a society that have football running through its veins. It is the history of the founding of a country that was followed by the introduction of its footballing soul not long after. And it is about how the brutal politics, the constantly chaotic economy, and the cultural background of a nation have shaped their footballing style, and in return this style becomes a part of the national identity.
At a first glance, it’s almost impossible to see the glories and despairs of its football matches alongside the country’s hyperinflation rate and series of political turmoils. But this is what happened in Argentina, and Jonathan Wilson did one heck of a good job in illustrating the ups and downs of the national team in each era alongside the context of the country’s environment.
To really get the feel of the soul, Wilson went down to the grassroots by living in Argentina, doing what the locals do, attending the many different football matches, meeting many of the legends himself for a first-person vantage point interviews.
Along the way he discovered that football is also a lucrative dirty business for the so-called “barra bravas”, the violent gangs controlling football in the country. Inflation and neoliberalism also dictate the way business are approached and this in turn spillover to how football management are handled, which partly explains the many exports of players to elsewhere in search for a better future. Indeed, it’s hard to escape the darkness of the history of Argentina, even in football where violence, rape cases, drug abuse, even murder became part of its horrifying past.
It is within this chaos that multiple generations of talents emerge, from a population of just 25 million people. From Alfredo Di Stefano, to Daniel Passarella, Mario Kempes, Maradona, Lionel Messi, and to so much more within their respective generations.
This book tells it all. It is like the history of the Argentinian national team, River Plate, Boca Juniors, Newel Old Boys, Estudiante, Velez Sarsfield, etc, all combined into one big narration. It is also a biography of the legends such as Maradona and Messi, and the many great coaches such as Cesar Luis Menotti, Carlos Bilardo, and the ever eccentric and influential Marcello Bielsa. No wonder it takes a huge effort to write, resulting a big book of 600+ pages, longer than intended by Wilson.
The book also tells the tale of the folk hero Martin Palermo, the tactical problems of deploying both Messi and Tevez, the enigma of how to best use Riquelme, the role that Mascerano mastered, why Saviola never quite made it in Barcelona, and other technical stuffs. It tells the romantic story of a returning heroes like Veron to his old Argentinian club Estudiantes, or what happened with Carlos Roa after Dennis Bergkamp scores THAT goal against him in World Cup 1998.
There are also some quirks every now and then, such as the way Boca Juniors ended up wearing their iconic jersey colour due to losing a bet in a match and had to adopt the colour of the first ship they saw entering the harbour (which happened to be a Swedish vessel), or how River Plate got its name from the name of a container that the local guys supposed to move (but they played football instead).
But the biggest revelation from this book for me is how bizarre and chaotic Maradona was. He breaks rules wherever he went, started mayhems, abused drugs, but then blame his loss or shortcomings on the paranoia conspiracy he had in his mind that everyone is trying to take him down. He always picks a fight with the club he’s in, ends his career at each club with a catastrophic disagreement. Indeed, trainwreck always follows him wherever he goes, but yet he still get chance after chance into good footballing positions as a player and as a manager, and he’s so loved by many and elevated into a status of “God.”
But I guess Maradona is the physical embodiment of the soul of the nation, a character trait that the people can relate to. Yes he’s an utter mess at times but he’s magical and brilliant at other times, just like the politics. He has wild mood swings and paranoia just like the hyperinflation. He came to any new club as a hero and leave like a president who just got toppled by yet another military coup in the country. He’s somebody with a huge potential but often crash and burn at the worst possible timings.
And perhaps that’s Argentina in a nutshell, a wonderful mix of chaos, highs and lows, perfectly reflected in its football. And for a relatively struggling nation, Argentina has an almost incomparably rich history. As Wilson pointed out, as at the time of the writing in 2016, “They’ve won two World Cups and lost in three finals; they’ve won fourteen Copa Américas (six more than Brazil). Their clubs have lifted the Copa Libertadores twenty-four times (seven more than Brazil’s).”
You see, football breathe differently in this part of the world. It is not merely a sports entertainment, but a way of escape, both mentally and, for many, literally a physical ticket to come out of the slumps. Football is a 90 minute distraction from reality. Football is a glimmer of hope in an otherwise bleak living condition. Football is the pride of their nation. Simply put, football is the life and soul of Argentina.
October 30, 2019
Angels with Dirty Faces is wonderfully segmented into bite-sized chapters. Wilson provides a wonderful narrative as to how the game took off and why – Maradona, dictators, corruption, Messi et al are all in here. And why in a country so used to division, football is often the unifying force.
September 24, 2016
A brilliantly researched book exploring the history of Argentina and its football
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