I have to admit I’d never heard of Béla Guttmann before picking up this book about him. I did know that Benfica, the team he coached, had won the European Cup in 1961 and 1962, and as a boy I was very aware of his protégé Eusebio, who was regarded as one of the world’s greatest players. I was intrigued to read the story of a Holocaust survivor who achieved such a spectacular level of sporting success.
Guttmann’s life was a rollercoaster. Born in Budapest in 1899, he was a successful footballer in Central Europe in the 1920s before moving to the United States in 1926. Apparently soccer had a short-term boom in the US in the 1920s, but by the 1930s the League had gone bust and Guttmann was penniless in New York during the Great Depression. His financial position wasn’t helped by having a lifelong gambling addiction. So desperate was he that he returned to Europe in 1938, a decision very few Jews would have made at that time. In 1938-39 he successfully coached the Hungarian club Újpest. During WW2, Hungarian Jews were heavily persecuted but were not subject to actual extermination until the German Army occupied the country in 1944. Guttmann survived partly by hiding and partly by working in a Hungarian slave labour camp. He described the degradation of the camp in a later interview, ending with the words:
“Was I a footballer from the national team, was I a successful coach? Was I a man? Who cared, you had to forget all about it! And how much more humiliation, my friend!”
In an astonishing rebound from the war years, Guttmann once again became a coach, achieving his greatest successes in the late 50s and early 60s with Säo Paulo in Brazil, and then in Portugal, first with FC Porto and then with Benfica, who twice became European Champions.
The author puts Guttmann’s pre-war career within the context of Jewish life in Europe, and thus makes the book into more than just a sporting biography. One chapter featured Guttmann’s time as a player in the 20s with Hakoah Vienna, an all-Jewish team whose philosophy of “muscular Judaism”, was intended to counteract the image of Jews as physically unfit victims who simply put up with daily assaults and insults from the majority population. Hakoah players were encouraged to get in the faces of their opponents, an approach which suited Guttmann’s own personality. The author goes on to describe the later fate of those involved with the club, as well as what happened in other places where Guttmann lived. It doesn’t matter how often you read descriptions of Holocaust massacres, they don’t become any less horrifying.
For all his remarkable life, there were aspects to Guttmann’s personality that were less than admirable. It’s good that the author covered this – when I read a biography I’m looking for neither a hagiography nor a character assassination. I did think that at one point the author tried to excuse his subject a little too much.
On one level this is a sports biography. On another it’s a story about European society, or as the author eloquently puts it, about:
“two conflicting visions of Europe…one of barbarism and genocide, and one of beauty, wonder and romance, of balmy May evenings in magnificent cities, where great players would stretch every sinew before joyous crowds in a bid to win football’s holy grail, the European Cup. At a time of renewed and escalating tension in that continent, as the last remnants of once great Jewish communities pray in their synagogues and study in their schools behind high wire fences and armed guards, the story of Guttmann’s life asks the question: which of these visions will triumph in our times?”