Before diving in, let’s establish two fundamental truths about football: it reigns supreme as the world’s greatest sport, and I stand as a neutral observer, unburdened by team allegiance. This vantage point allows for a (somewhat) objective appreciation of the beautiful game. However, it also means I can only grasp intellectually, not viscerally, the ecstatic highs and crushing lows experienced by fans – the sheer joy of a trophy win, the relief of avoiding relegation, or the emotional rollercoaster of a match like Barcelona’s historic comeback against Paris Saint-Germain. I exist in a state of detached fandom, captivated by the spectacle but emotionally removed from the immediate outcomes.
The recent Champions League round of 16 fixtures, culminating in Monaco’s thrilling encounter with Manchester City, sparked a reflection on the sheer brilliance of the competition. Pundits and journalists were already lauding the incredible matches, including that unforgettable moment when Sergio Roberto’s goal sealed Barcelona’s miraculous turnaround against PSG, a true “where were you when…” event.
This season’s last 16 witnessed a staggering 62 goals across 16 matches, averaging 3.8 goals per game. A feast for neutrals like myself, and pure elation for supporters of the eight teams advancing from this intense 29-day period.
The quarter-final draw promises more excitement, but for me, the spotlight is on Leicester City. Not just as the sole remaining English team, but for their captivating journey, a narrative already bordering on legend for Leicester fans, a deserved continuation of their fairytale Premier League triumph.
Contemplating this Champions League drama, my thoughts drifted back to a Real Madrid versus Napoli clash from 1987. I was a football-obsessed 14-year-old, captivated by the prospect of watching my idol, Diego Maradona, against a Real Madrid side brimming with talent, including the exceptional Emilio Butragueño.
This wasn’t a Champions League game; it was something even more prestigious: a European Cup tie. Significantly, this was a first-round encounter, not a strategically crafted last-16 fixture.
Maradona had been instrumental in leading Napoli to their first-ever Serie A title, earning them entry into Europe’s premier club competition. Back then, participation was strictly for league winners, unless the previous season’s Euro Cup Champions were invited to defend their title.
The first leg in Madrid was played behind closed doors, a consequence of crowd trouble in Real Madrid’s previous semi-final against Bayern Munich. Madrid secured a 2-0 victory in the eerie silence, before travelling to Italy for the return leg. An early Napoli goal ignited hope, but a Madrid equaliser extinguished it, ending Napoli’s inaugural European Cup journey after a single round.
This particular match is arguably an indirect catalyst for the Champions League, or at least, its evolution. Silvio Berlusconi, AC Milan’s owner, watched the game with dismay, appalled that two footballing giants could clash so early in the competition. The potential early exit of a major footballing force troubled the Italian magnate. He also feared Milan could suffer a similar fate. His response was to propose a European Super League, ensuring consistent matchups between Europe’s elite clubs.
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The Super League didn’t materialize then, but the concern about early exits for big clubs resonated. UEFA recognized the benefits of a competition structure that would allow major teams to progress further. The result was the Champions League, the ever-evolving successor to the European Cup.
In the European Cup era, fate played a significant role. The draw dictated your path. For many fans, it was a moment to rally behind their nation’s representative, a kind of annual mini-European Championship.
Draws were eagerly anticipated weeks in advance. For me, they were almost a motivation to study GCSE geography. Armed with an atlas and newspaper, I’d analyze the draw, tracking where British clubs were headed, who faced the longest journeys, the most easterly destinations, and identifying the glamour tie of each round.
Before the internet and the fall of the Iron Curtain, any match beyond Vienna felt like venturing into the unknown. Stories would circulate – playground myths of dads’ acquaintances who knew someone who had travelled to these footballing outposts and barely escaped with their lives, or struggled to return to England. European Cup draws fueled fantastical tales, matches seemingly played on another planet.
Then came highlights on Sportsnight. Glimpses of distant stadiums, often with running tracks encircling the pitch, and familiar names from World Cups, now in unfamiliar kits, showcasing their renowned style and brilliance. It took time to reconcile that Michel Platini in Juventus’ black and white stripes was the same languid, untucked Les Blues maestro from the 1982 World Cup.
Remarkably, in the European Cup’s format, only a country with the reigning Euro Cup champions could have two teams from the same nation potentially drawn against each other. This was a badge of honor, signifying your nation’s current European dominance.
This occurred in the 1978-79 competition. Nottingham Forest, under Brian Clough’s enigmatic leadership, fresh from winning the league title and their first European Cup entry, were drawn against Liverpool – the Euro Cup champions from the previous two seasons – in the first round. The tie of the round, no atlas needed.
Forest won the first leg 2-0 and held the reigning European champions to a 0-0 draw at Anfield. They were on their way, having overcome the favorites in the first round, to winning their first European Cup title. Having successfully defended their Euro Cup title the following season, Nottingham Forest remain unique: the only club to have won the European Cup more times than their domestic league.
If unfamiliarity paved the way for Clough’s Forest to Euro Cup glory, the current Champions League is defined by excessive familiarity. This season, Barcelona faced PSG and Bayern Munich played Arsenal for the fourth time in five seasons. Surely, such repetition breeds contempt, or at least, boredom for neutral fans.
This brings us to the heart of the matter. Unanswerable football questions ignite passionate debates among fans: Was Manchester United’s treble-winning team superior to the Busby Babes? How would Lionel Messi fare in the 1970s? These are enjoyable, if ultimately futile, discussions.
As I age, I recognize my traditionalist leanings. Football history was once defined by eras of great teams and dominant players. Now, I fear English football will be categorized as pre- or post-Premier League, and pre- or post-Champions League. Many sports students I teach lack a genuine understanding of the old First Division or the European Cup’s legacy.
This leads to the crucial question: Is the Champions League superior to the European Cup?
For me, the essence lies in the European Cup’s exclusivity – a competition reserved for league champions. It was the reward for a season-long league triumph. A league winner’s medal and entry into the most prestigious club competition were almost equally valued, beyond just financial incentives.
The straight knockout format created anticipation and risk in every tie. But to win a cup competition, you must be prepared to face and defeat all comers. This format inherently allowed for the cherished neutral’s delight: the cup upset.
Two-legged ties in every round except the final ensured the first leg’s impact resonated in the return leg. Imagine if every round possessed the intensity of this year’s extraordinary last-16 stage?
In 1992-93, the European Cup transformed into the Champions League. Group stages were introduced, diluting the knockout drama and the potential for miracle comebacks like Barcelona versus PSG became less likely in the earlier stages.
In 1997, UEFA further altered the competition, a change that, in my view, permanently diminished its value. League runners-up were granted entry to the tournament proper. In 1999, this expanded further, allowing some nations to enter up to four teams. By 2005-06, an unbelievable five English clubs participated.
How can a competition featuring 25% of the Premier League be considered the Coupe des Clubs Champions Européens? Why should teams from smaller footballing nations endure qualifying rounds? Winning a league title is a triumph regardless of the league’s stature.
Why should Welsh Premier League champions The New Saints face a first-round qualifier on June 28th, while Tottenham, finishing third in the Premier League, automatically enter the group stages, beginning their campaign on September 14th?
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In this Champions League season, only three group winners – Barcelona, Juventus, and Leicester City – were also domestic league champions. Teams who weren’t champions in their respective leagues topped the other five groups. I acknowledge the argument that every team earns their place and chance, and if league winners fail to top their group, that’s their failing. The current format doesn’t guarantee group dominance for league winners, but it should at least offer a greater opportunity to progress as true Euro cup champions should be.
I understand the influence of money and media contracts on the Champions League’s structure and team seeding. The relentless demand for televised football is a major driver, but should this demand supersede the competition’s fundamental ethos?
Don’t The New Saints deserve the chance to be drawn against Barcelona or Juventus? Wouldn’t the anticipation of that first-round draw be reward enough for their league-winning season? Imagine the small Welsh club’s fans, dreaming of the possibilities as names are drawn.
The relentless pursuit of a top-four finish has, arguably, devalued the FA Cup. Arsenal’s consistent top-four finishes have resulted in 11 consecutive Champions League seasons since their last league title. Do Arsenal fans truly view top four as success? Would Spurs players prefer FA Cup and League Cup winner’s medals over Champions League appearances?
These are frequently debated questions, but if the Champions League reverted to the European Cup format, these questions would be irrelevant.
Therefore, my focus returns to Leicester City. It feels right that they are the sole English team remaining in the Champions League. They earned their place through 38 league games last season, and are now rightfully enjoying the rewards. May their journey continue.
If they are eliminated, the traditionalist in me hopes it’s against another reigning league champion, not third-placed Atletico Madrid. If they were to win it, they could, for one season at least, justifiably claim the title of best club in Europe, true Euro cup champions.
Perhaps the Champions League only truly captivates around February because, at its core, it momentarily reverts to the spirit of the European Cup.
By Stuart Horsfield @loxleymisty44
