Before diving in, let’s establish two fundamental truths. Firstly, football reigns supreme as the world’s greatest sport. Secondly, as a neutral observer, untethered to any single team, I am granted the privilege of appreciating the game with a degree of objectivity. This vantage point, however, comes at a cost. I can never truly grasp the visceral highs of witnessing your team clinch a trophy or narrowly escape relegation, nor the crushing lows of a defeat like the one Paris Saint-Germain suffered against Barcelona. I exist in a state of detached fandom, captivated by the spectacle but emotionally removed from its sharpest peaks and valleys. My excitement is derived purely from the game itself.
In the aftermath of the Monaco versus Manchester City thriller in the Champions League round of 16, it struck me just how remarkable the entire knockout stage had been. Accolades poured forth from all corners of the footballing world, celebrating the breathtaking matches, including that unforgettable moment when Sergi Roberto’s last-gasp goal sealed Barcelona’s historic comeback against PSG.
This particular Champions League last-16 stage witnessed a staggering 62 goals across 16 matches, averaging an impressive 3.8 goals per game. A feast for neutrals like myself, and an even greater cause for celebration for fans of the eight teams who advanced through the intense, month-long battle.
The subsequent quarter-final draw presented more mouthwatering clashes. Yet, for me, the spotlight shone brightest on Leicester City. Not simply because they were the sole English representatives remaining, but due to their captivating narrative, a Champions League journey destined to become legendary for Leicester supporters, a fitting reward for their improbable Premier League triumph the previous season.
Amidst this reflection on the recent Champions League drama, my thoughts drifted back to a Real Madrid versus Napoli encounter from a bygone era. It was 1987, I was a football-obsessed 14-year-old. Crucially, this match featured my idol, Diego Maradona, facing a Real Madrid team brimming with talent, including the exceptional Emilio Butragueño.
This wasn’t a Champions League fixture as we know it today; it was something arguably even grander. This was a European Cup tie. The key distinction then was that it was a first-round clash, not a strategically designed last-16 encounter.
Maradona had been instrumental in Napoli’s historic first Serie A title win, earning them entry into Europe’s premier club competition. Back then, participation was reserved exclusively for league champions, unless the previous season’s European Cup winner was invited back to defend their title.
Intriguingly, the first leg in Madrid was played behind closed doors, a consequence of crowd disturbances in the previous season’s semi-final against Bayern Munich. Real Madrid secured a 2-0 victory in the eerie silence, before traveling to Italy for the return leg. An early Napoli goal ignited hopes of a comeback, but a Madrid equalizer extinguished those dreams, ending Napoli’s maiden European Cup voyage in the first round.
It’s argued that this specific fixture indirectly contributed to the evolution into the Champions League, or at least a precursor to it. Silvio Berlusconi, AC Milan’s owner, watched in dismay as two footballing giants collided so early in the competition. The notion that a major footballing power would be eliminated so soon troubled the Italian magnate. He also feared Milan could suffer a similar fate. This sparked his proposal for a European Super League, guaranteeing consistent matchups among Europe’s elite clubs.
Image: Johan Cruyff proudly displaying the European Cup trophy, a symbol of the tournament’s historical significance and prestige.
Image: Red Star Belgrade’s jubilant team celebrating their 1991 European Cup victory, an iconic moment from the tournament’s history.
Read | Red Star and the immortal triumph of 1991
The Super League didn’t materialize then, but the concern about early exits for major clubs resonated. UEFA recognized it was in the best interest of these powerful clubs to create a competition where they could remain involved for longer. Consequently, the ever-evolving Champions League replaced the European Cup.
In the European Cup era, teams were subject to the unpredictable nature of the draw. Who would your team be pitted against? It was an opportunity for fans to rally behind their nation’s representatives, a sort of annual mini-European Championship.
The draws were eagerly anticipated weeks in advance. It was arguably the only aspect of GCSE geography that genuinely captivated me. I would pore over the newspaper’s draw with an atlas, tracking the destinations of British clubs, noting the longest journeys, the furthest eastern travels, and identifying the glamour tie of each round.
In the pre-internet age and before the fall of the Iron Curtain, any match beyond Vienna felt like venturing into the unknown. We relied on fragmented accounts and hearsay to understand these distant footballing lands. Playground tales circulated about fathers’ acquaintances who knew someone who had traveled to these places and barely escaped, or struggled to return to England. The European Cup draw fueled fantastical football narratives, matches that seemed to unfold on a different planet due to our limited knowledge.
Then came the highlights, usually on Sportsnight. Glimpses of faraway stadiums, often encircled by running tracks, and names familiar from World Cups, now in unfamiliar kits, showcasing their renowned skill and flair. It took time to reconcile that Michel Platini in Juventus’ black and white stripes was the same player as the casually elegant Les Bleus icon from the 1982 World Cup.
Remarkably, there could even be instances where only one nation could produce a domestic clash within the competition. Back then, this was a genuine badge of honor, signifying your nation as the reigning European Cup holders.
Such a scenario unfolded in the 1978-79 competition. Nottingham Forest, under the enigmatic Brian Clough, fresh off their league title victory, embarked on their inaugural European Cup campaign. Their first-round opponents? None other than Liverpool, the trophy holders from the previous two seasons. It was the tie of the round, and no atlas was required to appreciate its magnitude.
Forest triumphed 2-0 in the first leg, then held the reigning European champions to a 0-0 draw at Anfield. They were on their way, having overcome the favorites in the opening round, to ultimately lift their first European Cup. Having successfully defended the title the following season, Nottingham Forest remains uniquely the only club to have won the European Cup more times than their own domestic league title.
While familiarity paved the way for Clough’s Forest to European Cup glory, it pales in comparison to the constant repetition of matchups we see in today’s Champions League. This season alone, we witnessed Barcelona against PSG and Bayern Munich versus Arsenal for the fourth time in five seasons. Surely, such repetition breeds not just familiarity, but for many fans, boredom.
This brings us to the heart of the matter. Certain football questions remain eternally unanswered, yet fuel countless passionate debates among football enthusiasts and die-hard fans alike. Was Manchester United’s treble-winning team superior to the Busby Babes? How would Lionel Messi have fared had he played in the 1970s? These are enjoyable, if unresolvable, discussions.
As I grow older, I increasingly identify as a football traditionalist. Football history was once defined by eras of dominant teams and iconic players. Now, I fear football, particularly in England, will be categorized as pre- or post-Premier League, and pre- or post-Champions League. Many sports students I encounter lack a genuine understanding of the historical significance of the old First Division or the European Cup.
Considering this shift, the fundamental question arises: Is the Champions League truly superior to the European Cup?
For me, the essence lies in the European Cup’s exclusive nature as a competition for league champions. It was the ultimate reward for conquering a grueling league season. Winning a league title guaranteed not only a medal but also the opportunity to compete in club football’s most prestigious arena. On a personal level, these achievements felt almost equally significant; it wasn’t solely about increased player or club revenue.
The pure knockout format instilled anticipation and jeopardy in every tie. To win, you had to be prepared to face and defeat any opponent in your path. This inherently created the potential for one of football’s most cherished narratives: the cup upset.
The two-legged format, present in every round except the final, ensured that the first leg’s outcome carried significant weight into the return fixture. Imagine if every round possessed the intensity of this year’s extraordinary last-16 stage?
In the 1992-93 season, the European Cup transformed into the Champions League, introducing group stages, diluting the knockout drama and diminishing the possibility of a Barcelona-esque comeback scenario at every stage.
In 1997, UEFA took a further step, which, in my view, permanently devalued the competition. They granted entry to league runners-up. By 1999, this expansion extended to allow some nations to enter up to four teams. The 2005-06 competition even saw an unprecedented five English clubs participate.
How can a tournament featuring 25 percent of the Premier League clubs truly be considered the Coupe des Clubs Champions Européens? Why should champions from less prominent footballing nations be relegated to qualifying rounds? Winning a league title is a triumph, regardless of the league’s stature.
Why should Welsh Premier League champions The New Saints endure a first-round qualifying match on June 28th, while Tottenham, finishing third in the Premier League, directly enter the group stages, commencing their campaign on September 14th?
Image: A historical photograph of Ajax Amsterdam celebrating their European Cup victory, representing a golden era of the competition.
Read | Amsterdam’s last night of European glory
In this season’s Champions League, only three teams – Barcelona, Juventus, and Leicester City – were domestic league champions who topped their respective groups. Teams who were not champions in their domestic leagues led the other five groups. While it’s argued that every team earns their place and must prove their worth, and if league champions fail to dominate their groups, that’s their failing, the current format, undeniably, does not inherently privilege league winners to top their groups, though it arguably offers them an initial advantage.
I acknowledge the significant influence of money and lucrative media contracts on the current structure and seeding of teams. The relentless demand for televised football is a primary driving force. However, should this demand supersede the foundational ethos of the competition?
Don’t The New Saints deserve the anticipation of a first-round draw against a Barcelona or Juventus? Wouldn’t the very prospect of that draw be a sufficient reward for their preceding league campaign? Imagine the excitement among supporters of a smaller Welsh club, awaiting the draw, dreaming of the possibilities as names are drawn from the hat.
The relentless pursuit of a top-four finish has, in many eyes, diminished the FA Cup’s significance. Arsenal’s consistent Champions League qualification has seen them compete in 11 consecutive seasons since their last league title. Do Arsenal fans truly view a top-four finish as genuine success? Would Tottenham 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 become largely irrelevant.
And so, my thoughts return to Leicester City. It feels fitting that they are the sole English team remaining in the Champions League. They earned their Champions League berth over a grueling 38-game league season, and they are rightfully savoring the rewards. May their journey continue.
If they are to be eliminated, the traditionalist in me hopes it’s against another reigning league champion, not against a third-placed team like Atletico Madrid. Should they defy expectations and win it all, they could, for one season at least, justifiably claim to be the best club in Europe.
Perhaps the Champions League only truly captivates around February because, in essence, it reverts to resembling the European Cup – a knockout tournament of champions.
By Stuart Horsfield @loxleymisty44
