In May 1960, an earthquake of magnitude 9.5 — the largest ever recorded by instruments — devastated southern Chile. Two years later that country had to host a World Cup. The phrase that saved it was said by Carlos Dittborn, the official who had fought for the bid: «because we have nothing, we want to do everything». Dittborn died a month before the tournament started, aged 38. The stadium in Arica bears his name.
June 2, 1962, Chile versus Italy. The Italian press had published disparaging articles about Chile and the country was fired up. What happened on the pitch was presented like this by the BBC, through the voice of David Coleman: «the most stupid, appalling, repugnant and shameful spectacle in the history of football».
There were punches, flying kicks, a broken nose — that of Italian Humberto Maschio, from a right hook by Chilean Leonel Sánchez, who was a boxer's son — and police had to enter the field four times. English referee Ken Aston sent off two Italians and completely lost control of the match.
Chile won 2-0. And that disaster had consequences that reach to this day: years later, Ken Aston himself was the one who invented the yellow and red cards, looking for a way for players to understand the punishment without needing to speak their language. He came up with the idea while sitting at a traffic light.


Pelé suffered an injury in the second match and never played again. Brazil, the defending champions, lost their star in the first week.
And then came Manoel Francisco dos Santos, Garrincha, a man with both legs bent inward because of a birth defect — one six centimetres shorter than the other — whom doctors had told wouldn't be able to play football. He tore the tournament apart. Two goals against England in the quarter-finals, two against Chile in the semi-finals, and a performance that many people consider the greatest individual display in World Cup history.
He finished as top scorer of the tournament, tied with five other players on four goals, and as the tournament's best player.


Spain returned to a World Cup twelve years after Brazil 1950 — the 1954 Rome draw had knocked them out and they failed to qualify in 1958. They arrived with an idea that sounds absolutely bonkers now: Helenio Herrera's squad brought Alfredo Di Stéfano and Ferenc Puskás, both naturalized players.
And here's one of the saddest stories in Spanish football: Di Stéfano never played a single minute of World Cup football in his entire life. He got injured before the tournament started and never got his debut. Argentina didn't go to a World Cup during his best years, he couldn't make it with Colombia, and when he finally arrived with Spain, his body said no. The best player of his era never played a single World Cup match.
Spain lost to Czechoslovakia, beat Mexico and lost to Brazil. Out in the first phase.
There's one thing in this World Cup that's never been repeated: Colombian Marcos Coll scored an Olympic goal — straight from the corner kick, without anyone touching the ball — in Colombia's 4-4 with the Soviet Union. And he did it against none other than Lev Yashin, the greatest goalkeeper in history.
It's the only Olympic goal in World Cup history. Sixty-odd years later, it's still the only one.

That yellow and red cards came straight out of that match.
That the connection is real but indirect. The referee of that disaster, Ken Aston, is indeed the one who came up with the cards — but years later, and the trigger he himself described was a different match, England-Argentina in 1966, after which he realized players didn't know they'd been booked or sent off because they didn't understand the language. The colour-coding idea came to him at a traffic light. They debuted in Mexico 1970. So Santiago 62 is part of the problem's origin, not the solution's.
That Garrincha was sent off in the semifinal against Chile and that FIFA let him play the final «because he was the best».
That the sending-off is real and that he played the final too. What's unclear is the why: several versions circulate — diplomatic pressure, a lenient referee's report, intervention by Brazil's prime minister — and none are conclusively documented. The honest answer is he was allowed to play without anyone knowing exactly how.
That Chile 62 was the most brutal tournament ever played.
That the reputation comes mainly from a single match, Italy's, which was also the one the world saw on television. The tournament had more rough episodes, yes, but we shouldn't reduce an entire championship to one match. What is objective is that it was, until then, the lowest-scoring World Cup in history: football was becoming more defensive and you could really see it here.
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