Thirty years ago, Paul Gascoigne made his debut for Lazio in a 1-1 draw against Genoa in Serie A.
Marking this anniversary in written form is tough. Focus could be placed on the incredible atmosphere in the Stadio Olimpico in Rome, packed with Lazio fans and banners in English displaying ‘welcoming’ slogans such as ‘Gazza’s boys are here… shag women… drink beer’. Equally interesting could be the vast build up to this first appearance, the several transfer and injury sagas which resulted in a 498 day gap between his last appearance for Tottenham and his debut for Lazio. There is a library’s worth of great writing about Gascoigne’s struggles with mental health, his cultural significance to the 1990’s and the feelings he evokes in us football fans. But, so much has been written about ‘Gazza’ that the collective memory of him as a footballer is beginning to fade.
Here, Paul Gascoigne the extraordinary footballer is remembered. The gifts he displayed on the pitch. Luckily, the footballing gods in all their wisdom, anointed his 47 minutes against Genoa on 27th September 1992 with all of the sublime and the ridiculous quintessence of Gazza’s footballing goldust.
The game itself was Lazio’s fourth of the season. They had invested heavily in recent years bringing in German attacking duo Thomas Doll and Karl Heinz Riedle, as well as Ajax starlet, Aron Winter. On paper, the talent in the squad was better than the three draws which preceded the Genoa fixture and the pressure was on Gascoigne to ignite the season. Despite the stuttering start, Giuseppe Signori was top of the goal scoring charts, helped by his opening day brace against Sampdoria which launched the season as well as Channel Four’s Football Italia coverage.
Looking back at the TV footage for the Genoa game with fresh eyes, the most noticeable aspect of Gazza in the early stages of the match is how many times he ties his shoelaces. His manic behaviour has been well documented – at Spurs they even considered Valium to calm this aspect down, Gazza himself believed it to be a crucial factor in his potentially career ending injury in the 1991 FA Cup Final.
The laces, for me, tell the story of a footballer looking to start again and prove himself in the best league in the world. Perhaps, in a subconscious way, Gazza wanted to find a focus to control his mind and draw his attention onto the thing itself: the game that he redefined in the way he played it. That, or he just wasn’t very good at tying his shoelaces.
Either way, what becomes clear just a few minutes into watching the Genoa game is that Gazza wants to impress. He pops up on the left and right side of attacking midfield. He loiters on the edge of the area. He grabs the ball to take a free kick to create Lazio’s first chance. He wanders back to join the defensive line to start an attack from deep. All within the first ten minutes of the game. Has an English footballer ever played the game with such freedom?
It’s impressive but it is hyperactive. Cats have looked more relaxed on heated metal structures on top of buildings. The rest of the Lazio team seems to be sticking to a firm tactical plan whereas Gazza is playing in a backyard, eager to impress his mates having been grounded for 498 days. Or, with the stiff competition in midfield from Thomas Doll and Aaron Winter he’s trying to send a signal to his manager, Dino Zoff.
Then, the shoelaces again. The play starts up again and Lazio build from the back, Gazza ties his laces just in front of the defence as the game literally moves past him. Shoes laced, and mind focussed, Gazza picks up the ball in midfield and looks up. Ray Wilkins, in the Channel Four commentary box has been urging him to play some sensible passes, ease his way into the game after such a long period out. Perhaps the laces have done the job, as he lays the ball over to Doll who takes the ball forward. The ball comes loose and Gazza picks it up but he seems incapable of doing anything other than trying to make things happen – he fires off a through ball to Karl-Heinz Riedle who can’t quite turn it into an meaningful attack.
On first glance, this was a mundane moment in the game, an attack that didn’t quite happen but it contained the true essence of Gazza. Wilkins’ commentary draws this into greater focus, the footballing rulebook suggests one thing, but Gascoigne is only capable of following these rules for fleeting moments. His desire to entertain triumphs over all other wants. This creates an aura of affect in the stadium which can be seen most clearly a few minutes later in the first piece of bone fide Gazza magic in a Lazio shirt.
Gazza is on the right corner of the penalty area, a step over beats one man and a burst of pace takes him past the Genoa left back, Branco. The Brazilian manages to recover and block out the cross but the fans in the stadium rise to their feet. The volume of chanting increases and the sense of spectacle is all the more acute. Channel Four cut to the stands and dozens of tifosi are bouncing arm in arm.
Footballing logic suggests that a move such as this would build confidence and settle a performance down. If anything, it does the opposite as Gazza’s mind seems only to process footballing activity that takes the ball forward, or make a chance or lift a crowd. As many have suggested during and after his career, his background and approach to life connected him to the fans but it is easy to forget that the way he played the game was the catalyst for his folk hero status. Fifteen minutes in, he chooses to dribble past the Genoa press just outside his own penalty area, the crowd simmers, and a flowing move comes out of it. Soon afterwards he tries to Cruyff-Turn his way out of the attentions of two markers, loses the ball then hacks down his dispossessor. He’s lucky to escape a yellow card but the fans don’t care – there’s a man on the pitch who understands the value of a ticket price.
Then, the highlight of the half. A good Riedle chance is saved and the ball comes out to Gascoigne on the edge of the area. Gazza chooses the least predictable option, deciding to dribble into the path of four defenders. He guides the ball from foot to foot with breath-taking speed and accuracy to beat one player but the weight of numbers in the box snuffs out the attack. The volume in the stands increases even if the score remains 0-0.
Contained within these moments of distilled entertainment are plenty of errors, misplaced passes and unsuccessful dribbles. These come in stark contrast to Doll who fulfilled a similar attacking midfield role on the pitch and impressed throughout this half. Despite this, there is something about the chances created by the gifted German that don’t quite raise the heartbeat as much as Gazza’s work. They seem like a logical conclusion of a tactical plan rather than a spontaneous glance for attention that his English teammate so often demanded.
As the first half draws to a close, the final aspect of Gazza’s footballing personality is revealed. The profound vulnerability that permeated all that he touched on the pitch. Genoa’s Mario Bortolazzi mistimes a tackle and Gascoigne lands awkwardly holding his right knee. The knee that kept him off the pitch for 498 days. He’s lifted up but returns to the ground shortly afterwards and the camera zooms in. Gazza looks like a frightened child. Thirty years on, it’s still painful to watch and back in Rome the stadium becomes silent. Gascoigne gets back to his feet but all is clearly not well. He limps through the final moments of the half and is substituted by Zoff. Luckily the injury will only keep him out for a few weeks but at this moment all in the stadium fear for the worse.
In his autobiography, Gascoigne revealed that he thought his career was over. Daniel Storey reflecting on this incident in Gazza In Italy writes, ‘Imagine the emotional stress of considering this as an end result every time you took to the field.’ The extraordinary nature of Gazza is that, despite these anxieties, he continued to play the game in the way he did – a method of approaching the game which put him at risk of injury every time he touched the ball.
Quite why he did this is for others to consider, but on the pitch in Rome in September 1992, 50,000 fans were grateful to be in the presence of one of the greatest street footballers of all time. His time in Italy was described by Storey as ‘A three year exhibition of what might have been’ but perhaps this is why he is still held in such high esteem by the Lazio faithful. The way he played the game meant he wouldn’t always complete the dribble, score the goal or make the pass but the drive to do so is what made Gazza a player that lives in the hearts of football fans in Italy, thirty years on from when he first took to the pitch in Rome.