Ranked! The 21 most shocking World Cup moments EVER

The World Cup has produced more than its fair share of shocking moments in its 20 editions. As it all kicks off in Russia, we’ve narrowed it down to 21 – featuring assault, robbery and collusion (and that’s just on the pitch)…

On reflection, releasing the Jules Rimet Trophy for display in a Westminster stamp exhibition in March 1966, just before the World Cup, perhaps wasn't the brightest move. While the exhibition was open, the cup was watched by two guards at all times. After closing time? Not so much.

One Sunday the trophy disappeared, the lax security provisions mysteriously breached, and for one week a farcical search continued. That's until David Corbett, south London resident, took his dog Pickles out for a walk. Pickles sniffed treasure underneath a bush; treasure which turned out to be the missing trophy.

Should the hubris of the French team in 2002, defending world and European champions, have made this inevitable? Perhaps, but it was still an enormous shock when Les Bleus, shorn of the injured Zinedine Zidane, were beaten by a Senegal team comprised entirely of hitherto mid-level players from the French league.

El Hadji Diouf made a mockery of the 34-year-old Frank Leboeuf, but it was midfielder Papa Bouba Diop who scrambled home the only goal. This was just the beginning of France’s humiliation, though, as they exited the tournament in the first round without scoring.

It wasn’t over the line. Obviously, it wasn’t over the line. The score was 2-2 in extra time of the 1966 World Cup Final against West Germany when Geoff Hurst spun and hammered his shot against the bar. It bounced down on the line, England protested, referee Gottfried Dienst referred to linesman Tofiq Bahramov, who nodded with certainty. Goal!

Bahramov later wrote that he thought the ball had actually hit the net, rather than the crossbar, which explained his decision – although the story that on his deathbed he said simply “Stalingrad” when asked about the goal is almost certainly nonsense.

North Korea’s relationship with the rest of the world wasn’t always as rosy, problem-free, uncomplicated and stable as it currently is. In 1966, the country lacked diplomatic relations with many nations, but everyone adores an underdog story. So, after the North Koreans beat Italy at Ayresome Park in that year’s World Cup, everyone loved them.

Huge shock though it was, Italy weren’t actually all that: despite their team being chock full of stars, they hadn’t progressed past the first round since winning the thing in 1938. After defeat by the USSR, Italy needed to beat Korea to progress, but a goal from Pak Doo-ik just before half-time was enough to send them out.

The 1998 World Cup should have been Ronaldo's moment: a phenomenal young player coming towards his peak, dominating the world. But the final didn’t go to plan.

"I decided to get some rest after lunch and the last thing I remember was going to bed," he told FourFourTwo. "After that, I had a convulsion. I was told I wasn’t going to play, but all the essential medical exams didn't show anything was abnormal. I approached [manager Mario] Zagallo at the stadium and said: ‘I’m fine. I'm not feeling anything. Here are the test results, they’re fine. I want to play.’ I didn't give him an alternative.”

Brazil lost 3-0 to hosts France and Ronaldo was a shadow of himself... but his time would come.

The tournament that was supposed to heal a 64-year-old national scar (see No.7 on this list) only ended up opening it even further. It was a bit like going to hospital to sort a chronic back problem only to slip and break your neck.

By the 25th minute of this 2014 World Cup semi-final, Germany were 5-0 up against the hosts. Half of the dazed Brazil team looked like they wanted to get off the pitch as quickly as possible to end the torture; half wanted to stay there forever to put off what would come next. "My message for the Brazilian people is to please excuse us for this performance," pleaded manager Luiz Felipe Scolari.

The potential for political propaganda in sport is almost as old as sport itself. Benito Mussolini had his feet well and truly under the table as Italy’s dictator by the time that the 1938 World Cup in France rolled around. Italy, the defending champions, had a chance to win on foreign soil and Mussolini saw the chance for a piping-hot nationalistic display of superiority.

Anti-fascist protests were rumbling in those pre-war days, but Mussolini was determined that Italy would win – and win with the Fascio Littorio (the fascist emblem) on their shirts. In terms of symbolism, an Italy team wearing black shirts and doing a fascist salute before game couldn’t really be beaten – and nor could the team, who triumphed over Hungary in the final.

Subtlety is key when you’re contriving a result. Don’t make it look too obvious. That’s not something that West Germany and Austria seemed too concerned about in 1982, when one particular scoreline turned out to be most convenient for both sides. A 1-0 win for the West Germans in the final Group 2 game in Gijon would see both sides qualify for the second phase, eliminating an Algeria team that had shocked Germany with a 2-1 win in the opening game. 

Horst Hrubesch scored in the 11th minute, and while the popular image of a game with two teams passing it sideways until they were allowed to stop isn’t quite right, it was clear by the final quarter that both sides settled for the convenient result.

Even if Cameroon’s preparations for the 1990 World Cup had been perfect, this would have been an extraordinary result. But they were a shambles in the lead-up to the tournament, losing to assorted club teams in preparatory friendlies, rife with arguments and with a manager who nearly got the sack.

However, in the tournament’s Milan opener, Cameroon somehow defeated the reigning champions. Francois Omam-Biyik’s weak header squirted through Nery Pumpido’s hands, which then allowed Cameroon to go about the real business of the day: booting Argentine players as high in the air as possible.

The story goes that Moacir Barbosa, Brazil’s goalkeeper at the 1950 World Cup, held a barbecue at some point in the 1960s. A guest asked what the large pieces of wood that were burning to cook the meat were. They were, Barbosa said, the posts from the final match of that World Cup, which some misguided soul had given to him for reasons unclear.

On the morning of the decisive game against Uruguay, a Rio newspaper printed a photo of the team saying: “These are the world champions.” But despite Friaça giving Brazil the lead, their neighbours came back through Juan Alberto Schiaffino, and then in the closing stages, an Alcides Ghiggia shot crept under Barbosa. Cue national hysteria, mourning and humiliation.

Harald Schumacher’s book Blowing The Whistle, published in 1987, is an illuminating read for a number of reasons. Not least his assertion that in his 'collision’ with Patrick Battiston in the semi-final of the 1982 World Cup, he did the Frenchman a favour.

"If I’d collided with him head on, it would have been worse for him," Schumacher wrote. He also said that his post-game quip where, after being told the news that Battiston had lost two teeth, he said: 'If that’s all that’s wrong with him, I’ll pay to have them crowned' was a stupid remark borne of relief that the injury wasn’t more serious.

Medics had to administer oxygen to the unconscious Battison. The referee awarded Schumacher a goal-kick.

The story, almost certainly apocryphal, has been told many times: this result was such a shock that some newspapers assumed the wire report of a 1-0 final score was a typo, and instead told that England had won 10-0.

True or not, this was the biggest World Cup upset up to that point – an English team featuring Stan Mortensen, Tom Finney, Billy Wright and Roy Bentley, beaten by a ragtag American bunch, most of whom weren’t professionals and some of whom weren’t American. The goalscorer Joe Gaetjens, born in Haiti and who moved to New York to study at Columbia University three years earlier, washed dishes in a restaurant.

It’s worth remembering that, two weeks before the 1954 World Cup Final, the brilliant Hungary team of Ferenc Puskas, Sandor Kocsis, Nandor Hidegkuti beat West Germany 8-3. A hammering, and not an unexpected one - and when both teams reached the final, a repeat was expected.

And yet: Puskas was famously half-fit (at best) after a reducer from Werner Liebrich in that first game fractured his ankle; a village fair outside their hotel had disrupted Hungary's sleep the night before the final; the rain was torrential, and the Germans wore revolutionary screw-in studs on their boots, helping them on the sodden turf. Hungary went 2-0 up inside eight minutes, only to throw it all away and lose 3-2.

The intertwining of Colombia’s national football team with organised crime was always likely to end in tragedy. Heavily fancied before the 1994 World Cup, they were eliminated in the first round, partly because of a defeat by the USA in which Andres Escobar scored a hideously unlucky own goal.

Upon the team's return, Escobar was in a Medellin nightclub when some men tried to provoke him. Rather than react, he chose to go home. As he sat in his car, three men approached and two of them shot him six times. Humberto Castro Munoz, linked to a drug cartel, confessed to Escobar's murder which was widely believed to be punishment for his own goal.