"Illa! Illa! Illa! Juanito maravilla!" As the crowd at the Santiago Bernabéu remind the world during every match Real Madrid play, yes, yes, yes, Juanito was a wonder. An indomitable winger-cum-striker of the 1980s, Juanito played with a never-give-in determination, and wore the famous meringue-white shirt with pride.
His influence, presence and spirit proved integral to some of Real's most famous European comebacks: turnarounds against Celtic in the 1979/80 European Cup (3-0), Anderlecht and Internazionale in the 1984-85 Cup Winners Cup (6-1 and 3-0), and Borussia Mönchengladbach in the 1985-86 Uefa Cup (4-0). As a consequence, the iconic and beloved Juanito – who perished in a car crash in 1992 at the tragically young age of 37 – is to this day remembered whenever the match clock at the Bernabéu ticks round to seven minutes, a callback to the number he usually wore.
But sometimes he played with a little too much determination, wore the shirt with a little too much pride. "If I weren't a player, I'd be an ultra sur," he once announced. His actions pretty much confirm that he wasn't just spouting this to curry favour with the more sociopathic elements of Real's support.
In 1978, Real Madrid were a minute away from defeating Grasshoppers in the second round of the European Cup, when a contentious offside decision went the Swiss side's way, and Claudio Sulser was granted permission to score a winning goal with the last kick of the game. Upon the sounding of the final whistle, Juanito entered into a full and frank exchange of views with referee Adolf Prokop, and was alleged to have "repeatedly butted" both Prokop and one of his flag-wielding pals. Uefa banned him from European competition for two seasons, though the punishment was reduced on appeal.
Juanito had by this stage already displayed an almost supernatural ability to attract controversy while turning out for Spain. Taking his leave of the pitch after being substituted during a qualifier for the 1978 World Cup against Yugoslavia in Belgrade, Juanito responded to a cacophony of catcalls by – and this is open to interpretation - either giving the crowd the thumbs down or signing the internationally recognised code for Gentleman's Entertainment. A reply came whistling through the Belgrade sky along an ineluctable arc. With perfect comic timing – it's important to remember that Juanito suffered no lasting damage – a bottle clanked off the top of the player's head just before he made it to the safety of the bench.
What is instructive about both of these astonishing incidents – and this really is the wonder of Juanito – is that neither come close to being the signature spot of bother in the great man's career. Real Madrid and Bayern Munich have played each other more often than any other clubs in the European Cup – 20 matches in nine separate campaigns – and yet when the pair were drawn together in this season's competition for their fifth semi-final meeting, one showdown above all others sprung to mind: the time Juanito went to work on Lothar Matthäus's face.
On April 8 1987, Bayern hosted Real in the semi-final of the European Cup at the Olympiastadion. The two clubs had already built up a nice little rivalry – Bayern besting Real in the 1976 semis, then humiliating them 9-1 in a 1980 pre-season friendly – but this took the affair to a different level. Once again, the West German champions set about humiliating the kings of Spain. Klaus Augenthaler opened the scoring by skelping a shot into the bottom right corner on 11 minutes. On the half hour, Matthäus made it two from the penalty spot. Seven minutes later, Roland Wohlfarth was one of four Bayern players allowed to saunter through a ludicrous gap in the middle of the Madrid defence, and flicked home to make it three.
Having defended like a pub team, it's perhaps no surprise that Real then started acting like one. Real had legitimate cause to feel aggrieved at Bayern's second. Hans Dorfner had scampered after an Andy Brehme pass down the inside right and leapt over the outstretched frame of Francisco Buyo, who had sprung off his line and beat Munich's man to the ball.
The referee, Bob Valentine, pointed to the spot, a manifestly unjust decision, albeit one the Scottish official would have been unable to make had Real's defence bothered to turn up on time for a major European semi. Nevertheless, a mixture of searing injustice and hot-faced embarrassment at their own ineptitude put Real on a collective hair-trigger, and when Matthäus crudely hacked down Chendo near the centre circle three minutes after Bayern scored their third, it was on.
Matthäus had taken Chendo's ankles from under him, a buffoonish sliding tackle by any measure. Whether he deserved the retribution meted out is another issue altogether. Chendo sprang back up from the turf as though momentarily possessed by the spirit of Denis Law, then shoved the German to the ground. Matthäus exaggerated his fall with Olympic vigour – 6.0, 6.0, 6.0, 6.0, 5.9, 6.0 – presumably in the hope of avoiding a booking for his own transgression. It was a futile effort, the referee rushing to the scene with yellow already in hand, preparing to brandish. But soon Valentine had other cards to deliver.
Juanito, racing towards the brouhaha in Valentine's slipstream, arrived with extreme prejudice and planted his right boot on the side of the prone Matthäus's torso. He performed a balletic 360-degree turn – not bad going seeing he was already in a flat spin – bent over the screaming Bayern midfielder to issue a few words of beneficial advice, then pushed his same foot down hard on his victim's jaw, in the manner of a frustrated motorcyclist trying to kickstart a broken-down steed.
It was, quite literally, a jaw-dropping assault. Most of football's famous fouls or scraps – certainly the ones that don't result in serious or lasting injury to a player – retain an element of comedy to them, often a sizable one. Cameroon's collective assault on Claudio Caniggia at Italia 90, the comic-book dukes-up nonsense at the end of the Battle of Santiago, even Graeme Souness's egregious ball-crushing rake on Steaua Bucharest's Gheorghe Rotariu: all elicit involuntary laughter at the sheer audacity of the thuggery, even if common sense or guilt kicks in a few seconds later. But Juanito's vicious stamp on Matthäus works on a different plane, provoking instant recoil and a sharp intake of breath. Manolo Sanchis arrives after the event to plant a snide stud or two on Matthaus's knee, but even the risible nature of this wholly unnecessary follow-up can't leaven the mood.
Matthäus was soon up, holding his jaw and thankfully still able to contort his face into an aggrieved expression without his entire visage tinkling to the floor. But it was no wonder Juanito was instantly sent packing, ushered to the changing room by Real reserve keeper Jose Ochotorena, crestfallen, in tears.
The game ended 4-1, with Mino also sent off for late tackles on Augenthaler and Wohlfarth (but not before needlessly handling to concede a second penalty, dispatched with vengeful glee by Matthäus). Real, shorn of the presence of their salvage specialist, could not launch yet another miraculous European recovery: Carlos Santillana's goal in the second leg at the Bernabéu was not enough to turn the tie around, Bayern holding out despite the ultra sur raining "pointed metal staves" on goalkeeper Jean-Marie Pfaff.
But the real price was paid by Juanito. He was fined £5,000 by Real Madrid – a club maximum – and banned from European competition by Uefa for five years. He sent Matthäus a bullfighter's cape by way of apology, but the damage had been done. His ban signalled the end of his career at the Bernabéu. The following season, Bayern and Real met again in the European Cup, this time in the quarters. Real started slowly again, 3-0 down after 48 minutes of the first leg in Munich.
But Emilio Butragueño and Hugo Sánchez both scored in the final six minutes of the match, then Milan Jankovic and Míchel finished the job back in Spain. Yet another stunning turnaround in Europe by Real's indefatigable side of the Eighties; perhaps, given the opposition, their greatest. But this one was different: for the first time, Juanito was not involved. Their comeback king was in exile at Málaga, destined to never quite get over the ignominious end to his association with his beloved merengues.
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