In 1968, Hungary’s communist poster boys thought playing Argentina’s world champions in their rabidly anti-communist backyard was a good idea. It was.

In 1968, Hungary’s communist poster boys thought playing Argentina’s world champions in their rabidly anti-communist backyard was a good idea. It was.
It’s 1949 and László Kubala is sitting in the back of a truck, speeding away from the Budapest and the country of his birth under cover of night.
Continue reading