The first in a series of one hundred great matches.
In the ancient, cobbled, backstreets of Budapest, that lie in the shadow of the Blue Danube, there sits a bar called Hat Harom. It was once frequented by a band of proud, old men. Sadly, they are all gone now, When they did gather together to reminisce, the conversation almost inevitably turned to a murky, November afternoon, way back in 1953. A period of Hungarian dominance when these same old...