What a team that was. Power, guile, craft, speed.
You say today players work out more - absolutely true. They work for the body beautiful, and can dance around a pitch like ballet dancers, kicking cushioned balloons that float and swerve making everybody look like zico. But that team in the 80s I would say, would batter the best team you could compile today. Ronaldo wouldn't get out of Van Den Hauwe's pocket, Messi wouldn't have a sniff against Ratcliffe's pace, tenacity and readership of the game. Neymar would he matched pace for pace by the athleticism of Stevens. Suarez, the snidey little cheat, would be cowering in his box away from Peter Reid after their first encounter.
It was a complete team, balanced, quick, swift of thought and true of footballing vision.
Yes modern Footballers are primed, but they break easily and don't react well to pain. By the second half, 80s Everton, who used to come out to kick off the first half already in a sweat from their warm up, with a fitness aimed at power, using balls filled with lead and used to playing on mud soaked pitches, would crush any modern team into dust.
I'm Sobbing at how beautiful, exciting, unpredictable football has, at the behest of cash and investment, become so dainty and tepid and, getting like wrestling sometimes, choreographed so that the favoured clubs get to the finals.