retrombm will detail the greatest games in football history, in the style of modern minute-by-minute match reports. We'll tell the story of hundreds of famous matches, exactly as they unfolded, in explicit detail, with added context and analysis, without recourse to received wisdom - because the received wisdom frequently doesn't pass muster. Were Holland really so hard done by in the 1974 World Cup final? (Probably not.) Was Gus Caesar really a total shambles in the 1988 League Cup final? (Not necessarily.) Were England really that good in the Italia 90 semi-final? (Actually, yes, that one's fair enough, they were bloody awesome.)

retrombm will also showcase the classic clips we've been posting on our Twitter feed. Retro features, by writers from the Guardian, Sports Illustrated, FourFourTwo, AOL FanHouse and the Blizzard, are also in the pipeline. Keep 'em peeled.

retrombm will be launching in the spring. Sign up to our email alert and we'll tell you when we've got our act together. It'll be worth the wait, promise. Click around below for a small taster of some big moments...

England v Hungary
Friendly
Wembley, London, 25 November 1953

24 mins: GOAL! England 1-3 Hungary Ferenc Puskas has just done something quite, quite magical in front of 105,000 people who didn't even know his name half an hour ago. The Hungarians started the move in their own half, casually knocking the ball around at sauntering pace as England players inched hesitantly this way and that. Before they knew it, Kocsis had taken Budai's pass down the right to the byline and pulled it back to Puskas, who'd made his way from the centre circle to the corner of the six yard box without being tracked. He wasn't in much of a shooting position but, as Wright caught up and launched in to block the ball, Puskas dragged it back out of the England captain's way with the studs of his left boot, nudged it forward a touch, and lashed it home between Merrick and the near post, all in one smooth movement. Wright, sent aquagliding off the pitch on his buttocks, is now halfway to Hanger Lane roundabout. There's a long way to go, but England are in very real danger of giving up their long unbeaten run against foreign types at Wembley - and their reputation besides. This grand stadium has never seen football like this.

Chile v Italy
World Cup, group two
Estadio Nacional, Santiago, 2 June 1962

41 min: FISTFIGHT! Oh this is ridiculous. Ferrini was sent off earlier for his rake on Landa and square, but if he goes, then Sanchez surely has to walk for what's just gone on here. Sanchez twists and turns down the left, but gets absolutely nowhere, David sticking to him like glue. Eventually the Chilean loses his footing, his arse hitting the ground, the ball nestling between his legs. David takes the opportunity to turn things up a notch, but with the dial already at 11, it shears clean off. David boots the prone Sanchez, ostensibly in an attempt to release the ball, though let's all be honest with ourselves about what's going on here. He connects twice with Sanchez's leg, encouraging the winger to spring up and retaliate - foolishly, as the Chilean is the son of a professional boxer. Dad's done a good job in training junior, too: Sanchez swings a southpaw at David's jaw, catching him plum underneath it and sending the Italian spinning round through 180 degrees, then back again as he falls to the floor, landing flat out on his back. You can almost hear the cartoon tweets and whistles. Sanchez hops around, holding his right leg in the air like a puppy with a sore paw - and what an act, because he somehow gets away with the punch, staying on the field despite the linesman being literally one step away from the action, and referee Ken Aston not too far behind. And here come the police onto the pitch again, with a view to calming down two sets of outraged players. Good luck with that, officers!

England v West Germany
World Cup, final
Wembley, London, 30 July 1966

101 min: GOAL! England 3-2 West Germany If the Germans courted controversy with their second, England have just put a ring on her finger and a bun in the oven. Where to start? Stiles released Ball (still running!) down the right, and he sent a first-time cross in to Hurst, who'd got ahead of Beckenbauer at the near post. Bringing the ball down, Hurst spun, lashed it over Tilkowski, and watched it ricochet off the underside of the crossbar and onto the ground. As it bounced up, Weber headed it away and looked to get on with business, but England players - and the crowd - started celebrating, bringing the game crashing to a halt. It's hard to tell how far over the line it was, if at all, but Hunt probably could've made sure; instead, he wheeled away with his arms in the air. Has a normally lethal poacher like Hunt turned down a World Cup final goal here? Uwe Seeler thinks so. But after a brief confab with his linesman, who looks for a moment like a murder witness who wishes he'd kept his eyes shut but then seems to signal decisively that the ball landed over the line, the referee gives England a third goal. This'll put a bit of juice back in the tank: Bobby Moore is 19 minutes from lifting the Jules Rimet at Wembley.

England v Scotland
Home Championship
Wembley, London, 15 April 1967

83 min: Since Lennox scored Scotland's second five minutes ago, Baxter has - and there's no other way to put this - simply been taking the piss. First he nicks the ball off Bobby Charlton's toe, as the midfielder shapes to shoot down the left, before raking an insouciant pass up the flank with the outside of his boot. Then he launches the ball straight up into the clouds, before half-volleying a back-heel straight to a team-mate. (Admittedly the second trick was performed when play was stopped for a throw, but you try that down the park.) Then down the left Law - who has been trying in vain to up the tempo in a search for more goals - gives in to Baxter's showmanship. He drops to strolling pace, letting the ball roll beside him for what seems like ages, in the manner of a man popping down the newsagents with his dog, before backheeling to Baxter. Slim Jim flicks the ball into the air and, as he takes his turn to perambulate down the wing, keeps it up there with his left peg - one, two, three, four - before breezily scooping it over three frozen England defenders and to the feet of Law on the left-hand corner of the box. The striker beats three challenges but can't find anyone with his low cross into the middle. Several points having been made during this passage of play, nobody in navy blue seem to care that much as England stream up the other end and...

84 min: GOAL!!! England 1-2 Scotland The limping Jack Charlton strokes home into the bottom-right corner after Jimmy Greaves cleaves the Scots wide open with a clever backheel of his own ...

Chelsea v Leeds United
FA Cup, final replay
Old Trafford, Manchester, 29 April 1970

42 min: Eddie Gray looks to turn Harris down the left. Chopper is having absolutely none of it, and whips Gray's standing leg from under him as he turns, chipping the Leeds winger into the air like a golfer splashing sand and ball from a bunker. Allan Clarke remonstrates with Harris, who affects an expression of benign amusement. Gray meanwhile holds his left knee, his face scrunched up in pain. As trainer Les Cocker bends Gray's leg up and down, Bremner comes in to hold his team-mate's hand, with a look of concern, like a mother taking her first-born to the dentist for the first time.

44 min: This is outrageous. Gray is still hobbling, down the left. He doesn't really want a pass from Giles, but he gets one anyway. He makes to hoick the ball immediately up the wing, with a view to taking himself out of the firing line, but it's to no avail: Hutchison comes in late, sliding in and whipping Gray into the air like a greasy pancake. So recently injured, Gray takes understandable exception, but then less understandably stamps down on his assailant's leg. So Hutchison springs up and punches Gray right on the tip of his front tail! Those are two sure-fire sendings off, right there, yet the referee does absolutely nothing and play goes on.

Brazil v Italy
World Cup, final
Azteca Stadium, Mexico City, 21 June 1970

86 min: GOAL! THIS IS BEYOND LUDICROUS! Brazil 4-1 Italy The substitute Juliano hares down the right, but Tostao takes the ball off him like candy from a baby who is suffering from heat exhaustion and altitude sickness (despite only being in his pram for 11 minutes). Tostao dispatches the ball back to Brito, who rolls it forward to Clodoaldo. The ball's clipped in a short-range triangle, first Pele, then Gerson, then back to Clodoaldo, who repeatedly drops and raises his shoulders like a laughing policeman, tying Rivera, Domenghini, De Sisti and Juliano up in knots. He strokes the ball wide left to Rivelino who, inside his own half, curls a pinpoint pass down the line to Jairzinho. Just ahead of the box, the striker cuts inside past Italian captain Facchetti, then clips the ball across Cera to Pele, facing goal in front of the D. Burgnich closes him down, but Tostao - who's made it all the way upfield after starting the move and is now behind Burgnich, also facing Pele - gives the King the eyebrows to the Brazilian right. Pele takes the hint and rolls a perfect ball out wide; it sits up, allowing Alberto to evade the despairing lunge of Rosato, who has fruitlessly attempted to come across and block, and skelp it into the bottom corner past Albertosi. Only two outfield Brazilians were not involved in that move - Everaldo and Piazza. With a beautiful symmetry, only two Italians, Mazzola and Riva, were completely out of the picture and can wash their hands of it.

AS Roma v Liverpool
European Cup, final
Stadio Olimpico, Rome, 30 May 1984

Penalty shoot-out: Roma* 2-3 Liverpool. GRAZIANI MISSES! The misses so far in this first-ever European Cup final shoot-out have been conventional cock-ups - both Steve Nicol and Bruno Conti blasting wildly over the bar under extreme pressure - but this clanger maps out new terrain. With Rush having just put his side 3-2 up, Roma need to score or it'll be match point to the Reds. Not exactly the time for anyone to play the giddy goat, but that's exactly what Grobbelaar does, jogging up to the goal with his hands hanging limply from the wrist like a slightly less sophisticated John Inman, his tongue lolling out like a thirsty Labrador, and his knees bending and juddering at all sorts of angles. He's not having a panic attack, though - it's all for show, and comic effect. Oh, and to put Graziani off. As Grobbelaar takes up his position on the line, he really ramps up the knee-knocking wobbly leg routine. Graziani crosses himself, looks to his left in a vain attempt to ignore the clowning keeper, takes a staccato run up - and lazily clips the ball onto the right-hand side of the bar and over. He's been totally psyched out here. Grobbelaar's soft spaghetti legs instantaneously develop a more al dente bite, as he races off on them at full pelt, upfield towards his team-mates, waving his arms around in glee. Liverpool are a kick away from their fourth European Cup.

Liverpool v Arsenal
Football League, First Division
Anfield, Liverpool, 26 May 1989

90+2 min: GOAL!!! Liverpool 0-2 Arsenal Oh. My. Word. Arsenal have just swept from one end of the pitch to the other in three passes and scored the goal that makes them First Division champions for the first time in 18 years. With milliseconds left on the clock, Barnes dawdles down the right and looks to torment Richardson, who's practically lame with cramp. But the stricken midfielder still somehow manages to pinch the ball off Digger's toes and tap it back to Lukic. The keeper throws it to Dixon, who launches it up field to Smith. The striker chests it down with his back to goal, turns and knocks it up and over the Liverpool defence. As Thomas attempts to pluck it out of the air with his right, the ball cannons off Nicol and back into his stride, leaving just Grobbelaar in front of him. "It's up for grabs now!" shrieks Brian Moore on ITV, as much in disbelief as to tell viewers anything. Thomas hasn't had long to shake off his earlier weak toe-poke that went straight at the keeper, but this time he dinks it calmly over Grobbelaar with the outside of his boot, as if absolutely nothing is riding on it. The Arsenal end is a delirious, writhing mass; the rest of Anfield is struck dumb. The impossible has happened.

England v West Germany
World Cup, semi-final
Delle Alpi, Turin, 4 July 1990

99 min: GAZZA'S BEEN BOOKED! Which means he'll miss the final. "Oh dear me," says Motson simply, understating the impact of the situation by several hundred exclamation marks. This is horrible. The ball at his feet, Gascoigne bounced off one German before steering away from another, but a heavy touch allowed Berthold the chance to step forward and pinch it. As he did so, Gazza came sliding in, left foot first, and sent him tumbling. Immediately Gascoigne put his hands in the air and rushed over to check on Berthold, lying prone while the German bench shouted the odds, but eventually the yellow card appeared and Gazza's face crumpled. Lineker takes one look at his teammate, who's juggling a full-on sob at the back of his throat like a hot potato, and signals to Bobby Robson, mouthing "Have a word with him." Never mind the football, we've an audience to a man's world falling apart here, and it's not nice.

Tottenham Hotspur v Arsenal
FA Cup, semi-final
Wembley, London, 14 April 1991

5 mins: ONE OF THE BEST FA CUP GOALS EVER! Tottenham Hotspur 1-0 Arsenal Gascoigne only had surgery a few weeks ago, he wasn't even supposed to be here, yet now, hand on heart, he's just scored one of the finest strikes you're ever likely to see. Spurs win a free kick 35, maybe even 40, yards out, bang in front of goal, and immediately Gascoigne places the ball with purpose. As you do, when you're pretty much solely responsible for your team's day out at Wembley. Still, Seaman doesn't seem to think it'll trouble him, and configures a half-hearted two-man wall as a precaution. (There's three bodies in it, if you count Kevin Campbell, who loiters unconvincingly nearby.) But Gazza absolutely leathers the ball, coaxing it into an improbable, supersonic arc through the gap and into the top right corner. Seaman might have brushed it with his fingertips, but crazies have got closer to the Pope: he was never saving that. Gascoigne hit it hard enough to burst his stitches! He's mobbed by his teammates as he runs to salute the delirious Spurs fans, while Terry Venables applauds politely. He's desperately trying to smother a gurning, gertcha grin.