In the small village of Felcsut, a story of football ambition unfolds.

Felcsut, just 28 miles from the vibrant heart of Budapest, houses a mere 2,000 residents yet proudly boasts a stadium with a capacity of nearly 4,000.

This isn’t just any stadium; with its slate-tiled roof and gleaming copper turrets, the architectural prowess displayed here elevates the visitor experience, bolstered by captivating lighting that illuminates the grandeur.

Nestled among the quaint village surroundings, the Pancho Arena symbolizes a colossal investment of over £10 million, designed as much as a tribute to Hungary’s rich footballing heritage as it is a forward-looking venture.

Long before Hungary’s resurgence at Euro 2024, the echo of its glorious past reverberates. Seventy years ago, on fields far from here, Hungary took on West Germany in a World Cup final that was to be remembered as one of football’s most bittersweet tales.

In what was then a fearsome era, Hungary thrashed the Germans 8-3 during the group stages, asserting their dominance. Expectations were sky-high, but the final in Bern told a different story; after racing to a 2-0 lead in a mere eight minutes, the Golden Team crumbled, ceding the match 3-2 and shattering a glorious unbeaten streak of 31 matches.

The aftermath saw the dissolution of the ‘Mighty Magyars,’ a team brimming with talent yet forever haunted by that fateful day, as many fled the regime following the brutal crackdown on the Hungarian Uprising in 1956, their careers scattering across Europe.

The crown jewel of this legendary squad, captain Ferenc Puskas, found his way to Real Madrid, forever known as ‘Pancho’—a name now immortalized in the very fabric of Hungary’s modern football culture.

At the center of today’s football revival stands Viktor Orban, Hungary’s Prime Minister, who holds deep-seated ties to the sport and the village of Felcsut.

First elected in 1998 and now the longest-serving leader in the EU, Orban has taken a decisive role in reshaping the country’s political landscape, ostentatiously embodying his vision of a new Hungary—a sentiment reflected in his declaration of “illiberal democracy” and a shift towards “Christian democracy”.

However, his regime has drawn scrutiny and skepticism, especially from the European Parliament, which labeled Hungary a “hybrid regime of electoral autocracy,” decrying systematic infringements of democratic principles.

Yet when it comes to the Pancho Arena, Orban’s pride is unmistakable.

“It’s art,” he proclaimed back in February 2017. “To build something simpler would have been easier, but this expresses how football intertwines with art and culture.”

Despite not having lived through Hungary’s golden age in football, Orban’s passion has been fueled by the legendary tales of the ‘Golden Team’ that echo in every corner of his childhood.

A talented player himself during his youth, Orban played for the prestigious Fehervar youth team before his path led to law and politics, propelled by the winds of change that swept Eastern Europe post-1989.

Once described as “quick on the ball,” Orban sensibly applied that agility to his political maneuverings, casually switching from the pitch to the political arena after electoral setbacks in 2002 and 2006.

In these moments of retreat, he found solace in Felcsut, inviting old friends to partake in spontaneous matches, eventually leading himself to found the Puskas Academy in 2007. Rumor has it that he even invited Arsene Wenger to the opening, only for the Arsenal boss to respectfully decline.

The Pancho Arena sprung to life in 2014 around the same time the Puskas Academy rose through the ranks, competing fiercely within Hungarian football’s elite.

But for Orban, football has transcended being a mere pastime; it has become a strategic tool wielded to cultivate influence among his allies, the Hungarian populace, and even broader circles, as business tycoons aligned with his regime expand their ownership across regional clubs.

“Football is Orban’s pet project,” asserted Marton Tompos of the opposition Momentum party. “For any aspiring mogul wanting to be in the inner circle, supporting your local team becomes the necessary tribute to the system.”

Orban’s reign has notably birthed the Tao programme, which allows corporations to offset contributions to sports clubs against their taxes, fundamentally altering the landscape of Hungarian football.

The ramifications have been profound since its inception in 2011.

“A complete infrastructural overhaul took place over the last decade,” noted Henrik Hegedus, head of data at Ferencvaros, the country’s most popular football club. “We’ve witnessed the construction of more than 20 stadiums and the renovation of over 1,000 pitches. Today, Hungary plays to sold-out crowds, with 60,000 fans showing up even for friendly matches.”

However, the distribution of these resources has raised serious questions. An estimated ¥923 billion Hungarian forints (approximately £2 billion) that would have contributed to government revenue has been redirected to sports clubs.

The Puskas Academy has been the uncontested winner in this reallocation, receiving an eye-watering ¥36.3 billion Hungarian forints (£78 million) over a decade, dwarfing even the second-highest recipient—Mezokovesd Zsory with only ¥552 million (£1.2 million).

A small club in a town of just 17,000, Mezokovesd has former tax chief Andras Tallai as its president, embodying the intimate ties between political power and sporting success.

The majority of the top clubs in Hungary are run or owned by Orban’s close associates, a fact that has raised eyebrows and ignited discussions about transparency.

Yet, Orban remains steadfast in his defense of Tao.

“It’s a success story,” he declared to *Nemzeti Sport* in December 2020. “This initiative has brought a flood of resources to sports and facilitated associations’ operations more effectively. Importantly, it has cultivated partnerships between business and sports entities—relationships that previously didn’t exist.”

“To regret investing in sports fields or in children playing sports is not a reasonable stance,” he concluded.

Presently, as we stand on the cusp of Euro 2024, the Hungarian national team—with approximately 50,000 fans cheering them on—seeks to reclaim its historical prestige on the continental stage. Among these fervent supporters are the Carpathian Brigade, Hungary’s notorious ultra group, leading chants and lighting flares, embodying the passion that once defined Hungarian football.

Yet alongside this enthusiasm lurks controversy; UEFA has repeatedly punished these fans for discriminatory behavior, although loopholes allowed a “behind-closed-doors” match against England to proceed with an audience.

Orban, however, has openly supported these fervent supporters. In a controversial moment during a friendly against the Republic of Ireland in 2021, when their players took a knee for racial justice, he accused them of “provoking” the crowd, drawing attention to a refrain popularized by his regime: “Hungarians kneel only before God, their homeland, and in marriage.”

The Carpathian Brigade, with its conflicting purpose, also harbours a faction dedicated to animal rescue, yet their more militant components champion a nationalistic rhetoric that can manifest quite forcefully.

This ultra group surfaced prominently again in opposition to political movements, such as blocking a Socialist Party MP from filing a referendum petition and physically intimidating environmental activists in Budapest.

The resurgence of the national team has been hard to miss. Hungary headed into Euro 2024 with an impressive unbeaten run of 14 matches, a feat that evokes nostalgia for a bygone era when Puskas and his compatriots dazzled on the grandest stages. With Dominik Szoboszlai, a genuine Premier League star leading the charge, hopes are high.

Yet, the Euros have proven challenging; the team has faced two deflating losses, the latest—a painful 2-0 defeat at the hands of Germany—silencing expectations.

In discussions amongst Orban’s media, Germany serves as a convenient symbol against the backdrop of an increasingly polarized narrative, defining the ‘decadent west’.

Beyond the matches, a larger social issue brews beneath the surface. The political stakes were apparent before Hungary’s match against Germany in Euro 2020, where UEFA barred Munich’s mayor from lighting the Allianz Arena in rainbow colors, a gesture opposing Hungary’s stringent anti-LGBTQ+ legislation.

With Hungary’s fiercely debated Child Protection Law conflating homosexuality with pedophilia, the context turned drastic when a German fan infiltrated the pitch, brandishing a rainbow flag during the Hungarian anthem, a poignant protest against the status quo.

The cultural discourse surrounding LGBTQ+ rights in Hungary is replete with contention. Goalkeeper Peter Gulacsi, previously with Liverpool and now at RB Leipzig, expressed his support for “rainbow families” just months prior to the Euros, creating ripples of debate.

“The more time I spend abroad or among people from different cultures, the more I realize the world is more colorful due to our differences,” he articulated. “Love, acceptance, and tolerance are paramount.”

In stark opposition, Zsolt Petry, a Hungarian goalkeeping coach at Hertha Berlin, echoed sentiments of a certain ideological bent, lamenting the “moral degradation” of Europe when responding to Gulacsi’s remarks, eventually resulting in his dismissal.

With Dominik Szoboszlai, Hungary’s most promising talent, now inadvertently embroiled in these cultural debates, criticism has surfaced surrounding his stance on social issues after taking the knee in England, contrasting with his choices during domestic matches.

At the heart of Hungary’s football renaissance lies an unresolved question: how much of the recent success is truly a byproduct of the millions invested by Orban’s government? While grassroots players enjoy enhanced facilities and development programs, prominent squad members hail from abroad, Daniel Orban and Callum Styles qualifying through heritage, while Loic Nego and Marton Dardai made connections through extended stays.

Ultimately, Italy’s Marco Rossi stands as the bedrock of this newfound prowess, orchestrating Hungary’s steady rise, while Orban’s strategic vision leverages symbols of national identity.

Orban’s fervor for football has not only reshaped landscapes but infused a new layer of nationalistic fervor into Hungarian identity, hinting at deeper socio-political narratives woven into the rich tapestry of football. The national stadium in Budapest, towering over the old Nepstadion, has become a monumental showcase, mirroring major European edifices like Bayern Munich’s Allianz Arena yet built at three-fold the expense.

During an otherwise mundane friendly match against Estonia in March 2023, the momentous atmosphere stood stark against an echoing refrain: “Down with Trianon.”

This chant, harkening back to the Trianon Treaty of 1920, poignantly underscores the ongoing cultural and territorial anguish—an evocative reminder of the nearly two-thirds of territory lost by Hungary after World War I.

The outcry resonates deeply with a populace that still feels the sting of historical grievances—one that has burgeoned in the light of contemporary conflicts like the invasion in Ukraine, stirring tensions over Hungary’s ethnic ties to regions lost long ago.

In a show of national pride, Orban donned a scarf emblazoned with Greater Hungary’s map while celebrating a former national star’s retirement, sending ripples across neighboring countries still housing sizeable Hungarian populations who view this as a tangible threat to their territorial claims.

For Hungary’s supporters, these actions transcend sport, articulating an inflexible narrative of national unity, further complicating the lines between football fandom and jingoistic nationalism.

Orban himself encapsulates the overlap, stating, “the essence of football is like the essence of politics” — a chilling assertion reflecting his adeptness in intertwining the two realms for political gain, using the game as a vessel to weave his ideological framework.

“Where the ball is now is visible to everyone—but the key question is: where will it be?” he muses, asserting the importance of foresight in both sports and governance.