Russia's last flirtation with greatness, under the collective might of the Soviet Union, has barely received a whisper of acknowledgement on the streets of Moscow. The last memorable side assembled by Valeriy Lobanovsky has been wantonly ignored for the sole reason that the vast majority of the team, and coaching staff, simply swapped their Dynamo Kiev colours for the famous blood-red jerseys emblazoned with the CCCP insignia.

National fervour has disregarded the feats of the Ukrainian' Soviet side of 1988 but Lobanovsky's pioneering techniques have had more influence on Guus Hiddink's side than many passionate Muscovites would care to acknowledge. It was in the late 1970s that the bulbous Lobanovsky ordered his first computer and, in doing so, triggered the suspicion of the KGB.

In an era when computers were roughly the same size as a Soviet satellite state, Lobanovsky's cloak-and-dagger search for a heaving processor occurred in a country where any form of external communication was deemed to be worthy of deep contempt and paranoia. His grand plan was soon revealed: Lobanovsky sought to create the perfect football team by marrying the seemingly alien concepts of sport and science.

It was the precursor to the elaborate Prozone system that is every top-class manager's best friend; detailing exact distances covered by every player and highlighting strengths, weaknesses and dietary deficiencies. Lobanovsky complemented his computer stats with his favourite game, blindfolded five-a-side, and determined the theory that collective speed and telepathic understanding could obliterate the most skilful opposition.

Lobanovsky's vision, rather ironically, was to evolve the Dutch system of total football. "I don't like players having positions," he once said, to much consternation "There is no such thing as a striker, a midfielder, a defender. There are only footballers and they should be able to do everything on the pitch."

In Alexei Mikhailitchenko, Lobanovsky created his "perfect footballer"; the player who man-marked Ruud Gullit in the Euro 88 final while simultaneously fulfilling the USSR's playmaking role. That he never achieved the same level of attainment when separated from Lobanovsky, at Sampdoria and Rangers, exemplified the influence exerted over his players. It also invited rumours of doping that were never proved. Fast-forward two decades from the Soviets' defeat to the Netherlands and Hiddink has employed a similarly elaborate system to overhaul years of corrosion and outdated practices.

"He is a winner," said his assistant, Igor Korneev, one of the few Russian footballers to enjoy a prolonged career in western Europe, with Espanyol, Barcelona, Feyenoord and NAC Breda. "When you have such a coach, it rubs off on the players. First of all he commands respect. He does that with the quality of his training and the precision of his details. He makes it easy for people to understand him.

"There was criticism of the federation for appointing a foreign coach but I think he has won over everyone now by the way he has transformed our team. He has brought in the right people and the team have responded."

The "right people" includes Raymond Verheijen, the fitness coach who has long been a travelling companion of Hiddink's, including his spells in charge of the Netherlands and South Korea.

"I have developed a philosophy and a working method that says, instead of developing fitness to play the game, we play the game in order to develop fitness," said Verheijen, unwittingly doffing his cap to the old ways of Lobanovsky.

"The only thing the Russia players did before the finals was play football; doing different kinds of football exercises. We then took the players' fitness details before the tournament started and we knew that, from a physical point of view, they had taken a giant step forward. So I'm not surprised we've reached the semi-finals."

Roman Pavlyuchenko's results have been the most startling. He lost four kilograms during preparations and has been transformed from a rather heavy-legged centre forward into a "now less static" and more graceful operator.

Just as Lobanovsky insisted on a regular intake of carbohydrates, and rather dubious "power shakes", Hiddink is equally fussy at meal time. "After the Sweden game, we arrived at the hotel at 2am and he insisted on all the players eating their carbohydrates before they went to bed, even if they weren't hungry," said Verheijen.

Andy Roxburgh attributed Russia's dismantling of the Netherlands 3-1 in part to the Premier League's relative infancy, having begun in March. " It doesn't matter when your season ends or starts," said Verheijen dismissively. "The question is, who was the last team to beat a solid Dutch side so comprehensively? I'm a Dutchman and I don't even know."

Hiddink's approach has helped make prized assets of Andrei Arshavin and Pavlyuchenko. In the immediate aftermath of independence, Korneev was one of the few from the first wave of adventurers to succeed in western Europe. Igor Belanov, a former European player of the year, Oleg Blokhin, Mikhailitchenko, Oleg Kuznetsov and Vasiliy Rats all shone for the USSR in the 1980s but they uniformally failed to make a significant impact when they left the received much-sought-after international clearance.

"Every case is different and it is difficult to compare eras," said Korneev. "The Russia of the early 1990s is vastly different to the Russia of today, so culturally it is not the same situation these guys are facing if they leave. It may be easier to adapt to the rest of Europe now than it was before. Europe is now more open to Russian people. It is difficult to say what would happen if they left but wherever they go they will still be talented players."

Whether they will continue to flourish without Hiddink's guiding influence is another matter. Lobanovsky's pupils did not, after all.