Globe: Cheering for Pele and his pals
Post
Globe and Mail, Thursday June 15, 2006, Cheering for Pele and his pals, Ricardo Sternberg
As a 10-year-old glued to my radio in Rio, I listened spellbound as the samba kings of soccer won their first World Cup.
When Brazil won its first World Cup -- in Sweden in 1958 -- I was living in Rio and was a few months shy of being 10. At one level, my memory of that cup is of a radio and of its yellowed dial. In our house in Brazil there was no TV and only that one very important radio.
I was the only one interested in sports in my family and, as far as I remember, I listened to the 1958 games by myself. The delusion of the fanatic fan is that his or her attention is crucial to the team. Never mind that the team was in Sweden and I was in Rio. Were my attention to waver, were I to miss the broadcast of one of the games, defeat was certain.
There had not been great expectations of victory and I do not recall the feverish climate that now takes over Rio at every World Cup, especially on days when Brazil plays. In my room, I listened and I stared at that radio. I stared as if by staring hard enough I could see the pitch in Sweden. (And thought I did.)
I have only vague memories of the games leading to the final, but of the final itself I have a sharp memory of the very light in that back room on that day. Sweden scored very early in the game and I came close to tears. The street wisdom was that if the Swedes scored first they would lock into a defensive position and Brazil would surely lose. But minutes later, Vava, on a cross from Garrincha, evened the score.
At this goal and all the others that followed I would run out of my room into the street, where others had also abandoned their radios to scream in solidarity, "Gol! Gol! Gol!" before running back to our solitary listening.
The first time I played Trivial Pursuit I was given the question "Who is Edson Arantes do Nascimento?" Easy question for any Brazilian: the great Pele. The Black Pearl. The King. Pele was only 17 and went to Sweden as a reserve. He would score a total of six goals, the most for a Brazilian player in that cup but less than half scored by the top scorer, the Frenchman, Fontaine, with 13 goals.
Pele was, no doubt, the great revelation of the cup but by no means the only star in the team. The majestic Didi, the wily Vava and the defenders Bellini and Nilton Santos come to mind. (Bellini's name would later that year be given to a utility post placed too close to the train rails. When the perennially overcrowded trains going to and from the suburbs with people hanging on the outside would pass by "Bellini," one or two passengers would be left on the ground).
And then there was the brilliant Mane Garrincha. Garrincha, who had deformed legs, the left one bent inwards, the other slightly shorter and curved outwards, was a soccer genius. His handicap (ha!) totally confused his opponents. A superb dribbler, he was also master of the tactical cross. It is said that the team psychologist, who assigned him a very low IQ, had also thought him too immature to play. As evidence he had pointed to a pre-cup game in Italy, when Garrincha had dribbled through the entire defence and then, faced with an empty goal, waited until a new defender appeared, dribbled past him and only then scored the goal.
Brazil never lost a game when Garrincha and Pele played together. From then on there would be a Garrincha versus Pele argument. (Beatles or Rolling Stones?) Pele has had a long, successful career both on and off the field. Beset by alcoholism, Garrincha would die in penury at the age of 49. But before his downward spiral into addiction, it was Garrincha who led the team to victory when Pele got hurt and sat out most of the 1962 World Cup.
With Vava's first goal, the 1958 final was tied. Garrincha and Vava would play the exact pas de deux again and Brazil went ahead 2-1. Then Pele scored. Then Zagalo scored. The Swedes scored with some 10 minutes left in the second half. And then, icing on the cake, Pele scored in the last minute of play. At the end of the game, all the neighbours poured into the street: The Jules Rimet trophy was ours.
Our street had prepared for victory by making a very large hot-air lantern out of green and yellow silk paper. We gathered and cut the score (5-2) in gold numbers, gluing them to a little cardboard plaque that hung from the bottom of the lantern. The lantern was lit, wobbled as it filled up with warm air and then slowly began to rise, carrying the golden score away from our street to the stars.
Some time in the future, I probably will not remember any of this, will not recognize my kids, will forget who I am. But thanks to a song that celebrated that first championship, I think I will still remember the 11 players who represented Brazil that afternoon; their names in my head like some beautiful mantra: "Gilmar, De Sordi, Bellini, Zito, Orlando, Nilton Santos, Garrincha, Didi, Vava, Pele e Zagalo."
As a 10-year-old glued to my radio in Rio, I listened spellbound as the samba kings of soccer won their first World Cup.
When Brazil won its first World Cup -- in Sweden in 1958 -- I was living in Rio and was a few months shy of being 10. At one level, my memory of that cup is of a radio and of its yellowed dial. In our house in Brazil there was no TV and only that one very important radio.
I was the only one interested in sports in my family and, as far as I remember, I listened to the 1958 games by myself. The delusion of the fanatic fan is that his or her attention is crucial to the team. Never mind that the team was in Sweden and I was in Rio. Were my attention to waver, were I to miss the broadcast of one of the games, defeat was certain.
There had not been great expectations of victory and I do not recall the feverish climate that now takes over Rio at every World Cup, especially on days when Brazil plays. In my room, I listened and I stared at that radio. I stared as if by staring hard enough I could see the pitch in Sweden. (And thought I did.)
I have only vague memories of the games leading to the final, but of the final itself I have a sharp memory of the very light in that back room on that day. Sweden scored very early in the game and I came close to tears. The street wisdom was that if the Swedes scored first they would lock into a defensive position and Brazil would surely lose. But minutes later, Vava, on a cross from Garrincha, evened the score.
At this goal and all the others that followed I would run out of my room into the street, where others had also abandoned their radios to scream in solidarity, "Gol! Gol! Gol!" before running back to our solitary listening.
The first time I played Trivial Pursuit I was given the question "Who is Edson Arantes do Nascimento?" Easy question for any Brazilian: the great Pele. The Black Pearl. The King. Pele was only 17 and went to Sweden as a reserve. He would score a total of six goals, the most for a Brazilian player in that cup but less than half scored by the top scorer, the Frenchman, Fontaine, with 13 goals.
Pele was, no doubt, the great revelation of the cup but by no means the only star in the team. The majestic Didi, the wily Vava and the defenders Bellini and Nilton Santos come to mind. (Bellini's name would later that year be given to a utility post placed too close to the train rails. When the perennially overcrowded trains going to and from the suburbs with people hanging on the outside would pass by "Bellini," one or two passengers would be left on the ground).
And then there was the brilliant Mane Garrincha. Garrincha, who had deformed legs, the left one bent inwards, the other slightly shorter and curved outwards, was a soccer genius. His handicap (ha!) totally confused his opponents. A superb dribbler, he was also master of the tactical cross. It is said that the team psychologist, who assigned him a very low IQ, had also thought him too immature to play. As evidence he had pointed to a pre-cup game in Italy, when Garrincha had dribbled through the entire defence and then, faced with an empty goal, waited until a new defender appeared, dribbled past him and only then scored the goal.
Brazil never lost a game when Garrincha and Pele played together. From then on there would be a Garrincha versus Pele argument. (Beatles or Rolling Stones?) Pele has had a long, successful career both on and off the field. Beset by alcoholism, Garrincha would die in penury at the age of 49. But before his downward spiral into addiction, it was Garrincha who led the team to victory when Pele got hurt and sat out most of the 1962 World Cup.
With Vava's first goal, the 1958 final was tied. Garrincha and Vava would play the exact pas de deux again and Brazil went ahead 2-1. Then Pele scored. Then Zagalo scored. The Swedes scored with some 10 minutes left in the second half. And then, icing on the cake, Pele scored in the last minute of play. At the end of the game, all the neighbours poured into the street: The Jules Rimet trophy was ours.
Our street had prepared for victory by making a very large hot-air lantern out of green and yellow silk paper. We gathered and cut the score (5-2) in gold numbers, gluing them to a little cardboard plaque that hung from the bottom of the lantern. The lantern was lit, wobbled as it filled up with warm air and then slowly began to rise, carrying the golden score away from our street to the stars.
Some time in the future, I probably will not remember any of this, will not recognize my kids, will forget who I am. But thanks to a song that celebrated that first championship, I think I will still remember the 11 players who represented Brazil that afternoon; their names in my head like some beautiful mantra: "Gilmar, De Sordi, Bellini, Zito, Orlando, Nilton Santos, Garrincha, Didi, Vava, Pele e Zagalo."
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