Showing posts with label Azteca. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Azteca. Show all posts

Sunday, June 21, 2020

Mexico 70: Viva Brazil



The sand of the desert is sodden red
Red with the wreck of a square that broke
The Gatling’s jammed and the Colonel’s dead,
And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed his banks,
And England’s far and honour a name;
But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks:
‘Play up! Play up! And play the game!

Vitai Lmapada, Henry Newbolt

 In the late nineteenth century, Brazil stood as a dynamic and burgeoning power in South America, rich in natural resources and filled with potential. This vast and vibrant land, famed for its music and joyful spirit, became a significant point of interest for foreign powers seeking to expand their influence. Among them, the British Raj, with its vast empire spanning the globe, made its mark in Brazil, bringing with it not only trade and commerce but also cultural and sporting practices that would leave an indelible impact on the nation's identity.

In 1894, Charles Miller, a British-born man with a Brazilian mother of English descent, returned to Brazil. Armed with a deep appreciation for football—having honed his skills at Banister Court public school in Southampton, England—he carried with him two round objects that would soon change the course of Brazilian history: a football and a set of Hampshire FA Rules. These items, initially mere curiosities, would become the seeds of a cultural revolution, as Miller sought to introduce the sport to a land where the people’s passions were firmly entrenched in their own unique traditions.

Miller's early life in England was marked by his immersion in the world of football and cricket. At Southampton, he played for and against both Corinthians and St. Mary's (the precursor to Southampton FC), experiences that laid the foundation for his later endeavours. His name appeared in the 1891 English Census, recorded as a boarder at Millbrook School, a testament to his connection to the English sporting world. Yet, despite his English upbringing, Miller’s heart was drawn to Brazil, where he would eventually work to cultivate a love for football among the Brazilian people.

However, not everyone shared Miller’s vision. Graciliano Ramos, a prominent Brazilian intellectual, famously remarked that football would never take root in Brazil. He argued that the sport was an alien custom, one that did not fit the national character. “Football will not catch on here,” Ramos declared. “It is like borrowing clothes that do not fit. For a foreign custom to establish itself in another country, it must be in harmony with the people’s way of life, and we already have the corn straw ball game.” In essence, Ramos believed that Brazil’s cultural identity was too deeply rooted in its own traditions for football to gain a foothold.

Despite these doubts, Miller persevered. He was not just a passive observer of the game but an active participant in shaping its future in Brazil. His efforts culminated in the establishment of the São Paulo Athletic Club (SPAC) football team and the formation of the Liga Paulista, the first official football league in Brazil. These milestones marked the beginning of a new era, one in which football would become deeply intertwined with Brazil’s cultural fabric.

Miller’s role in the development of Brazilian football cannot be overstated. He was not merely a foreigner introducing an imported sport; he was a visionary who recognized the universal appeal of football, a game that transcended borders and united people across the globe. In his hands, football became more than just a pastime—it became a symbol of joy, unity, and national pride. Miller's influence helped ensure that the sport remained a source of harmony and celebration for the Brazilian people, a reflection of the nation’s zest for life.

Today, the Brazilian national football team, the Selecao, pays tribute to Miller’s pioneering spirit. His efforts laid the foundation for Brazil’s unparalleled success in the world of football, where the sport is not only a source of national pride but also a vital part of the country’s cultural identity. Charles Miller, the father of Brazilian football, remains an enduring symbol of the transformative power of sport, a testament to how a foreign custom, once thought to be incompatible with Brazil’s way of life, became an integral part of the nation’s soul.

A Tragedy to Inspire A Generation

In the early days of football’s expansion beyond Europe, Brazil found itself trailing behind the dominant powers of South America, namely Uruguay and Argentina. These two nations had established themselves as the titans of the continent, capable of challenging the European heavyweights—Italy, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Poland, Austria, Russia, and England. The sport, once a mere pastime, had evolved into an obsession, not just in Europe but across North and South America, Asia, and Africa. As football grew in stature, it began to shift from an informal activity to a professional pursuit, with the Olympic Games incorporating the sport to determine the world’s finest team.

Amid this burgeoning popularity, Jules Rimet, observing the unifying power of football, took the monumental step of establishing FIFA and launching the World Cup in 1930. Uruguay, with its rich footballing history, won the honour of hosting the first-ever tournament, which would go on to become known as "The Greatest Show on Earth." In the final, Uruguay faced Argentina in a fiercely contested match, ultimately emerging victorious. For Brazil, however, the tournament was a mere footnote in the history of the event. It was not until four years later, in Italy, that Brazil began to make its mark on the world stage, though it was still not considered a serious contender.

In 1938, the Brazilian national team, led by the brilliant Leonidas da Silva, captured the imagination of football fans across the globe. While Italy and Austria were the favourites to win, Brazil’s charismatic forward, Leonidas, whose skill and goal-scoring ability were unmatched, breathed new life into the team. The 1938 World Cup in France saw Brazil win the hearts of not just the French but the entire footballing world. Leonidas’ dazzling performances marked a turning point in Brazil’s footballing history, inspiring a generation of Brazilian players who would go on to redefine the sport.

By the time the 1950 World Cup arrived, Brazil had become a footballing powerhouse, and the expectations surrounding the team were immense. Brazil’s squad, which included luminaries like Ademir, Zizinho, Jair, Baltazar, Chico, Maneca, and Danilo, was a veritable "golden generation." Their innovative 3-2-3-2 formation, a tactical marvel, overwhelmed top teams like Spain and Sweden in the final round of the tournament. However, the most anticipated match of the World Cup was yet to come: Brazil’s encounter with Uruguay. A draw would be enough for Brazil to secure the title, but in one of the most heartbreaking moments in football history, Uruguay’s Alcides Ghiggia scored the decisive goal, shattering Brazil’s dreams and leaving an indelible scar on the nation’s collective psyche.

The 1950 World Cup final, often regarded as the true World Cup final, was a moment of national tragedy for Brazil. The so-called "Maracanazo," named after the Maracanã stadium in Rio de Janeiro where the match took place, marked the end of an era for Brazilian football. The golden team of 1950, with its dazzling skill and promise, was relegated to the annals of history, overshadowed by the crushing defeat. The loss was not just a sporting failure but a deep emotional wound for a nation that had poured its hopes into its footballing heroes.

In São Paulo, a young boy named Edson Arantes do Nascimento, later known to the world as Pelé, listened to the match on the radio with his father. He watched his father’s tears as the final whistle blew and Brazil’s hopes were dashed. It was in that moment of sorrow that Pelé made a solemn promise to his father: he would one day bring the World Cup home to Brazil. The promise was not just a personal one but a national vow to restore Brazil’s footballing pride.

Eight years later, in the 1958 World Cup in Sweden, Pelé, at just 17 years old, fulfilled his promise. Alongside footballing legends like Garrincha, Didi, Bellini, Mario Zagallo, Vavá, Nilton Santos, Djalma Santos, and Zito, Pelé led Brazil to their first-ever World Cup victory. The team’s triumph was a watershed moment in football history, as Brazil’s style of play—fluid, artistic, and attacking—captivated the world. The Selecao, as the Brazilian national team was known, became synonymous with footballing excellence, and their presence at the World Cup became an eagerly anticipated spectacle. Brazil’s footballing dominance was not just a national pride but a global phenomenon, with the demand for their matches growing exponentially worldwide.

From 1958 to 1966, Brazil’s footballing dominance seemed unassailable. The team hardly lost a match, and their reputation as the greatest footballing nation on earth was solidified. However, the 1966 World Cup in England brought a cruel and unexpected end to Brazil’s reign. In what was widely regarded as a catastrophe, Brazil was eliminated in the group stage, with their hopes of a third consecutive World Cup title dashed. The defeat was a wake-up call, and many believed that Brazil’s golden era had come to a premature end.

Yet, true to their resilient spirit, Brazil would regroup. The 1966 disaster became a catalyst for change, sparking a new era of innovation and determination. Brazil’s ability to bounce back from adversity and continue its legacy as a footballing superpower was a testament to the country’s unyielding love for the game and its enduring place in the global footballing pantheon.

Saldanha Leaves, Zagallo takes over

The 1964 Brazilian coup d'état marked a pivotal moment in the nation's history, a turbulent series of events that unfolded from March 31 to April 1, resulting in the overthrow of President João Goulart by factions within the Brazilian Armed Forces. This political upheaval set in motion a period of intense instability that reverberated throughout the country. The opposition to the new regime faced dire consequences, with many political figures either exiled or silenced, and the nation as a whole grappling with the consequences of authoritarian rule. In the realm of football, this turbulence also had its impact. Brazil's footballing culture, once thriving and unifying, faced a period of stagnation, with the legendary players of the previous era—Garrincha, Bellini, Zito, and Djalma Santos—passing the zenith of their careers, leaving a void that needed to be filled by a new generation of talent.


However, the transition from one golden age to another was far from seamless. Brazil’s footballing establishment found itself at a crossroads, with the need to groom new players and develop a cohesive team that could maintain the country’s dominance on the world stage. In this climate of uncertainty, the Brazilian Football Confederation (CBF) appointed João Saldanha as the manager of the national team, tasking him with leading Brazil through the South American Qualifying rounds for the 1970 World Cup. It is widely believed that the appointment was influenced by President João Havelange’s desire to placate the media. By placing a journalist at the helm, the government hoped that the press, which had been critical of the national team’s performance, would be less inclined to attack the team if one of their own was in charge.

Under Saldanha’s leadership, Brazil’s football team took on a fearsome, almost beastly persona, and their performances on the field reflected that intensity. The Selecao, as they were known, went unbeaten during this period, earning the moniker "Saldanha’s Beast" for their dominant and aggressive style of play. Saldanha’s approach, however, was not without its controversies. His temperament was volatile, and his arrogance and combative nature quickly drew the ire of both the media and football critics. His clashes with the press became increasingly public, culminating in a particularly infamous confrontation with Dorival Yustrich, the coach of Flamengo. Saldanha, in a fit of rage, reportedly confronted Yustrich while brandishing a revolver, a dramatic incident that only served to deepen his reputation as a volatile and unpredictable figure.

The tensions between Saldanha and the political establishment further complicated his tenure. He became embroiled in a dispute with President Emílio Garrastazu Médici, particularly over the selection of players. Médici, who had his own political agenda, reportedly pressured Saldanha to include certain players in the squad, including striker Dario. Saldanha, known for his stubbornness and unwillingness to bow to political influence, famously retorted that he had his own suggestions for the President’s cabinet appointments. This defiance further alienated him from the powers that be, and his relationship with the CBF began to deteriorate. Saldanha’s criticisms of Pelé, whom he called “myopic,” only served to isolate him further from the team’s star player and the footballing establishment.

As the 1970 World Cup loomed, tensions reached a boiling point. The assistant manager, unable to tolerate Saldanha’s temperament any longer, resigned from his post, leaving the national team in a precarious situation. With just 75 days remaining before the tournament and Brazil drawn into what was widely regarded as the "Group of Death," the CBF had little choice but to sack Saldanha. The decision to part ways with the manager was a reflection of the broader instability that had plagued Brazilian football during this transitional period.

In the aftermath of Saldanha’s dismissal, the CBF turned to another former player to take the reins. Dino Sani, a member of the 1958 World Cup-winning team, was initially approached for the role but declined the offer. The CBF then considered Otto Gloria, who had coached Portugal to a fourth-place finish in the 1966 World Cup, but ultimately, the job went to Mario Zagallo. At just 38 years old, Zagallo was a relative newcomer to coaching, though he was already a legend in Brazilian football, having played in the 1958 and 1962 World Cup-winning teams as a left-winger.

Zagallo’s appointment marked the beginning of a new era for Brazilian football. Reflecting on that fateful day, Zagallo recounted the moment when the CBF officials arrived at his training session with Botafogo and informed him that he had been chosen to lead the Selecao. “It was everything I wanted,” Zagallo recalled to FIFA.com. “It was around 4 o’clock in the afternoon. They took me home, I grabbed some clothes, and off we went. It was what I wanted the most in my life.” The transition from Saldanha to Zagallo was almost poetic—when Saldanha had taken over the Selecao the previous year, Zagallo had taken over his radio show, and now, as Saldanha was ousted, Zagallo was there to take his place on the bench.

Zagallo’s appointment would prove to be a turning point in Brazil’s footballing fortunes. Under his leadership, Brazil would go on to win the 1970 World Cup in Mexico, a triumph that solidified their place as the dominant force in global football. The transition from Saldanha’s tempestuous reign to Zagallo’s calm and calculated stewardship epitomized the resilience of Brazilian football—a team that, despite political upheaval and internal strife, could always regroup and rise to the occasion.

Zagallo Starts Working

Upon taking charge of the Brazilian national team, Mario Zagallo was determined to restore the essence of Brazilian football—freedom, joy, and fluidity. His approach was one of liberation, encouraging his players to play as friends as if they were enjoying a casual game on the streets of São Paulo or Rio de Janeiro. This ethos of camaraderie and spontaneous play became the hallmark of the 1970 World Cup-winning side. However, Zagallo’s tactical genius also lay in his ability to make strategic changes that would enhance the team's cohesion and effectiveness on the field.

One of his first observations was the abundance of players in his squad who were accustomed to playing as the creative focal points of their respective club teams. These players, each a "number 10" in their own right, included the likes of Pelé, Gerson, Rivellino, Tostão, and Jairzinho. Under Saldanha, Rivellino had been excluded from the starting lineup, a decision that Zagallo was quick to rectify. He was determined to fit all of these creative forces into one cohesive unit, a decision that would ultimately define Brazil's success in Mexico.

Zagallo himself acknowledged the boldness of his vision, telling FIFA.com, “When I took over the Selecao, I had it in my head that’s what I was going to do. The changes I made were moving Piazza to play as a centre-back, bringing Clodoaldo into the team, and managing to field all those No.10s: Rivellino, Tostão, Pelé, Jairzinho, and Gerson. They said it would be impossible, in such a short time, to make them all gel, but we won the World Cup.” His tactical acumen was evident in the way he restructured the team, making the most of the players’ individual brilliance while ensuring they worked in harmony.

Zagallo’s defensive setup was designed to provide the freedom needed for his attacking players to flourish. He moved Wilson Piazza, traditionally a midfielder, into a central defensive role, allowing him to act as a ball-playing defender—an early precursor to the modern-day "sweeper" or "libero." Piazza, alongside the more traditional Brito, formed a solid backbone for the team, enabling the attack to flow without the burden of defensive concerns. Carlos Alberto, the right-back, was given the license to push forward, his attacking instincts unleashed with the support of Everaldo, a more reserved left-back, and the sturdy presence of Brito and Piazza.

In midfield, Zagallo opted for a more dynamic configuration. Clodoaldo was deployed as a ball-winning central midfielder, not a destructive enforcer like Zito or Dunga, but rather a player who could break up opposition attacks and quickly transition to offensive play. Alongside him, Gerson was given the role of a "Regista," a deep-lying playmaker who could orchestrate the tempo of the game. Gerson’s exceptional vision and passing ability allowed him to pull the strings from the centre of the park, a role that had previously been filled by Didi in the 1958 and 1962 World Cup-winning teams. His left foot was a thing of beauty, capable of threading intricate passes or launching powerful shots from a distance.

On the left wing, Rivellino, though playing slightly out of position, provided a unique solution to a defensive weakness on that flank. His narrow positioning and disciplined defensive work allowed him to contribute to both the attack and the defence, closing the gap between midfield and defence. Rivellino’s left foot, though not as artistically inclined as Gerson’s, possessed a raw power capable of dismantling opposition defences. His "flip-flap" dribble became a signature move, a trick that left defenders in his wake and opened up space for his teammates.

Jairzinho, nicknamed "Furacão" (Hurricane), was a player whose explosive pace and acceleration made him a constant threat on the right wing. His positioning, at times almost as a second striker, allowed him to exploit space behind opposing defences. Though he was a creator at club level, Jairzinho’s primary role in Zagallo’s system was as a ferocious right-winger, tasked with linking up with Carlos Alberto and tormenting the opposition’s left flank.

Zagallo’s most daring tactical innovation was the deployment of Tostão as a "false number 9." While the concept of a false nine would later become synonymous with Pep Guardiola’s Barcelona and Spain, Zagallo’s use of this strategy in 1970 was groundbreaking. Tostão, a highly intelligent and adaptable player, would drop deep into midfield to receive the ball, creating space for his strike partner and pulling defenders out of position. His ability to link up play and create opportunities, combined with his eye for goal, made him a perfect fit for this role.

At the heart of it all, however, was Pelé. In Mexico, Pelé was not merely a goal-scoring forward or an inside-out winger as he had been in 1958. Zagallo allowed Pelé the freedom to drop deep into midfield, join the defence when necessary, and orchestrate the play alongside Gerson. Pelé’s movement was fluid, his interchanges with Tostão and Jairzinho were seamless, and his vision enabled him to both create and finish chances. He was, in every sense, the leader of the team, a player who could dictate the flow of the game and make the difference in crucial moments. In what would be his final World Cup, Pelé proved once again that he was the greatest of them all, leading Brazil to a third World Cup victory.

Despite the brilliance of Brazil’s outfield players, one question mark loomed over the team: the goalkeeper. Félix, often considered the weak link in the team, was not held in the same esteem as the outfield stars. Yet, in a squad brimming with talent and attacking firepower, Félix’s shortcomings were rendered almost irrelevant. The attacking prowess of the team, led by Pelé and his creative partners, ensured that Brazil’s defensive vulnerabilities were seldom exposed.

Zagallo’s 1970 team is often regarded as one of the greatest football teams in history, a side that combined individual brilliance with collective unity, and tactical innovation with the spirit of Brazilian football. They played with freedom, joy, and a sense of camaraderie that became synonymous with the beautiful game. In the end, Zagallo’s vision was realized, and Brazil’s third World Cup victory was a testament to the power of teamwork, creativity, and the indomitable spirit of Brazilian football.

The Formation

 The Brazilian national team’s tactical evolution in the 1960s and early 1970s was a fascinating study in adaptation and innovation. The foundation of Brazil’s success in the 1958 World Cup was built on the 4-2-4 formation, a system that balanced offensive dynamism with defensive solidity. This formation, which had been a hallmark of the team’s attacking prowess, would later undergo a significant shift under the guidance of Mario Zagallo, particularly when Pelé was injured during the 1970 World Cup. The injury forced Zagallo to adjust the team’s structure, moving from the fluid 4-2-4 to a more flexible 4-3-3 formation, which allowed for greater tactical fluidity and provided Pelé the freedom to operate in various roles across the pitch.


The shift from 4-2-4 to 4-3-3 was not a random decision but part of a broader evolution in Brazilian football that had been taking place for years. In the 1950s, Brazilian football thinkers such as Flávio Costa and Zezé Moreira were already contemplating the future of tactical systems. Costa, in particular, introduced what he called the "diagonal system" in an article published in O Cruzeiro, which he later argued was a precursor to the 4-2-4. Costa's vision of football emphasized the importance of balance between attack and defence. His mantra, "defend well so that you can attack even better," encapsulated his belief that a team must first be solid at the back to build the foundation for more potent attacking play. This was an idea rooted in the French maxim "reculer pour mieux sauter"—taking a step back to leap forward more effectively.


This emphasis on balance between defence and attack was not unique to Brazil. It was influenced by the Hungarian style of play, which had emerged in the early 1950s, particularly after Hungary’s triumph in the 1952 Olympic Games in Helsinki. The Hungarian "Mighty Magyars" were a team known for their fluidity, technical brilliance, and tactical innovation, and their influence on Brazilian football thinkers was evident. However, while the Hungarian approach was grounded in a more rigid tactical structure, the Brazilian vision was more fluid and improvisational, reflecting the cultural ethos of Brazilian football.


The 4-2-4 system, which had been a natural progression from the earlier WM formation, embodied this flexibility and creativity. It demanded a high level of technical skill and mental maturity from its players, as well as the ability to adapt to the flow of the game. The system saw the defenders lying flat at the back, with one central midfielder remaining static and the other moving dynamically to support the attack. The front four—comprising two wingers and two forwards—engaged in a fluid interchange of play, which allowed for constant movement and the creation of space in the opposition’s defensive line. This attacking setup was complemented by a defensive structure that allowed for a balance between solidity and creativity.

As the game evolved, so did the tactical demands of the formation. The 4-2-4 was not a rigid system but one that allowed for tactical flexibility. It could transform into a 4-3-3 when the team needed to solidify its midfield and control the tempo of the game, or into a 4-4-2 when a more traditional, balanced approach was required. The adaptability of the formation was key to Brazil’s success, as it allowed Zagallo to respond to the specific demands of each match, whether it required a more defensive posture or an all-out attacking approach.

One of the most notable features of the 4-2-4 system was its capacity for fluid transitions. As the game progressed, one of the centre-backs would often be given the freedom to push forward, acting as a ball-playing centre-half who could link up with the midfield and initiate attacks. This was a precursor to the modern "sweeper" or "libero" role, which would become more prominent in European football in the following decades. This movement of the centre-back into midfield created a more dynamic and unpredictable attacking force, as it allowed the team to overload the midfield and stretch the opposition’s defence.

In attack, the formation was equally innovative. Pelé, the team’s talisman, was often the focal point of Brazil’s offensive play, but the system allowed him to drop deep and link up with the midfield, creating space for his teammates. On the left, Rivellino played a key role in building the attack, often dropping deeper to collect the ball and initiate play from the midfield. On the right, Jairzinho, known for his explosive pace and direct running, would cut inside and attack the goal, while Tostão, playing as a more traditional centre-forward, acted as the spearhead of the attack. The interplay between these attacking players was fluid and creative, with constant movement and positional rotations that kept the opposition guessing.

The 4-2-4 system, while not widely used in modern football, was a product of its time. It reflected the increased pace and technical sophistication of the game in the 1960s and 1970s, as well as Brazil’s unique footballing philosophy, which valued creativity, flair, and freedom of expression. The system allowed for tactical flexibility and could be adapted to suit different situations, whether Brazil needed to defend a lead or chase a goal. It was a formation that embodied the spirit of Brazilian football—unpredictable, exciting, and always focused on attacking play.

Ultimately, the 4-2-4 system was a key part of Brazil’s World Cup triumph in 1970, a victory that showcased the team’s technical brilliance, tactical innovation, and the harmonious interplay between its individual stars. While the system evolved over time, its legacy remains a testament to the ingenuity of Brazilian football and its ability to adapt to the changing demands of the game.

The Mexican Adventure

When Brazil arrived in Mexico for the 1970 World Cup, the atmosphere surrounding the team was far from one of optimism. At home, political unrest and the oppressive atmosphere of the military regime had cast a long shadow over the nation’s hopes for a third title. Rivellino, one of Brazil’s key players, admitted in a candid reflection: “We honestly never imagined that.” The team's recent disappointing performance in 1966, compounded by the tough group they had been drawn into—featuring defending champions England, and formidable European sides like Czechoslovakia and Romania—fueled skepticism about Brazil’s chances. Even with the presence of Pelé and other world-class players, there was uncertainty about whether the team could truly gel into a cohesive unit. “Did we have a team?” Rivellino recalled, expressing the doubt that hung over Brazil’s prospects.

The draw had placed Brazil in a daunting position, and the expectations from fans and critics were minimal. Few gave them a chance against the European heavyweights in their group. But when Brazil took to the field in Guadalajara, the Selecao defied the pessimism. Their opening match against Czechoslovakia saw them fall behind early, but Rivellino’s equalizer brought them back into the game. Soon, Pelé and Jairzinho ensured that the Czechs were overwhelmed, and Brazil emerged with a convincing 4-1 victory—a result that no one had anticipated. It was a crucial moment that set the tone for the tournament and marked the beginning of Brazil’s surge toward the title.

Then came the much-anticipated clash between Brazil and England. The match was more than just a game—it was a battle of footballing philosophies, a clash between Brazil’s flair and England’s structured, disciplined approach. On a sweltering afternoon, Brazil and England produced a classic encounter that would be studied for years by coaches and analysts. In the end, Brazil triumphed 1-0, and the team’s confidence soared. Rivellino recalled the significance of the victory: “The first match against Czechoslovakia was very important. It calmed us down. That’s why I say that one of the most important goals of my career was the first against them. Before we knew it, we were winning 4-1. It gave us lots of confidence.” The match against England, however, was a different beast. Rivellino described it as “the most difficult game of the finals for us,” acknowledging the strength of the English team. But what made Brazil special, he said, was their ability to improve with each game, culminating in a team that could have beaten any opponent, even an all-star team.

Zagallo, reflecting on the tournament’s challenges, singled out the match against Uruguay as the toughest. Brazil had gone 1-0 down, and the tension was palpable. The coach recalled thinking about making a tactical change, moving Rivellino into central midfield and bringing on Paulo César Caju. But as if on cue, Clodoaldo’s equalizer just before halftime spared the team from a potentially disastrous situation. Zagallo, ever the perfectionist, was furious at the team’s performance up until that point. “I went mad at the whole team,” he said, emphasizing that they were not playing to their potential. It was a moment of frustration that, paradoxically, helped galvanize the team for the challenges ahead.

Brazil’s journey continued with narrow victories over Romania and Peru, but it was their semifinal clash against Uruguay that would go down in history. The match was a microcosm of Brazil’s attacking brilliance, with Jairzinho’s iconic goal—a lightning-fast 11-second counter-attack from the edge of his own half—becoming one of the most memorable moments of the tournament. The speed and precision of the move, culminating in a powerful finish, was a testament to Brazil’s ability to strike with devastating efficiency.

The final at Azteca Stadium was the culmination of Brazil’s journey, a match that would forever define the legacy of the 1970 World Cup. Despite the presence of a formidable Italian defence, Brazil’s attacking brilliance overwhelmed them. The crowd, overwhelmingly supportive of the Selecao, created an electric atmosphere that felt like a home game for Brazil. The chants of “Brazil! Brazil!” rang through the stadium, a testament to the team’s popularity and the excitement surrounding their play.

In the 17th minute, Pelé gave Brazil the lead with a header that showcased the precision of their training. “We used to work on that one in training,” Pelé explained, reflecting on the move that had been rehearsed countless times. “Not the whole move, obviously, but definitely the positioning.” The goal came from a well-executed throw-in, with Pelé pulling away from his marker and finding space in the box to score. But Italy responded with a mistake from Clodoaldo, allowing Bonensegna to equalize. However, Brazil’s response was swift and decisive. Gerson’s powerful shot put Brazil back in the lead, and Pelé assisted Jairzinho for the third goal, cementing the latter’s place in history as the first player to score in every match of a World Cup.

Then came the most iconic moment of all—Carlos Alberto’s thunderous strike to seal Brazil’s 4-1 victory. In an interview with FourFourTwo, Carlos Alberto recalled the buildup to the goal: “I noticed there could be a chance seconds after we stopped Italy and started that counter.” The move had been carefully orchestrated, with Zagallo having instructed the team to exploit Italy’s left flank. As Clodoaldo dribbled past four Italian players with dazzling footwork, the Brazilian attackers, including Pelé, Tostão, and Jairzinho, pulled their markers to the left, creating space on the right. Carlos Alberto surged forward, anticipating the moment when Jairzinho would cut the ball back to him. The result was a perfect strike, with the ball bouncing just before he hit it, allowing him to unleash a shot that would go down in history as one of the greatest goals ever scored in a World Cup final.

The goal was the culmination of a brilliant move involving four players in just four seconds. Clodoaldo’s dazzling dribbling, combined with the precise positioning of the attacking players, demonstrated Brazil’s technical superiority and tactical intelligence. It was a goal that encapsulated the essence of Brazilian football—flair, creativity, and teamwork at its finest. For Carlos Alberto, it was a moment he would cherish forever, a goal that defined his career and sealed Brazil’s place in footballing history.

Conclusion:

Brazil’s triumph in the 1970 World Cup was not just a victory; it was the culmination of a footballing revolution that would forever alter the course of the sport. With their third World Cup title, Brazil secured the Jules Rimet Trophy permanently, a fitting reward for a team whose blend of artistry, technique, and joy on the field had captivated the world. Pelé, the undisputed star of the tournament, was rightfully hailed as the best player in the World Cup, but the true brilliance of Brazil’s success lay not just in the individual brilliance of their players, but in the harmonious collective effort that defined their play.

As the final whistle blew, the Azteca Stadium erupted into a frenzy of celebration. The Brazilian fans, overcome with emotion, rushed onto the pitch, tearing the shirts off the players’ backs as cherished mementoes of a historic achievement. The fervour was so intense that it led to a stampede-like situation, with Rivellino, one of Brazil’s key players, suffering from hypoxia and requiring medical attention. This moment of madness was a testament to the unparalleled adoration and excitement that Brazil’s footballing prowess had stirred. It was a spectacle never before witnessed—an unrestrained outpouring of passion for a team that had seamlessly blended the scientific method with the free-flowing beauty of art, technique with joy, and music with every move they made.

This was a team that, throughout the tournament, found strength not only in their collective talent but in their unity of spirit. They prayed together, not just for victory, but for the safety and well-being of each player. Their prayers were answered as Brazil’s stars were spared from injury, allowing them to unleash their full potential and etch their names into footballing folklore. For Pelé, that unforgettable afternoon in Azteca was a testament to the fact that Brazil’s greatness was greater than the sum of its parts. It was a team effort in every sense, with players selflessly working for one another, and the collective spirit propelling them to greatness.

One of the most striking aspects of Brazil’s World Cup campaign was the unselfishness displayed in their attacking play. Some of their most memorable goals were the result of intricate team movements, where individual brilliance gave way to collective creativity. A perfect example of this was Jairzinho’s goal against England, where Tostão, despite being in a prime position to shoot, chose instead to pass to his teammate, demonstrating a rare selflessness that epitomized the spirit of the team. These moments of unselfishness, of players prioritizing the success of the team over personal glory, were emblematic of Brazil’s approach to football—a game of beauty, harmony, and mutual respect.

Brazil’s attacking prowess was reflected in their remarkable goal tally of 19, the second-highest total by a World Cup-winning team, trailing only West Germany’s 25 goals in 1954. Pelé, with his four goals and six assists, was directly involved in over half of Brazil’s goals, a remarkable achievement that underscored his central role in the team’s success. His ability to both score and create opportunities for others was unparalleled, and his six assists remain the most by any player in a single World Cup edition. No player has matched this feat since, with Robert Gadocha, Pierre Littbarski, Diego Maradona, and Thomas Hassler all registering five assists, but none were able to surpass Pelé’s total.

When Carlos Alberto lifted the World Cup, it was a moment of profound significance, not just for Brazil, but for the history of football itself. In that moment, many reflected on the painful lessons of 1966, when Brazil’s failure on the world stage had been a bitter disappointment. Yet, it was that very defeat that had ignited the fire within Brazil’s footballing soul, propelling them to rise from the ashes and deliver a performance that would go down as the greatest in World Cup history. The Brazil team of 1970, with its blend of artistry, intelligence, and technical mastery, was a footballing utopia—a team that transcended the boundaries of the game and became the standard by which all others would be measured.

As the world celebrated Brazil’s triumph, one could not help but think of Charles Miller, the man whose vision and passion had introduced football to Brazil. On that afternoon at Azteca, he would have been filled with pride, knowing that the beautiful game he had brought to Brazil had reached its zenith. The 1970 World Cup team was not just a symbol of national pride; it was a testament to the enduring legacy of Brazil’s love affair with football—a legacy that continues to inspire and captivate the world to this day.

Viva Brazil!

Thank You 
Faisal Caesar 

Wednesday, June 17, 2020

Clash Of The Titans: Italy vs. Germany - The Match of The Century



Defining the “Match of the Century” is no simple task. Football’s rich history is brimming with encounters that have captivated audiences, delivered heart-stopping drama, and etched themselves into the memories of fans and critics alike. The term itself invites debate, as every fan carries their own cherished list of unforgettable matches. Yet, among these myriad spectacles, a few rise above the rest, not merely for their entertainment value but for their enduring legacy in the annals of the sport.

In 2007, the renowned website WorldSoccer.com published a list of the greatest football matches of all time, a collection that spanned decades and celebrated the sport’s finest moments. While the list was comprehensive, football’s ceaseless evolution ensured that even after 2007, the game continued to deliver encounters worthy of the title. The echoes of Liverpool’s miraculous comeback against Barcelona at Anfield in 2019, Lucas Moura’s stunning heroics against Ajax in the same Champions League season, Cristiano Ronaldo’s breathtaking hat-trick against Spain in the 2018 World Cup, and Belgium’s tactical masterclass to overcome Brazil in Kazan still resonate. Matches like Jose Mourinho’s Inter dismantling Pep Guardiola’s tiki-taka in 2010, the Netherlands’ ruthless demolition of defending champions Spain in 2014, Germany’s 7-1 humiliation of Brazil in the same tournament, and Uruguay’s dramatic clash with Ghana in 2010 remain etched in football folklore.

Among these modern classics, however, one match transcends time and remains a benchmark for excellence, drama, and emotion—a match that encapsulates the very soul of football. This is the semifinal of the 1970 FIFA World Cup between Italy and West Germany, played under the blazing sun and shifting shadows of Mexico City’s Estadio Azteca. Widely regarded as the greatest match ever played, it topped WorldSoccer.com’s list and continues to be revered by critics and fans across generations.

Before that historic day, encounters like Hungary’s tactical masterclass over England at Wembley in 1953, Uruguay’s upset of Brazil in 1950, and West Germany’s stunning victory over Hungary in the 1954 World Cup final were celebrated as the sport’s finest spectacles. Yet, on June 17, 1970, Italy and West Germany redefined the possibilities of football, crafting a narrative so compelling that it reshaped the discourse around the game’s greatest moments.

As football writer Gary Thacker observed, “There’s a certain wisdom that comes only with age and experience—by observing quietly, absorbing, and understanding.” The Estadio Azteca, situated in the Santa Úrsula suburb of Mexico City, embodies this wisdom. As an architectural marvel and a hallowed ground of football, it has hosted some of the sport’s most iconic moments. Being the first venue to host two World Cup finals, the Azteca has seen the likes of Pelé, Maradona, and countless other legends grace its pitch. When the Azteca speaks of greatness, it does so with the authority of a historian, and we are compelled to listen.

Outside the stadium stands a monument bearing a plaque that reads: 

"The Azteca Stadium pays homage to the national teams of Italy and Germany, who starred in the 1970 FIFA World Cup, the ‘Game of the Century,’ June 17, 1970."

This inscription does not commemorate the dazzling final where Brazil’s Pele and his teammates reclaimed the soul of football with their mesmerizing "Ginga" style, defeating Italy 4-1. Instead, it honours the semifinal—a match that, for 90 minutes, seemed destined to end in a routine 1-0 victory for Italy, as their famed "catenaccio" defence stifled West Germany’s creativity. However, it was what unfolded after those 90 minutes that elevated this game into the pantheon of football’s greatest spectacles.

In the extra time that followed, the match transformed into a theatre of unrelenting drama, where players defied exhaustion and tactics dissolved into pure emotion. It was a battle of wills, where every goal seemed to rewrite destiny and every moment carried the weight of history. It is no wonder that the Azteca, with its wisdom of age and experience, immortalized this clash as the “Partido del Siglo”—the Game of the Century.

The Italian Renaissance - Rise of Catenaccio

On a sombre day in Middlesbrough, July 19, 1966, Pak Doo-ik’s solitary strike for North Korea sent shockwaves through the footballing world, reducing the once-mighty Italian football to a shadow of its former self. The defeat was more than just a blemish on the Azzurri’s record—it symbolized the nadir of a footballing nation still grappling with the aftershocks of World War II. For decades, Italy had reigned supreme as the undisputed champion of the “Greatest Show on Earth,” but the war’s devastation marked the end of their glory days. The tragedies that followed compounded their decline, and the humiliation at the hands of a relatively unknown North Korean side left Italian football in tatters.

In the aftermath of this ignominy, the responsibility of restoring Italy’s footballing pride fell to Ferruccio Valcareggi. Tasked with rebuilding a nation’s shattered confidence, Valcareggi inherited a team and a system that had to rise from the ashes. Initially sharing managerial duties with the legendary Helenio Herrera after Edmondo Fabbri’s dismissal in 1966, Valcareggi assumed full control by 1967, determined to guide Italy back to the summit of world football.

Central to Italy’s resurgence was “catenaccio”, a tactical philosophy that came to define an era of Italian football. Translating to “door-bolt,” Catenaccio emphasized defensive organization, discipline, and impenetrability. It was a system born of necessity, forged in adversity, and perfected in response to Italy’s struggles. With a fortified backline and a counterattacking ethos, the Azzurri sought to nullify their opponents' strengths while capitalizing on their weaknesses.

The fruits of this meticulous approach were first evident in the 1968 European Championship, held on Italian soil. In those days, the tournament’s final stages featured only four teams in a knockout format, and Italy’s path to the final was as dramatic as it was unconventional. Facing the formidable Soviet Union in the semifinal, the two sides were locked in a gruelling stalemate after extra time. Exhausted and drenched in sweat, the players exchanged handshakes in a display of mutual respect, but the match’s outcome would be decided not by skill or strategy, but by the flip of a coin.

In a moment as arbitrary as it was historic, Italy’s captain called correctly, and the Azzurri advanced to the final. There, they faced Yugoslavia in a tense encounter that ended 1-1, necessitating a replay—a rarity in modern football. In the rematch, buoyed by the support of a fervent Roman crowd, Italy emerged victorious, reclaiming their place among Europe’s elite.

The triumph in Euro 1968 was far more than a trophy—it was a rebirth. It restored a nation’s belief in its footballing identity and provided a foundation for future success. The victory exorcised the ghosts of Middlesbrough and imbued the Azzurri with a newfound resilience, one that would serve them well in the years to come.

By the time the 1970 World Cup arrived, Italy had transformed from a team defined by its failures into a force to be reckoned with. The lessons learned from their struggles, combined with the tactical discipline of catenaccio, enabled them to overcome even the most daunting challenges, including the famed mental fortitude of West Germany in the iconic semifinal at Mexico City’s Estadio Azteca.

The Euro 1968 victory was more than a milestone—it was the spark that reignited the Azzurri’s flame, setting them on a path that would redefine Italian football for generations to come.

Germany, The Favourites

The Germans entered the contest as true Goliaths, a team brimming with match-winners and exuding an aura of invincibility. At the heart of their dominance was Gerd Müller, a relentless goal-scoring machine whose uncanny ability to find the back of the net—often in the most critical moments—had already left a trail of devastation in his wake. England had felt the full force of Müller’s brilliance in León, as he orchestrated their dethroning, while Morocco, Bulgaria, and Peru were systematically dismantled by the sheer power and precision of Germany’s footballing juggernaut.

This was a team led by the imperious Franz Beckenbauer, the Kaiser, whose elegance and authority dictated the tempo of the game. Alongside him were Uwe Seeler, a talismanic forward with unyielding determination; Jürgen Grabowski, a master of creativity and flair; Karl-Heinz Schnellinger, the defensive stalwart; and Wolfgang Overath, whose vision and composure in midfield were unmatched. Together, they embodied a brand of football that was as relentless as it was awe-inspiring—a perfect storm of attacking intent and indomitable spirit.

Against such an arsenal of talent, Italy’s catenaccio would face its ultimate test. The Germans’ relentless forward momentum and unyielding resolve would probe every weakness in the Azzurri’s fabled defensive system. Yet, Italy was far from defenceless. With the likes of Gigi Riva, the powerful and prolific striker; Sandro Mazzola, the creative maestro; and Gianni Rivera, the elegant playmaker known as the “Golden Boy,” the Italians possessed weapons of their own. Their presence ensured that Germany’s backline could not afford even a moment’s respite.

This clash was not merely a battle of systems or styles; it was a collision of titans, where every pass, every tackle, and every moment of brilliance carried the weight of history.

The Match Begins – Italy Takes A Surprise Lead

 As the match began, the oppressive heat of Mexico and the weight of the occasion seemed to smother both teams. The stakes were palpable, and neither side was willing to risk an early misstep. The game unfolded cautiously, with tight defences and measured passes dictating the tempo. Even the typically raucous spectators at the Estadio Azteca were unusually subdued, their energy seemingly sapped by the sweltering sun. The ball itself appeared sluggish, prompting Sepp Maier to call for its replacement—a rare gesture that underscored the strange, stifling atmosphere.

Yet, beneath this facade of lethargy, a different rhythm was taking shape—a deceptive calm before the storm. Italy, ever the masters of tactical nuance, used the sluggish pace to their advantage, lulling the Germans into a false sense of control before striking with precision.

In the eighth minute, the Azzurri broke free of the pseudo-rhythm. Roberto Boninsegna, with an almost telepathic understanding of Luigi Riva’s movement, exchanged a brilliant one-two that sliced through the German defence like a scalpel. Boninsegna’s final touch was nothing short of sublime—a thunderous half-volley from 16 meters out that left Sepp Maier frozen, a mere spectator to its trajectory. The ball crashed into the net, and the scoreboard told the tale:

Italy 1, West Germany 0.

The seeds of a classic were sown, and the game began to shed its early hesitancy, unfurling into the spectacle it was destined to become.

Germany Fights Back

The Germans, unbowed by the early setback, responded with immediate intent. At the heart of their resurgence was Franz Beckenbauer, the libero, whose elegance and intelligence transcended his defensive role. First, a perfectly weighted pass into space narrowly evaded Gerd Müller’s reach. Moments later, Beckenbauer embarked on a surging 40-yard run, only to be halted by a contentious challenge from Giacinto Facchetti, Italy’s indomitable captain and one of the finest defenders the game has ever known.

Germany seized control, dictating the tempo with their relentless attacking thrusts. Yet, the Italian defence, a formidable wall of discipline and grit, held firm against the onslaught. Leading the charge for Germany was their tireless skipper, Uwe Seeler, a veteran appearing in his fourth consecutive World Cup. Seeler’s aerial prowess posed a constant threat, his uncanny ability to meet almost every free kick with his head keeping the Italians on edge during the opening half-hour.

Gradually, Müller, the predatory striker, began to make his presence felt. A curling cross from Wolfgang Overath narrowly eluded his control, allowing Mario Bertini to intervene. Minutes later, Müller’s 20-yard half-volley on the turn drew a sharp save from Italy’s keeper, Enrico Albertosi. Bertini, controversially chosen over Dino Zoff by Ferruccio Valcareggi, faced mounting pressure but proved equal to the task, denying a venomous strike from Jürgen Grabowski with a fingertip save that pushed the ball around the post.

The Second Half: The Bravery of Beckenbauer

The second half began with a crescendo of action. Seeler, released by a clever Beckenbauer pass, was thwarted in a one-on-one duel with Albertosi. Grabowski, too, saw his effort smothered by the resolute Italian keeper. Germany’s frustrations deepened when an under-hit backpass from Bertini gifted Müller a chance. The striker pounced, dispossessing Albertosi before Grabowski laid the ball back for Overath. His thunderous shot, destined for glory, cannoned off the crossbar, leaving the Germans in disbelief.

In the 67th minute, Beckenbauer charged forward again, his determination unyielding. Pierluigi Cera’s desperate challenge brought him down on the edge of the box—a moment that seemed destined for a penalty. But referee Arturo Yamasaki ruled otherwise, awarding only a free kick outside the area. As German players surrounded the referee in protest, Beckenbauer lay on the ground, his right shoulder dislocated. With no substitutions left, the Kaiser refused to leave the field. His arm immobilized in a makeshift sling, he continued to defend and orchestrate attacks, an enduring image of resilience and courage in World Cup lore.

Tension mounted with every passing second. Siegfried Held unleashed a volley that beat Albertosi but was heroically cleared off the line by Roberto Rosato. Seeler and Müller both squandered chances, their frustration mirrored by the mounting anxiety in the stands.

Germany’s Last-Minute Equalizer

Time ticked away, and Italy seemed poised to reach the final. Yet, as they had demonstrated against England in the quarterfinals, the Germans were a team that simply refused to accept defeat. In the dying moments of injury time, Grabowski delivered a pinpoint cross from the left. Rising above the melee, defender Karl-Heinz Schnellinger met the ball at the penalty spot, sending it past Albertosi with unerring precision.

The Italian players stood frozen, their heads in their hands, as the Germans erupted in celebration. The match, already a gripping spectacle, was far from over. As the whistle blew to signal the end of regular time, the stage was set for an epic showdown in extra time.

The greatest 30 minutes of all time

 Franz Beckenbauer, his arm immobilized in a sling, set the tone for the first half of extra time with an indomitable display of courage and determination. The injury seemed to do little to deter his attacking instincts; whenever he touched the ball, he surged forward, embodying the unyielding spirit of his team. Helmut Schön’s men, buoyed by their captain’s heroics, pressed with relentless vigour, their belief palpable.

The breakthrough came swiftly. Gerd Müller, ever the predator, capitalized on a careless back pass from Fabrizio Poletti. With Albertosi rushing to close the angle, Müller’s quick reaction poked the ball home, sending the packed Azteca Stadium into rapturous celebration. 

Italy 1, West Germany 2.

But the German euphoria was short-lived. Just nine minutes into extra time, Gianni Rivera delivered a curling free kick that was only partially cleared by Siegfried Held. The ball fell to the advancing Tarcisio Burgnich, who struck with clinical precision from close range, leaving Sepp Maier with no chance.

Italy 2, West Germany 2.

As the first period of extra time neared its conclusion, Italy seized the momentum. Angelo Domenghini’s pinpoint cross from the left found the ever-reliable Luigi Riva. With a burst of pace and an unerring finish, Riva slotted the ball past Maier, prompting commentator Nando Martellini’s iconic cry: “Riva, Riva, Riiiivvvaaaa!” It was Riva’s 22nd goal in just 21 appearances for the Azzurri—a testament to his brilliance.

Italy 3, West Germany 2.

Second Period of Extra Time: A Feverish Climax

The second period of extra time began with the game at a frenetic pace, both sides pushing forward as if their legs weren’t weighed down by the gruelling Mexican sun. The Germans, undeterred, struck back. Uwe Seeler, with his impeccable aerial prowess, flicked a header into the path of Müller. Ever the opportunist, Müller steered the ball home, scoring his 10th goal of the tournament and etching his name into history.

Italy 3, West Germany 3.

Gianni Rivera, stationed at the far post, could only hold his head in disbelief. The drama, however, was far from over. From the restart, Roberto Boninsegna raced down the left flank, reaching the byline before cutting the ball back into the box. Rivera, who had entered the game as a substitute in the 60th minute, finally silenced his critics. With composure and precision, he swept the ball past Maier, restoring Italy’s lead in the blink of an eye.

Italy 4, West Germany 3

The Final Whistle: Triumph and Exhaustion

The game reached its fever pitch as the clock ticked down. Both sides, utterly spent, moved as if in slow motion. The Italians, masters of game management, employed every trick in the book. They stayed down after tackles, sent the ball high into the stands, and contested every referee decision with fervour.

When the final whistle blew, the Italians collapsed in relief and triumph. After 32 years, they were back in the World Cup final. Their celebrated catenaccio system, so often criticized for its defensive rigidity, had withstood the relentless German onslaught. Against all odds, they had overcome the Goliaths of football in what would forever be remembered as the “Match of the Century.”

Conclusion

At the final whistle, the players collapsed into each other’s arms, their bodies betraying the sheer exhaustion of a battle that transcended sport. Moments later, many sank to the ground, drained yet fulfilled, as if the distinction between victory and defeat had blurred in the face of their collective achievement.

Both teams had not only competed but enriched the essence of football itself. They understood the magnitude of what they had created—a spectacle that would echo through the annals of the sport.

In the aftermath, Uwe Seeler, ever the statesman of the game, reflected with characteristic grace: “If we had to play in the final against Brazil after our extra-time games against England and Italy, we would lose by five. This way, we get to go home as the happy heroes in defeat.” His words captured the bittersweet pride of a team that had given everything and, in doing so, earned the world’s admiration.

The 100,000 spectators at the Azteca Stadium rose to honour them, their applause a tribute to the valour and artistry displayed on the pitch. Across the globe, a captivated television audience marvelled at the enduring spirit of the game.

Even today, the warriors of the “Match of the Century” are celebrated—heroes who turned a semifinal into a timeless masterpiece.

Thank You
Faisal Caesar