Rivelino’s 1970 story The moustachioed hero regales Brazil’s stunning World Cup win
Brazil’s revered heroes of Mexico 70 conquered the world for a third time with their glittering brand of brilliance – and no shortage of japes. Rivelino remembers life within the greatest international team ever assembled
WINNING WAS SO EXCITING, I PASSED OUT AFTER THE F IN AL WHISTLE WE PRODUCED FOOTBALL PERFECTION
Brazilians are a little bit radical when it comes to the World Cup. Second place is worth nothing to them – it’s either the title or failure. Fifty years on, our team from 1970 is still rated by many around the globe as the best that has ever played the game. But as insane as this may sound, our squad left for Mexico with low expectations back home. Unlike our people, however, I was so confident that I booked my wedding for one week after the final.
Their scepticism could be explained for two main reasons. Firstly, the draw back in January that year had put us in a very tough group with Czechoslovakia, reigning world champions England and Romania. On top of that, less than three months before we travelled to Mexico, our coach Joao Saldanha – previously a well- known journalist – had been sacked and replaced by Mario Zagallo, a two- time world champion as a player. But with Zagallo in charge, the team clicked.
In 1969, Saldanha had used two brilliant sides, Botafogo and Santos, as the base of our national team; it was even nicknamed ‘ Saldanha’s Beasts’ thanks to a quote of his. He had a particular way of seeing the game and stuck to it right until the end of his spell: Jairzinho and Edu were his favourite wingers in a 4- 2- 4 formation. Playing for Corinthians, I was left on the bench and known as the ‘ golden reserve’ by Saldanha, but I had great respect for him. We secured a spot at the World Cup by winning all of our qualifiers, but played badly in the warm- up matches.
Criticism of the coach grew, and even the president [ military dictator Emilio Garrastazu Medici] advised a change. Because of that, a public argument erupted and Saldanha’s position [ he was also a member of Brazil’s then- illegal Communist Party] soon became untenable.
So Zagallo took charge. He had a different approach and it benefited my career greatly. He quite liked playing 4- 3- 3 with the idea of a false winger – a role he’d played himself at the 1958 and 1962 World Cups. Out of the blue, he decided to play me there. I can’t deny, though, that the backing of the people and positive press in my favour might have influenced his decision.
Everything changed in our last friendly before the World Cup, against Austria at the Maracana. We trained beforehand, but no one knew the starting line- up. Admildo Chirol, our strength and conditioning coach, then walked past and whispered that Zagallo was about to speak with me. A funny thing is that Edu, our best player during the qualifiers and one of my best friends in football, had come over to me after Zagallo was unveiled as the new manager and said, ‘ I won’t play any longer – the new system is going to kill me’. And it did. I, his best mate, ended up replacing him in the team.
Chirol’s whisper became reality when Zagallo invited me for a chat. ‘ What do you want from me?’ I asked him. ‘ I can’t play out wide on the left wing like Edu does – that isn’t my position’.
The advantage I had, though, was that Gerson was not an all- action type of midfielder; on the contrary, he was much more of a thinker and organiser who read the game superbly. That left me with a gap on the inside through the left diagonal to play in.
‘ I just ask of you one thing,’ Zagallo said to me. ‘ As soon as we lose possession, you have to help reshape the midfield with Clodoaldo and Gerson’. His message was clear, and I went to my room thinking how playing against Austria would be the biggest game of my life. Would I even be on the plane to Mexico if I failed?
But God was very good to me. I played well, scored our winning goal as we beat Austria 1- 0, and was awarded the man of the match prize. I was in.
When we arrived in Mexico, I had starter status under Zagallo and our preparations for the tournament there were incredible. We spent nearly a month in Guanajuato getting used to the altitude, because it was more than 6,500 feet above sea level. That tiring training regime really did work. If you watch our games back, you’ll see we were so fit that we played even better in the second halves of matches.
The atmosphere in the stadiums was great and we felt so welcome by the Mexican supporters, who backed us after their own team lost 4- 1 to Italy in the quarter- finals. The local press even gave a name to my powerful shots – one of my career trademarks. I was born with that ability. When I played with my older brother as a child, he used to beg, ‘ Don’t shoot too hard!’ Once, I accidentally struck a ball into a friend’s
“I WAS BORN WITH THE ‘ ATOMIC KICK’ – WHEN I PLAYED WITH MY BROTHER HE USED TO BEG, ‘ DON’T SHOOT T00 HARD’”
face and he passed out. The Mexican journalists later nicknamed it the ‘ atomic kick’, which stayed with me until my last game as a footballer.
In Guanajuato, we stayed in a castle – it was massive and there were even scorpions. Every night before going to bed, we had to look around our rooms and under the bed to make sure nothing creepy was there. It wasn’t like the luxurious facilities players enjoy now.
Then came the day when I pranked our king, Pele. I purchased a fake coral snake, knowing he absolutely hated them. After the team dinner, I snuck into his room, hid it under a pillow and went back to my room. I told [ goalkeeper] Ado, my room- mate, what I’d done and he replied, concerned, ‘ Man, imagine if something happens to him?!’ If something did happen to Pele I would be a dead man, so I went back to his room – but there he was, playing the guitar. As soon as I left, he screamed, ‘ AAARRRGGGHHH!’ Fortunately, the next day he was OK, laid- back and easy- going as usual.
I never saw O Rei – the King; I only call him that – complaining about anything. Sometimes it was frustrating. Come on, does this guy never
moan? If he, the best player the planet has ever seen, had no ego and privileges, how could any of us complain? The King was our role model on and off the pitch. Even though he knew the amazing talent he had, he didn’t demand the ball just because of that. He was a team player.
To play alongside Pele was the easiest thing on Earth. I’m sure there won’t be another player capable of doing what he could do on a pitch; God was very generous and gave him many qualities. If Carlos Alberto was our captain because of his attitude and behaviour, then Pele led us technically. He didn’t need to speak much – he spoke with his feet.
Before every match, he’d have a lie down and sleep for 15 minutes. Back then, we took our own gear to the stadiums in a huge bag: boots, shin pads... all of our kit. Pele just put his on the dressing room bench, resting his head on it with both legs on the wall. Everyone whispered, ‘ Let him rest there – no one wakes up the King!’
Gerson was also a leader, though, because of his incredible ability to read the game. Within five minutes he understood what was going on, and would talk to Clodoaldo and me – those who played close to him – about how we should position ourselves.
The most important goal of my career came in our World Cup opener against Czechoslovakia. It’s up there for several reasons. To begin with, there was that traditional first game anxiety; we were 1- 0 down inside 11 minutes and our next group game was against England, the world champions. In circumstances like that, bad things start to go through your mind. But I was fortunate enough to equalise from a set- piece on the edge of the penalty box – an atomic kick! I was already respected for my free- kicks, and this one was from exactly where I liked to take them. I never had much of a run- up to shoot, so most keepers thought I would go over the wall. Jairzinho and Tostao tried to block the view of the Czechoslovakia keeper, Ivo Viktor, and I aimed to his side. Once he stepped to the left and tried to come back, he was wrong- footed and couldn’t save it. We eventually won 4- 1 after three second- half goals.
To bring you back behind the scenes, one of the big surprises I had in Mexico was when the Army Brigadier Major Jeronimo Bastos called me and said, ‘ The president wants to speak to you’. ‘ What president?’ I asked him. ‘ President Medici’. I ended up talking to him after every match of that World Cup until the semi- finals! It was just like having a chat with a supporter: ‘ Congratulations!’, ‘ What a game!’, ‘ Come on, let’s win the next one!’ I don’t know if he did the same with any other players. We were under a dictatorship, but he never imposed anything on me over the phone or suggested a victory would generate political advantage for his government. He simply behaved like an average fan and never mixed things up.
I don’t like to mix football with politics – I’m an anti- politics person generally, to be honest. I went to Mexico to play football, to represent my country, and obviously I wanted to become a champion and make the people of my country very happy. We knew what football meant to Brazilians. We did the best we could, and if that benefited X, Y or Z, then it wasn’t my business. What mattered most for me is what I did out on the pitch.
Our second match, against England, was the toughest of the whole tournament. Anything could have happened that day in Guadalajara, and it could have gone either way. England had such a brilliant team: Bobby Charlton, Bobby Moore and Gordon Banks, while Francis Lee was a tricky player. He should have been sent off after kicking our keeper Felix in the face, though. Even Carlos Alberto, our gentle captain, said, ‘ Someone has to give him some back, because I can’t. Pele, it’s you!’ Yet Carlos did and also should have been sent off, but the referee let it slide. Jairzinho, who scored in every game of the World Cup, saved us in the second half and we won 1- 0.
Among all of England’s stars, it was Charlton who I admired most – he had great technique, made things look really easy and dictated his side’s tempo. During the game, he dribbled past Clodoaldo and I went straight to foul him, but he was so fast that he had already gone past me. I wanted to kick him so badly, but it was a double shame for me – I sprained my ankle. I had to bandage it at half- time to keep playing, and Zagallo stopped me from facing Romania so I could fully recover.
And what about the moment with Pele and Banks? Oh my God. Only two geniuses could have produced something like that. Banks thought as quickly as Pele did. That save was out of this world.
Back then, England were still a technical team who knew how to play football. But in the second half, Colin Bell and Jeff Astle – two tall guys – came on and crosses went into our box. There was one huge chance when the ball fortunately dropped to Astle’s feet, and he fired it wide. If he’d had a header, it could have been totally different.
Following our 3- 2 victory against Romania in the third group game – a match that had two goals from Pele and another from Jairzinho – we stayed in Guadalajara to take on the greatest ever Peru side in the quarter- finals. They had incredible players like Teofilo Cubillas, Hector Chumpitaz, Pedro Pablo Leon, Julio Baylon and Alberto Gallardo, and were coached by one of my childhood heroes because of the beautiful way he kicked a ball – Didi, who’d won the World Cup twice with Brazil as a player in 1958 and 1962. A few years later, he would become my manager at Fluminense.
It was a tough clash because they had good technique and passed the ball well, but I got the opening goal after 11 minutes. Pele crossed, the defender didn’t clear the ball well, and Tostao cut it back for me to shoot with the outside of my foot on the edge of the box. Tostao also scored twice, Jairzinho got another goal and we won 4- 2.
With Uruguay around the corner in the semi- finals, the 1950 ghosts resurfaced. It was so wearing for me that when I spoke to the Brazilian press, I ended up saying, ‘ What do you want me to do? Go on the pitch thinking about what happened in 1950?’ I was only four years old back then, when Uruguay won the decisive match which earned them the World Cup, and didn’t even know what football was. Obviously I knew about that game, but couldn’t let it get into my mind.
It was another very difficult game. Uruguay were in a period of good momentum and had a strong team. We conceded the first goal after 19 minutes; Felix was expecting a strong shot from Luis Cubilla, but it was a weak angled strike with his shin that went in the far corner. Our equaliser just before half- time was key for us. Clodoaldo went forward, then Tostao drifted wide and played an astonishing through- ball back to him – it was so precise that it seemed like he did it using his hands. In the second half we controlled the match, then came from behind to lead through Jairzinho. With a minute left, I got our third goal on the counter- attack after an assist from Pele.
Believe it or not, the final was actually the easiest match we played in the tournament. Many people claim the Italians were tired because they’d played extra time against West Germany in the semis. But no:
Brazil made everything easy. It was entirely on our own merit. With all respect to their good team, if we’d played Italy another five times, we would have thrashed them five times. Our last goal best defined what that team was; the icing on the cake. We produced football perfection. Nine of our players touched the ball, and all Italy could do was watch.
Tostao tracked back to regain possession, Clodoaldo did a Garrincha and went past four men in midfield, then gave the ball to me because I was free and Italy marked man to man. I received it while still in our half of the pitch and played a well- timed pass to Jairzinho on the left. On the opposite side, Carlos Alberto was storming upfront freely, as his man hadn’t followed him. When Pele got the ball, he didn’t even have to look where Carlos was coming from. He simply turned his foot and passed the ball. Golaço! I still get goosebumps thinking about it. That strike, to make it 4- 1, was the perfect ending.
I have to confess something, though. Winning the World Cup was so exciting that I passed out after the final whistle, but I recovered very quickly. Back in the dressing room, Pele exploded: ‘ I’m alive! I’m alive! I’m alive!’ The press had put lots of pressure on him, to the point when they said he was getting on a bit. After the game, he couldn’t hold it in. In my opinion, that World Cup was his best. In 1958 he started on the bench and became a starter during the tournament, then in 1962 he got injured and in 1966 Brazil didn’t progress far.
I can’t put into words the affection and respect I have for the King – our friendship has only grown stronger over time. Almost a year ago, I underwent spine surgery. Someone told him about it, and he sent me a video joking, ‘ Oh, Riva – I wish you all the best. Be ready next week, as we have a game to play!’ I feel for him with the ups and downs he’s been going through at the moment, but God will certainly keep helping him on his journey.
After the final, we were invited to a party in Mexico City by Simonal – a popular Brazilian singer who was really friendly with many players in the squad, including Pele. Simonal often came to our training camp and even took part in some of the rondos. He adored football, but the altitude didn’t help him...
During our title parades in Brasilia and Rio de Janeiro, there were two types of banners: ‘ Thank you!’ and ‘ I’m sorry!’ Like I said, when we left for Mexico, not many people believed that we could win the World Cup. In Sao Paulo there wasn’t an official parade, but fans lined the streets for the players who were returning home.
The fact everyone still talks about our Brazil team 50 years on means I’m quite sure they will still be talking about us five decades from now. That squad will be forever marked in football history, for elevating the beautiful game to a true art form.
“CHARLTON MADE THINGS LOOK EASY – I WENT TO FOUL HIM, BUT HE WAS SO FAST THAT HE’D ALREADY GONE PAST”