Michael Batson

Back in the day before live television and videos, before satellites and the internet, before downloads and smartphones, growing up a sports fan was different. You read about it, you watched it live at the match if able, or some saw it on film at the movies or delayed on television at first in black and white, or you read about it and you dreamed. Photographs had a whole different meaning as they were then the constant visual medium, the ever present that allowed you to wonder and your imagination to wander. They could be magic and often were, and they were powerful images some of which remained with me my whole life.

When I was young, I had a poster on my wall of the Brazilian football team taken at the Azteca Stadium in Mexico City before they won the 1970 World Cup Final. This was a team that every Brazilian side since has tried and failed to equal. Even their teams of the 1980s with Zico and the great Sócrates–the best Brazilian teams never to have won a World Cup–and their team from 1994 which did succeed in becoming world champions, were inferior. Back then I had not been to another country and had never seen professional players play live in a match. Later in life I went to Brazil and saw a match played in the world’s largest football stadium by two of the country’s biggest teams, but it all made me wonder who were the players in the tournament and how did they all get there to that match at the Azteca?

Gérson de Oliveira Nunes was Brazil’s chief playmaker in Mexico. Pelé might have been the team’s global super star, but it was Gérson who ran the team. Generally quiet and unassuming off the field, he did most of his talking with the ball on the pitch. As Brazil’s creator-in-chief, he was known for his tactical acumen and phenomenal range of passing. With other senior players, he often changed tactics on the field when things weren’t going well, making tweaks here and there, and often suggesting, along with Pelé and Carlos Alberto, tactics to management from evening sessions between the three in hotel rooms where they discussed team morale and performance, a triumvirate the big, bald-headed Mario Americo, Brazil’s chief team masseur at seven World Cups (1950-74), nicknamed “the Cobras”. As Brazil’s tactics changed in matches–sometimes 4-4-2, 4-3-3, 4-2-4, even 4-5-1 and it was none of these–so too did Gérson’s position change. In football parlance sometimes he was a regista, a deep-lying playmaker. Then he was a trequartista lying between midfield and the strikers or an enqanche, a traditional playmaker/attacking midfielder behind the forwards. This varied, as Brazil’s forwards moved, Pelé was not a traditional centre-forward, Jairzinho was a winger but who drifted across field shifting his marker with him to crate space for the overlapping Carlos Alberto, and Tostão sometimes playing as a ponte de lanca, an attacking midfielder or sometime s a deep lying centre forward.

Gérson was close to Saldanha who he found a kindred spirit. They both smoked like trains and neither suffered fools gladly. He later followed Saldanha into the media as a pundit where his nickname of papagaio, (the parrot) with a reputation for rampant verbosity from someone never short of an opinion served him well. They also had the Botafogo connection, Gérson having moved there after starting his career with rivals Flamengo. He thought the Brazil team of 1970 Zagallo inherited was good enough to win regardless of its manager but admitted that Saldanha’s successor brought a blend of tranquillity and toughness with him. For many Gerson’s influence on the Brazil of 1970 was greater than that of Pele with so many of the team’s moves flowing through him, and especially how he dominated the latter stages of the final against Italy.

Born into a footballing family – his father and uncle were professionals – he found himself cast in the same mould as Didi, Brazils’ most influential playmaker at the 1954, 1958 and 1962 World Cups. One of Gérson’s greatest assets was his ability to switch defence into attack with one long, laser-like pass – or lançamento – from deep in his own half. Gerson first represented Brazil at the Pan-America Games in Chicago and a year later he was at the Rome Olympics. With Didi in decline he starred in the Brazil team that won the inter-South American competition and was picked for the 1962 World Cup. After a move to Botafogo he suffered a serious knee injury (one of many injuries that hampered his career) requiring surgery that ruled him out of the side for Chile. In 1966 he was part of the Brazilian side struggling to come to terms with their humiliating early elimination from the World Cup, the fracasso – the shame of 1966 – where European sides brought them crashing down to earth. Europeans reckoned they were seeing the end of the Brazilian era, but Gerson would return to the World Cup part of the best prepared team in the history of Brazilian – perhaps even world – football.

Saldanha wanted goals and built his team around a meio de campo (midfield) of Gérson, Wilson Piazza with Jairzinho and Edu on the wings, and Tostão as the key supply link with Pelé as centre forward. In six qualifying matches in August 1969 Brazil scored 23 goals and conceded just two and clinched their place in Mexico in the match against Paraguay in front of 183,000 fans at the Maracanã. Then things went downhill for the outspoken Saldanha. The wheels fell off. There was an argument with Pelé followed by a falling out, and rumour the politically left-wing Saldanha fell out with the country’s right-wing military dictator and he was sacked and replaced with World Cup winner as a player, Mario Zagallo.

Brazil qualified for the World Cup in 1969 against Colombia, Paraguay, and Venezuela winning all six matches scoring 23 goals and conceding just two. The team’s manager, “Fearless” João Saldanha built his team around a powerful midfield led by Gérson alongside Wilson Piazza, Jairzinho and Edu on the wings, and Tostão as the key supply link with Pelé as centre forward. By early 1970 however, things went downhill for the outspoken Saldanha. The wheels fell off. There was an argument with Pelé followed by a falling out and rumours the politically left-wing Saldanha had fallen out with the country’s right-wing military dictator. He was sacked and replaced with World Cup winner as a player, Mario Zagallo.

Before departing for Mexico the squad went into training at the Retro Dos Patos in Rio with every member was tested daily for speed endurance and strength with results recorded on clipboards and listed in an array of statistics. This was difficult for Gérson. At his club Botafogo and on the Brazilian team, a member of the coaching staff was under instruction to be waiting with a lit cigarette ready at half and full-time. “I used to smoke three packs a day”. Other players smoked too but much less but while some cut down for the World Cup, Gérson and Félix the goalkeeper, kept up their consumption. He arrived in Mexico with much work to do. At 29 he was nearer the end of his career which had somehow failed to fulfil its early, infinite promise. Injured for the 1962 World Cup in Chile, hardly utilised in the unsuccessful tournament in England; even more than Pelé, Mexico represented his last realistic chance to stamp his greatness on the world stage.

At Guanajuato, Brazil’s luxury training base retreat outside Guadalajara where their group matches would be played, the team lived behind barbed wire patrolled by armed sentries and undercover police. Gérson’s left foot was central to the tactics developed by the manager Zagallo, and other senior players. The heart of the Brazilian game-plan was designed to create space for its fastest front men, Jairzinho (nicknamed the Hurricane or Furacão) and Pelé, who under Coutinho’s Cooper tests was returning to the best physical condition of his life. Gérson’s days were dominated by exercises in which he would practise the variety of long balls he would need to use at Guadalajara’s Jaslico Stadium, which supposedly had the best playing surface of any of the World Cup venues. Pass after pass was aimed at small athletic hurdles up to 50m away on the edge of the penalty area, sometimes he played hundreds in a single session.

Then disaster, just 15 days before Brazil’s first match group game, Gérson broke down at training with a calf problem. From then on, he took limited part in training, spending his time instead exercising in the pool. He played in the first match against Czechoslovakia with a leg support and limped off 10 minutes before time. The next morning, he woke with a massive bruise on his leg. With two points safely won, Zagallo decided to rest his playmaker with Botafogo’s Paulo Cézar Lima playing in the next two matches. He returned for the knockout games, firstly in the quarter-final against Peru, and then the semi-final against Uruguay. The final was his finest performance of the World Cup. Gérson admitted he was much happier to be playing the tactically rigid Italians than the more flexible Germans, It was he, rather than Pelé, who turned the match Brazil’s way in the second half. Italy gifted him the space to operate by playing a two-man midfield of Giancarlo De Sisti (of Fiorentina) and Sandro Mazzola (Inter). The latter was preferred to his great rival, Gianni Rivera, the Milan captain and European Footballer of the Year, who sat on the bench. The first half finished one-all after Roberto Boninsegna cancelled out Pelé’s opening goal capitalising on a horrendous mistake by Clodoaldo. As if sensing his time had come, Gérson returned from his half-time cigarettes and took control of the rest of the match. He scored a scorcher in the 65-minute raking a left-foot shot beyond the Italian goalkeeper Albertosi. Then he dropped a pinpoint pass to Pelé inside the penalty area who then laid on a pass for Jairzinho to run the ball into the net. Brazil won the match and earned the right to retain the Jules Rimet Trophy as winners for the third time.

After football, Gérson went into punditry largely because during his playing career he found many of the comments by commentators then nauseating and thought he could do better. Of Brazilian football inhis playing retirement he was less than flattering; “when I was a boy I would go and watch Garrincha or Didi. Today you go for what?” There was controversy too when he was paid to advertise his favourite brand of cigarettes with the infamous catch-phrase “I like to take advantage of everything. You too take advantage” which was then instantly associated with the traditional Brazilian disregard for laws and social rules as well as corruption informally named “Jeitinho Brasileiro” (“the Brazilian way”), an expression still largely used to this day. The tagline was eventually phrased the “Lei de Gérson” (Gérson's law), although he later publicly regretted having starred in the ad, claiming his association with such acts did not reflect his true personality. Eventually he gave up smoking entirely. Later, he became sports secretary for city hall in his boyhood Niteroi and running Projecto Gérson, a scheme to provide underprivileged kids with free sports tuition.

Hércules de Brito Ruas (Brito) began his professional career as a 16-year-old at Rio giants Vasco da Gama where he spent five years. He then had a year with the red team in Porto Alegre, Internacional, before moving back to Rio with Vasco again where he played 365 games from 1960-69 before joining Flamengo on the eve of the 1970 World Cup. In all he played for 11 different clubs in a career spanning 24 years including playing in Canada and Venezuela. By the time the World Cup rolled around he had already been a professional for 15 years. Brito was a tall rugged central defender, one of the squad’s senior player’s group. Like others in the team, Fontana, Gérson, Félix and Carlos Alberto he was a smoker, though he managed to cut down his consumption as part of the fitness regimen the Brazil team adopted under the guidance of artillery major Cláudio Coutinho, one based on the NASA training programme for astronauts including punishing daily Cooper runs.

Brito was part of the 1966 Brazil squad for the World Cup in England. For the first two group matches he sat on the bench watching Brazil’s aged backline be given the run around. He got his chance in the final crucial match against Portugal where Pelé was kicked off the park and Brazil lost 3-1. Brazil failed to qualify for the knockout stage and went home, a humiliating exit for the then reigning two-time world champions. The second most senior member in the squad, the World Cup in Mexico was for Brito and for Brazil, a chance at redemption. Like Félix and Gérson, Brito was likely looking at his last tournament in canary yellow, so the stakes for him and other senior players were higher than for younger members of the team.

Of all the squad in Mexico he was the fittest in the Cooper tests. He also carried a big physical presence and was the most vocal member of all the players. Gérson called him “a lion” among men. Like others in Brazil’s defence, he was culpable for some mistakes as Brazil kept only one clean sheet. Attackers win games but defences win titles so they say, but Brazil disproved this theory instead again becoming world champions on the basis that no matter how many they conceded, Brazil’s brilliant frontline would score more, and they did.  There was Petras’ opening goal for the Czechs, Sotil’s second in the quarter-final against Peru, and arguably Boninsegna’s equaliser in the final, though Clodoaldo played him an unforgiveable pass. His most impressive performance came against England where despite everything thrown at him, he stayed resolute. With 15 minutes left in the Final his important tackle on Boninsegna, when he was through on goal by virtue of a Piazza slip, effectively snuffed out Italy’s resistance.

After the World Cup his career declined partly due to his age but also his temperament – he had a temper. In 1971, in the final match of the Carioca Championship between Fluminense and Brito’s Botafogo at the Maracanã in front of 142,000 fans with Zagallo watching from the stands, Brito laid out the referee over a disputed goal. When Zagallo recalled virtually the entire side for the 1972 Independence Cup tournament (against Portugal to celebrate 150 years since Brazil’s independence) Brito was perhaps the most glaring omission. He had played his last match for his country but carried on with club football with minor Brazilian clubs until 1979 aged almost 40. After football, Brito went on to work for his local authority overseeing the provision of sports facilities for school children. He combined his work with his passion for fishing.

Carlos Alberto Torres (nicknamed the Captain or Capitão) said he thought captaining a Brazil team committed to a common cause in Mexico was easier than being captain of the highly paid troubadours of Santos because his club team “had more stars”. His goal in the final was perhaps even more famous than Geoff Hurst’s third to complete the one and only hattrick in the 1966 final, and came four minutes from time, no chance then of sitting back to defend a lead. A stark contrast to when Brazil won their next World Cup in 1994 against the same opposition, a match won on penalties after being nil-all after extra-time when Brazil played with two defensive midfield players; Dunga and Mauro Silva (nicknamed “the wardrobe”).

Carlos Alberto was Brazil’s only true attacking fullback in the team’s first choice line-up in Mexico where Everaldo on the opposite flank was more a man-marker, so most attacks went down Brazil’s right side. His style, the wing-back, so effective today and much more widespread, was still somewhat of a novelty then. Attacking fullbacks became an increasing part of the game with 4-2-4, the system gives the space in front of the fullbacks encourages them to run. It was a formation with many fathers but may have been first used by a Paraguayan coach in 1951 at Vila Nova, a club from Nova Lima outside Belo Horizonte. The immediate impact of the switch to a back four was to neuter the winger but there was a corollary to that, which was to release the fullback. The legendary Nilton Santos of Botafogo and Brazil and Silvio Marzolini of Boca Juniors–widely regarded as the best Argentine left back of all time–pioneered the idea of attacking from deep lying wide areas.

Carlos Alberto played every minute of every game at Mexico, but it was the final for which he is best remembered and where he made history. Brazil had a quiet first half in the final one reason for this being the hold Facchetti had on Jairzinho. The Italian was probably the fastest and certainly the largest fullback Brazil’s flying winger had met in the competition; he could not be leaned into in the way Jairzinho forced his way past others. But ultimately the domination of Jairzinho led to the opening of a new avenue of attack for Brazil, down the line into the space left by the winger as he wandered cross-field, taking his guard with him. Soon came the first hint of renewed danger for Italy, as Brazil’s captain, sent away by Rivellino, raced almost to the by-line, and centred across the goalmouth three metres out. The pace of the ball beat Albertosi in Italy’s goal, and Pelé, coming in ‘like a toboggan’ beyond the far post flung himself feet first and slid the ball less than a foot wide. Like other action it was captured in one of the great photos from the final by Popperfoto, founded by the Czech Paul Popper, but now consumed by Getty. Brazil scored twice more in the second half before there came ‘that goal’ relayed in flashing brilliant technicolour and replayed in a myriad of media ever since. Italy had made two substitutions late on to try to save the match bringing on attacking midfielders the playmaker Antonio Juliano of Napoli and the great Gianni Rivera of Milan, but these were no more than gestures by a beaten manager.

It was Carlos Alberto who came to dominate the final minutes of the match finishing off what was then the only World Cup goal to comprise nine passes. With the electric clock on the scoreboard showing 3:27 minutes to go, there came the last flourish. Jairzinho weaved in from the left, slid the ball to Pelé; he held it for a couple of seconds, then, looking one way, rolled it the other, perfect for pace and angle, into the path of Carlos Alberto, who was going like a train down the outside. At Santos he had found himself in such positions a hundred times before, yet his friend and former next-door neighbour had never been quite so generous with a pass. Pelé rolled the ball into his path perfectly timed, so the approaching fullback didn’t have to adjust speed. Carlos Alberto could do nothing but meet the ball perfectly in his stride. If you see the photos or slow down the replay, you can see the Italian defender airborne, horizontal feet-first in an attempt to block the shot in time. There was something beautiful about the way the raking, right-footed shot disturbed the looseness of Albertosi’s netting. As Carlos Alberto danced deliriously behind the goal, 110 million Brazilians began their samba-percussion batucada, beating the drums for the biggest party in the nation’s history. As his shot flew low past Albertosi, the crowd began streaming over the moat which is supposed to separate spectators from the pitch.

It was the captain who was handed the Jules Rimet trophy by Mexico’s president after the final whistle and the players had managed to make their way through the crowds after it had taken over 20 minutes for order to be restored after the crowds crossed the moat and stormed the field. He held it aloft palms facing together arms extended upwards mirroring Brazil’s first World Cup winning captain Bellini who, after prompting by the Brazilian journalists at the back of the throng, and probably because their taller Swedish counterparts blocked their view, had said “lift it higher” and so has been copied by captains ever since. Carlos Alberto that day made history as the last man to raise the Jules Rimet trophy an event that made the front pages on all five continents. That night he led the dancing at the post-match party held at the Hotel Isabel Maria (now the Sheraton) in downtown Mexico City where Wilson Simonal, the massively popular Brazilian singer of the 1960s and early 1970s (his best known hits were covered by Sérgio Mendes) had been hired and the dancing went on to the early hours of Monday morning. Sometime during the party, he took a call from Brazil’s dictator who also spoke to Pelé and Mario Zagallo, though there was so much noise it’s unclear who heard what.

On their return to Brazil, the government waived the country’s strict customs laws for the players to bring back whatever goods they could carry. By contrast, the 1994 World Cup winning side had to wait all day at the airport while the Finance Minister agonised whether to afford them the same privilege. Lead by their captain the 1970 side was paraded through the streets of major cities atop heavily guarded fire engines through scenes of carnival and chaos before an audience with Médici, the country’s dictator. His regime, recognising the utility of sport as a propaganda tool, had invested heavily politically and financially in the team and their victory would also be the military government’s victory. President Médici ensured there were endless photos with the players at the presidential palace, and gave each player a tax-free bonus of USD18,500 (about USD137,000 today). The players’ views of the government are not always explored. Tostão is known to have had severe reservations about being associated with such a brutal regime and distanced himself. Others seemed unaware about the political messaging, though given the numbers of military figures involved with the squad at Mexico this may be somewhat naive. Carlos Alberto’s politics, like his playing position were apparently of the right, but whether he embraced the military or just played his role as team captain, is unclear.

He was injured and could not play in the 1974 World Cup. By 1978 he had followed his former neighbour Pelé to the New York Cosmos, part of the vanguard of foreign stars for the fledging NASL, where he played for six seasons. The Jules Rimet trophy he had held aloft at the Azteca on that famous Sunday in June 1970 was later stolen from the CBF headquarters  and never seen again – apparently the trophy, made of 1.8kgs of gold, was sawn into pieces and melted down – symbolising for many Brazilians the incompetency, corruption and untrustworthiness of authority. After playing he managed many clubs and national teams; from Brazilian giants like Flamengo and Corinthians, to other clubs in Mexico, Colombia, and the USA, and the national sides of Oman and lastly, Azerbaijan. Later he set up a football school at Clube Aeronautica, a disused airfield near Barra da Tujica – a wannabe Miami where Rio’s beautiful people really parade themselves, catering to the children of the middle-class. He also spent his time as a commentator on Brazilian television. He died in 2016, just one month after his twin brother, Carlos Roberto.