When Pelé walks on my feet again

In the end, when you get to a certain age, men who walk on their hands, acrobats, no longer have such an effect, because, everyone knows, sooner or later they will have to go back to walking on their feet. It’s a simple matter of time. So in the end I can consider myself lucky: I didn’t see Pele from 1958 because I wasn’t born yet. Yet he was an acrobat then, one of those who walked on his hands: a splendid eighteen-year-old tightrope walker. However I saw the 1970 Pelé who, instead, had returned to walking on his feet like ordinary mortals. I saw it “En vivo – Live” from the Azteca Stadium, on June 21, 1970, when Brazil, let’s say it once and for all, buried a splendid Italy. Of everything he did that day, including the famous suspension in the air that led to 1 – 0 and which stunned Tarcisio Burgnich, what still sticks with me after so many is the pass with which he allowed Carlos Alberto to score the definitive 4 to 1. In the midst of about twenty breathless runners from the height, clouded by the rarefaction of the air, Pelé received the ball from Jairzinho and found himself in front of Burgnich. The 1958 acrobat would certainly have hit the famous carioca dribbling, which Burgnich was expecting. Instead, the Pelé of 1970 waited a motionless moment because he was certain that someone would arrive to his right and Carlos Alberto, the strongest Brazil captain ever (come on: together with that of 1958), arrived on time for the appointment.

It’s always an extraordinary moment when in a fast-paced sport you meet a man who runs a little less, but who knows how to be in the world. If, perhaps, Carlos Alberto’s goal could be downplayed by the fact that “well, we were all in attack and it was too easy to kill us”, two weeks earlier Pelé had already demonstrated that the eye and the brain count as much as juggling. The English were all lined up in defence: the dour defense of the world champions. Tostao dumbfounded a couple, including the Bobby Moore emblem, and passed half length to Pele, who chest-blocked and feigned dribble, so Cooper guarding Jairzinho took a step towards him. It was what “O Rey” was waiting for and, from a standstill, he put the ball just a meter and a half further away: where Cooper was before and now Jairzinho was free in front of Banks.

Now maybe someone is thinking that I’m recounting the deeds of a man who in 1970 made up for the lack of petrol with his genius, but there is a platform that allows us to review the images of the past. In the semi-final match against Uruguay, Pelé came rushing in to chase down a pass from Tostao. The great Ladislao Mazurkiewitz saved himself in front of him: the best goalkeeper of the World Cup. Pelé only pretended to touch the ball and running around Ladislao, while the ball continued its way untouched. Both, the ball and the champion, rejoiced ahead and Pele kicked on goal. The ball came out half a hair, while the English commentator in front of this pun never seen before screamed like a madman “What a genius!”, Shamefully violating the millennial British embargo against the deeds of South American footballers. Well, if I have to remember Pelé I want to remember him with this missed goal, and it’s really a great irony of fate.