Adieu Carlos Alberto, the captain of best 11 world ever put together

By universal consensus, the beauty of the beautiful game reached the highest point of its splendour with Brazil’s 4-1 victory over Italy in the 1970 World Cup final at the Azteca Stadium in Mexico City. World Cup ’70 is the seminal book about that tournament. It is written and edited by football writers who have seen World Cups since the early ‘60s to date and know what they are talking about.

This is Hugh McIlvanney’s description of Brazil’s fourth goal: “Barely four minutes remained when Clodoaldo, whose donation of a goal to Italy had been isolated in an otherwise excellent performance, began the attack with a dribble that was as brilliant as it was untypical.

“Normally he is happy to apply his skills with firm economy but here, wriggling and feinting in the manner of Rivelino, he mesmerised five challengers and from the left half position passed the ball to Jairzinho. Moving inside from the left wing, Jairzinho sent it on to Pele, who was 20 yards out in front of goal. Yet again, Jairzinho had drawn Facchetti far out of position and Carlos Alberto was coming through on an angled run with the intimidating directness of a torpedo.

“Pele, seeing him come, turned unhurriedly and rolled the ball into his path with the relaxed precision of a lawn bowler. Without having to check, deviate or adjust his stride, Carlos Alberto smashed the ball with his right foot low into the side net behind Albertosi’s right hand post. It was an unforgettable goal and its seeming inevitability increased rather than diminished its excitement.” Carlos Alberto died this week, aged 72.

But that goal did not die with him and never will. It is considered one of the greatest of any scored in a World Cup. It enchanted millions of football fans around the world who consistently voted it amongst the best they had ever seen.

Yet for Carlos Alberto, it had been just another day on the job. He hadn’t thought there was anything special to it until the ceaseless reminder, year after year, finally brought his attention to it; people kept on talking about the fourth goal as if the other three didn’t count.

That’s when he fell in love with his own masterpiece. In an interview with the BBC, he said: “I realise how beautiful and how important that goal was because everybody is still talking about it. Nobody talks about Pele’s goal, the first goal or the second goal. It is always about the fourth goal. I think it was the best goal ever scored in a World Cup. Anybody can score a goal, but in that move nine different players touched the ball before the goal. I was lucky though, because I scored it.”

When news came through last Tuesday that Brazil’s Eternal Captain had breathed his last in Rio de Janeiro, the world of football responded with the grief that follows the passing of a beloved legend. Beautiful memories flooded back. I reached for any text in my study that has anything on the 1970 World Cup.

Alex Bellos, in his tome, “Futebol: The Brazilian Way of Life” wrote: “In 1970, Brazil won the World Cup for the third time. The team played with such panache that the final is generally regarded as the highest moment in Brazilian – if not world – football.”

And in McIlvanney on Football, the master of our craft mused: “…there is quite a lot of sourness about 1990, much regret over the failure of Holland to get their due in 1974 and 1978 and the odd hint that I regard Mexico in 1970 as the most beautiful representation of football I ever expect to see.”

The greatest footballer of all time, Pele, was Carlos Alberto’s team mate at Santos Football Club and with the Selecao, Brazil’s national team. They would also become team mates in their sunset years at New York’s Cosmos. Pele has much to say about the famous right back. In Pele: The Autobiography, he writes about the generosity of Carlos Alberto.

He was the master penalty taker, the first choice for the spot kick for both club and country but who refused to take one to help his team mate achieve a milestone.

The King, as they called Pele, was approaching his 1,000th goal when Santos lined up against Botafogo of Paraiba State (no relation to the big Rio club). At that time, he had scored 998 goals and the big number beckoned. Santos earned themselves a penalty.

Pele writes: “In normal circumstances, Carlos Alberto would have taken the kick. But this time he refused. The pressure on me to take it was enormous. My team-mates told me that if I didn’t, the crowd would never let us get out of the stadium! So I caved in and put the ball on the spot. Whack. My 999th goal. One to go.”

This week, Pele mourned: “I am deeply saddened by the death of my friend and brother @Capita70. Dear God, please take care of our ‘Capitao’. Rest in Peace.”

It is a sentiment that echoed across Brazil. The Brazilian Football Confederation decreed three days of mourning during which flags in its offices across the country would fly at half-mast. All football matches played under its auspices would also start with a minute of silence. Santos, Carlos Alberto’s old club, also declared a three-day period of mourning for its legendary captain.

It was a respectful tribute to a man who made it to Fifa’s lists of World Team of the 20th Century and 100 Greatest Living Players of all Time. He was also an inductee of the Brazilian Football Museum Hall of Fame and also the US National Soccer Hall of Fame.

Carlos Alberto always said his greatest fortune was being captain of a team widely accepted as the finest 11 players any country could put together for a match.

Many people, among them millions of non-Brazilians, revere the squad that achieved a perfect record of six wins after winning all their qualifying matches. Having won the Jules Rimet Trophy for a third time – after 1958 and 1962 – it earned Brazil the right to keep it for good. This earned Carlos Alberto the affectionate nickname “O Capitão do Tri” – The tri-Captain.

The 1970 team was: Felix, Carlos Alberto, Brito, Piazza, Everaldo, Clodoaldo, Gerson, Rivelino, Jairzinho, Tostao and Pele. It was coached by Mario Zagalo. Jairzinho, “The Hurricane”, scored in every match.

Every time an event like this happens somewhere in our inter-connected world, it is impossible not to become introspective.

As I followed events in Rio and Sao Paulo following Carlos Alberto’s death, I remembered what happened here after we lost players who have at one time or the other given us so much happiness over so many years.

And I remembered some of the stories I have written about them.

Our departed legends merit no official respect. Everything goes on as if nothing has happened.

Not even a minute of silence in their memory. I once wrote about one player whose remains were ferried home for burial in a tipper lorry, the only means of transport available to his grief-stricken family that was donated by a Good Samaritan.

Mercifully, at the gravesite, the coffin was respectfully carried down by the arms of men and not dropped into the grave by the mechanism of a hydraulic tipper. Even by our non-existent standards, that would have been beyond the pale.

This is Kenya, a great nation.