The Final I Almost Missed
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My earliest World Cup memory is from 1994. The tournament was held in the United States for the first time, with Brazil ending a 24-year wait by beating Italy in the final by penalty shootout.
That alone would have been enough drama. But fate had a few more surprises up its sleeve.
I was just eight years old and on holiday at my aunt’s house in Santo Ângelo, in Rio Grande do Sul, a small town in the interior with 70,000 inhabitants. But the scene was the same as in so many other Brazilian homes: friends gathered together, a barbecue on, and everyone glued to the TV to watch the final.
I couldn’t believe it when Romário squandered that sitter and let the match be decided on penalties. It felt like a bad omen.
The atmosphere was tense. Everyone was on edge. After all, Brazil hadn’t won the World Cup since 1970, back when Pelé was still playing.
Just as the penalty shootout was about to begin, everything went dark. While Brazil and Italy were ready to decide the 1994 World Cup title over in the United States, the power had gone out in little Santo Ângelo. Talk about bad luck.
But the night wasn’t over yet. We ran out of my aunt’s house to check whether the problem was just with us or the whole street. Luckily, a neighbour’s house still had its lights on.
We didn’t stop to ask permission. We didn’t need to. We crowded around his small telly and watched with anguish the kind of suffering that only a penalty shootout can deliver.
Baresi stepped up first and blazed it over. Elation. But then Márcio Santos came forward and Italy’s goalkeeper, Pagliuca, saved it. Dread.
Albertini converted his, and Romário saw the ball clip the post before hitting the back of the net. Every Brazilian’s heart nearly stopped. Evani converted too, and Branco levelled it up again: 2-2.
Then the tide turned in our favour for good. Taffarel saved Daniele Massaro’s effort, and captain Dunga, shirt tucked into his shorts as ever, sent Pagliuca the wrong way with real composure. His celebration is iconic to this day. Brazil were one goal away from being champions again.
That goal never came, but you’ll never hear a Brazilian complain. Roberto Baggio, Italy’s star player, blazed his penalty over the bar and ended the drought. Brazil, four-time world champions.
After that, it was pure celebration. Everyone out on the street, shouting, waving flags and grinning from ear to ear. People who’d never exchanged more than a passing hello were hugging each other, and some were in tears. A joy that was genuine and almost impossible to put into words. The kind of thing only football can do to you.
