The Other Side of the Story
Click here for Brazilian Portuguese.
When the heroes of my bedtime stories weren’t wearing black-and-white striped shirts, they were wearing yellow ones. “Nilton Santos wore only two jerseys throughout his entire life: Botafogo’s and the Brazilian national team’s. They called him ‘The Encyclopedia of Football,’” my father would tell me. “Garrincha was the joy of the people! Fans would burst into laughter in the stands as they watched his dazzling dribbles. He was ‘The Angel with the Bent Legs’,” he would continue.
I grew up listening to my father tell stories about the legends of the Brazilian national team, especially those who played for Botafogo, which, after his family, has always been his greatest passion.
He spoke with particular affection about Brazil’s first three World Cup titles (1958, 1962, and 1970), because so many of the players on those championship-winning teams came from Botafogo – the club that has contributed more players to Brazil’s World Cup squads than any other in history.
My father taught me everything I know about football. Everything I know about sports. His passion became mine as well. So much so that, when I grew up, I became a sports journalist.
A few days before the 2018 FIFA World Cup, I had the opportunity to meet two eyewitnesses to Brazil’s first World Cup triumph in 1958 – but from the other side.
The final was played against host nation Sweden. I traveled to Stockholm to interview Owe Ohlsson, who at 79 was one of only four surviving members of Sweden’s 1958 national team, and Bengt Agren, then 88, the only surviving member of the tournament’s Organizing Committee.
The two gentlemen brought photographs, newspapers, pins, DVDs, jerseys, books, albums… countless mementos and treasured keepsakes from the unforgettable final against Brazil. Unforgettable not only for Brazilians, who won their first World Cup, but also for the hosts, who were captivated by the Brazilian team.
“After that match, the Swedish people took the Brazilian team and the Brazilian nation to their hearts,” Bengt told me.
They then began to recite Brazil’s starting lineup from that final: “Nilton Santos, Garrincha, Didi, Zagallo…”. I felt goosebumps. And something magical happened: I was transported back to my childhood. The voices of the two Swedish gentlemen began to blend with my father’s voice, echoing what he had told me two decades earlier: “Four of the 11 starters in 1958 played for Botafogo. Didi was named the best player of the tournament, he was the brains of the team.”
I heard them speak about the very same players my father had once turned into bedtime legends, with the same reverence, the same specific names, the same catch in the throat. Except these men had faced those players on a pitch. And lost.
For hours, they brought to life stories I had heard about only superficially while growing up, filling them with vivid detail. The people who had experienced those moments firsthand were sitting right in front of me, sharing their memories. And I was once again a child, enchanted by that team’s legendary achievements. The interview, which was supposed to last only a few hours, ended up lasting an entire day.
In that moment, I understood that some of the most devoted guardians of Brazil’s greatest football generation are not Brazilian. They are Swedish. And they were on the losing side.
As if to deepen the emotions already stirring within me, when our meeting came to an end, Bengt Agren presented me with an original gold brooch worn by the Swedish delegation during the 1958 World Cup, a priceless relic that I will undoubtedly treasure forever.
Today, just as my father once did with me, I tell these stories to my nieces. They have never seen Brazil win a World Cup, yet they already know the country’s glorious football history. And now I can pass on something my father never could: the firsthand memories the Swedes shared with me.
