Back in September, when Queen Elizabeth II died, my English boss was explaining to me what that meant for the British people. One of the phrases that stuck with me is that most people in the UK have lived their entire lives under her reign, and her departure would represent a strange change in a well-established reality.
Well, for some reason, Pelé’s death gave me a similar feeling.
When you’re born in Brazil, you quickly learn to kick a ball. And as soon as you understand what football is, you are introduced to the name of Pelé, the king of that sport, with no chance for a debate.
So Pelé’s subjects are divided into two groups. Those who were born after his retirement and were taught and proven that he was the greatest football player that ever walked the earth. The other group, now older, are those who could see the king with their own eyes. These are the ones who actually gave him his crown and remain his most fierce defenders to this day.
My grandfather may be one of the most fanatical Corinthians fans I’ve ever seen, but he used to pay tickets to see Santos games in the 60s. And this story is repeated countless times by many elder people who, at that time, would go beyond any rivalry to enjoy the entertainment that only that player could offer.
Football’s evolution has brought us fantastic players, who have been rightly compared to Pelé over the years. But this is the time we realise we’re talking about something different here, something that goes beyond the four lines.
This Thursday, minutes after his death was announced, the world media soon showed the arsenal of material they had on Pelé. And as much as we know many of these stories by heart, by the time they’re all shoved in your face at once, you just accept the truth.
He made the game more beautiful, more popular and more entertaining in a way we’ll never see such impact again.
Pelé was football, and in its finest metaphor, by being a poor black kid from a Third World country who garnered reverence around the world.
As a player, he went on excursions to the best football grounds to show off what he was capable of.
As an artist, he was living among the most acclaimed musicians and actors.
As a king, he met the most powerful heads of state.
Today, in streets, bars and news-stands, there is this great feeling that the greatest of all time is gone.
Far from Twitter threads and cold analyses, there’s been a beautiful silent gesture from the world press, who by reaching a consensus, made a joint establishment of what he was: a king chosen by the people.
