The Premier League season starts in about six minutes, so you’re probably expecting this site to revert back to blanket coverage of the tiny crinkle above Arsène Wenger’s nose. (“It’s looking world-weary, Jim.”) But first, we’re going to make room for something else, because I keep thinking about the last post, and I’m convinced that this sad neglect of Pelé has to end.
Just about everyone who responded to “Is Pelé Underrated?” agreed with the basic premise that Pelé was a completely wonderful player, but one who’s bizarrely hard to care about because his combination of near-perfection on the pitch and the institutional adulation he’s received off it offers nothing for the football connoisseur to take hold of. As Alan wrote:
The perfectly symmetrical face—when generated as an artificial image, which is the only way perfect symmetry happens—is less interesting, less attractive, than the face that bears, however subtly, the asymmetries of ordinary human physiognomy. Pelé is just too damned symmetrical. What did he do excellently?—well, everything. His heading was as accurate as his dribbling was dextrous as his vision was acute as his shot was powerful. Contrast Maradona, who, in addition to his many physical eccentricities, on that astonishing run through the English defense in the ’86 Cup never touched the ball with his right foot. (Can’t recall who pointed this out to me.) Or Garrincha with his curved spine and oddly twisted legs. Even Cruyff, who substantively was as complete a player as Pelé, looked a little odd for most of his career because he was so skinny—plus he went out of his way to do the unexpected, which I don’t think Pelé ever did. (Pelé just did what was right, which wouldn’t have been good enough for Cruyff.)
And when you add the “perfectly symmetrical face” problem to the nine hundred million FIFA-certified writs of approval and the nine hundred and three million Crestfield Wax Paper commercials, you have—or this was the general conclusion—a sort of living ™ symbol that nobody wants to endorse.
Is that right, though? I can’t shake the sense that we’re missing the boat on Pelé, that, like the Hot Fives and Sevens or The Godfather, he’s become invisible through repetition and influence. We’ve all known his name since the day the atom was split, and I wonder whether what we’re seeing when we watch him is dulled by what we already know and expect. I want to shake that off and make an effort to look at him with fresh eyes. I could be wrong about this, but I have a feeling that if we could see him as, say, a 23-year-old at a specific moment in time, and not the concept of exalted predestination, he might as cool a player to like as Cruyff, or Garrincha, or anyone.
Thus, I’m announcing the first-ever Pelé Week on The Run of Play. Next week—even if it means not writing much about Liverpool-Arsenal, A Game So Vast We Shall Never Again See Its Like—we’re going to be all Pelé, all the time, with the hope of peeling away some of the layers of familiarity and, if this is even possible, recontextualizing O Rei as a human being.
Writers, if you have a fresh angle on Pelé, I’ll be very receptive to Pelé-related submissions for the next few days, so torpedoes, by which I mean email attachments, at the ready, please. Readers, pour yourselves a brandy and prepare to be YouTubed at. If you hate this idea, or if it seems like Mostly Mozart, you might be able to find Premier League coverage somewhere else online. I’m not sure about that, but I’m optimistic.
Read More: Pelé
by Brian Phillips · August 13, 2010
Hear, hear. Looking forward (while also looking for something fresh and interesting to say about Pelé… a blank so far).
At the age of 13 (I am 25 now) my coach at the time, who is a devout fan of all things Brasil, showed my team a tape of the match between the 1970 Brasil team vs. Uruguay in the semis of the World Cup. Growing up in the United States I was never much of a fan of football history. However, after watching that game, and specifically the transcendent moment when Pele faints the Uruguayan goalie out of his jock before barely missing the tap-in, I was. I suggest anyone who implies that Pele was more about doing “the right thing” than whatever Johan Cruyff was apparently about try and find that game tape. While surrounded by (arguably, though I think its pretty straighforward) the greatest collection of talent ever assembled, Pele is the unquestioned star. Maybe he is the institution like people insist, and I do understand the attraction of the subversive, however I don’t believe it is as black-and-white as people are painting. If you’re looking for an accurate comparison I believe that he’s like the rapper Rakim: technically superior t0 everyone at the time of his reign, yet overlooked after the fact because of his seeming lack of vulnerability and the numerous copycats who appropriated, yet never duplicated, his style afterwards.
Here’s a theory I have: More people around the world like Pele when compared to Maradona, but the level of affection and devotion of Maradona fans far exceed those of Pele fans.
Wonder if anyone exceeds.
What I meant was whether anyone AGREES to it ?
@Abhishek I think that’s about right – the Diego fans absolutely adore him, whereas the entire world loves Pele just like we love coca cola, puppies, and Sunday afternoons. As in, we “like” but are indifferent when push comes to shove.
(1) That was an obnoxious posting.
(2) Outside of World Cups, Pele only played in Brazil. Most other players involved in this discussion had to dominate European club soccer in addition to performing at international tournaments. That seems like an impossible fact to overlook.
Eduardo Galeano, Uruguayan writer and novelist, writes of Pelé:
He was born in a poor home in a far-off village, and he reached the summit of power and fortune where blacks were not allowed. Off the field he never gave a minute of his time and a coin never fell from his pocket. But those of us who were lucky enough to see him play received alms of an extra-ordinary beauty: moments so worthy of immortality that they make us believe immortality exists.
Nate has picked out the “transcendent moment when Pele faints the Uruguayan goalie out of his jock before barely missing the tap-in” as a defining passage of Pele play.
Is this the exception that proves your rule? By rights, ‘Mastercard Pele TM’ should have completed this sublime passage of play by scoring and thus keeping the picture of perfection in page.
But he missed, creating instead something that is more captivating and beguiling because of its imperfection. If the goal is scored then we are drawn towards the outcome, but here there is no tangible outcome, so we concentrate on the process itself – the outrageous and beautiful dummy.
Pele is mostly about outcome – goal after goal after goal, so it feels rare, different and awkward to be looking at the means rather than the ends. A guilty pleasure almost.