A Tribute to Pelé

 I was 15 years old at the time of the buzz about Pelé’s 1000th goal. The countdown began on the 910th. Local, national, and international media followed his team, Santos FC, everywhere. The conversation at the offices, factories, bars, street corners, and the no-grass soccer fields was about when, where, and how the historical feat would happen. At the time, the closer goal scorer was four hundred goals behind. We wanted to know who would go into history by association just for being under the crossbar at the wrong time for them but at the right time for the rest of the world.

Our imagination wondered what kind of special magic Pelé would use to score a goal that would be in our memories forever.

Would he score with his head after rising a foot above his marker? Or would he score after controlling a crossed ball with his chest, looping it over a defender before kicking it to the back of the net? Would the goal happen after a spectacular run from the mid-field leaving behind counterless opponents, including the goalkeeper? Or through a swerving free kick? No matter if with his right foot left foot, or his head, we dreamed of a bicycle kick that he, better than anyone else, immortalized.

 The biggest question in the mind of today’s soccer lovers is, how did he arrive at the staggering number of one thousand goals at 28 years of age? Doesn’t it require a lot of games? Yes, it required a lot of games. In addition to official matches from the Brazilian, South America, and FIFA championships, Santos FC toured every continent in the world, playing friendly and exhibition games. He sometimes played three times a week. But what marvels everyone is that no matter if a game was a competition game, a friendly match against an Italian giant, or an exhibition game in Nigeria, he played and scored the same. The fans who paid to see him playing the beautiful game and scoring goals never left the stadium disappointed.

As time passed, each week, the number of goals got closer to the lucky number. Finally, to my astonishment, the game after the 999th goal was going to be at Maracanã Stadium in Rio de Janeiro, one mile from my house. Media from around the globe converged on Rio to witness a player do what no one had done before. On the way to the stadium our level of expectation was as high as the statue of Christ the Redeemer looking down on us from Corcovado Mountain.

The atmosphere at Maracanã stadium was electrifying, a mixture of excitement and expectation. Behind the goalpost, Pelé’s team was attacking, running out of space for the photographers, camera operators, and reporters pulling their microphone cables. Then, a penalty kick for Santos FC in the second half of the game. The eyes of everyone in the stadium and the imagination of fans listening to the game on the radio around Brazil focused on one player, Pelé.

With the calm he had demonstrated at seventeen when he scored the last goal of the final game against Sweden, sealing Brazil's first World Cup win. He took the ball, put it on the penalty mark, walked three or four steps back, collected himself, and ran to the ball, kicking with his right foot. The ball passed the goalkeeper and the goal line to rest in the back of the net.

The next day at our neighborhood soccer field, my friends and I imitated Pelé’s penalty kick. We commemorated the goal for him because the multitude of reporters, cameras, and microphones surrounded him after he scored. Today, several decades later, my friends around the world and I commemorate for him again.