PODCAST EPISODE 4: BRAZIL 1950 A nation builds the biggest stadium on Earth, and gathers inside… to watch its team lose. One man silences the greatest crowd in history with a clever bit of sportsmanship. And a goalkeeper spends his life paying for one mistake.
This
was
the
greatest
upset
in
World
Cup
History.
And it all happened in Brazil… in 1950. Welcome to The World Cup Files! Are you ready to travel back in time and relive the greatest moments in football history? From dramatic finals to unbelievable goals, each episode tells the story of one World Cup — the
heroes,
the
villains,
and
the
moments
no
one
saw
coming.
So grab your boots… it’s time to kick off our journey through the World Cup! I’m Aileen, and this is The World Cup Files.
Twelve years the world had waited. Thoughts and energy elsewhere. But the war was over. The world was rebuilding. And football – simple, pure and glorious – was ready to come back. Brazil was the perfect choice to host. Brazil was mad about football. Completely, deliriously mad. They built a stadium to prove it — the Maracanã in Rio de Janeiro. A vast concrete cathedral
that
could
hold
somewhere
in
the
region
of
two
hundred
thousand
people.
Two hundred thousand. That's not a crowd. That's a town inside a stadium. It wasn't quite finished when the tournament began. Sound familiar? But nobody cared. Because the World Cup was back. And Brazil intended to win it.
Welcome to File Four. Brazil, 1950. Where the world's greatest tournament returned with
a
bang.
LET’S TAKE A LOOK AT THE KEY FACTS 13 teams. 22 matches. 88 goals. Winners: Uruguay in a 2-1 decider against Brazil. Top scorer: Ademir de Menezes of Brazil with 9 goals.
THE CONTENDERS
Thirteen teams made it in the end — the same number as 1930, which felt fitting for a tournament
that
was
starting
over
in
so
many
ways.
Several countries had qualified but then pulled out. Legend has it that India withdrew because FIFA refused to let their players play barefoot.
It’s
much
more
likely
that
their
real
reasons
were
a
combination
of
the
financial
strain
of
travelling
to
Brazil
and
their
focus
on
the
Olympics.
Scotland refused to come because they had pledged that they would only participate if they
came
top
of
their
qualifying
group.
And they didn’t. They were second to England. Can you believe it? They qualified. They were invited. Even the English FA urged them to come. But their Chairman
held
firm.
Out of what? Pride? Embarrassment? I don’t know. But can you imagine how the players felt as news reports came in of England’s
trip
to
Brazil?
Talk
about
FOMO!
Germany and Japan were banned, an unexpected consequence of losing a world war. And Argentina decided to sit it out because their football federation had a bit of a disagreement
with
Brazil’s.
Which I’m sure seemed important in their boardroom. Maybe less so for their players.
HOW IT PLAYED OUT
The format was unlike anything that had been used before. Brazil was keen to recoup some of the enormous expense that it had shouldered preparing
for
the
tournament
–
and
that
wasn’t
going
to
be
possible
in
a
knock-out
tournament with only 13 teams. So they devised – and very strongly insisted upon – a round
robin
format.
There would be four initial groups with each team playing all other teams in its group. Two
points
would
be
awarded
for
a
win,
and
one
for
a
draw.
The winning team from each group would then go into a final group, where the same rules
would
apply
to
choose
the
winner.
There wouldn’t be a final! It was a strange format, and it would turn out to matter enormously.
THE FIRST GROUP STAGE
Brazil were extraordinary from the first whistle of their opening match. They were fast and
fluid.
They
played
with
the
kind
of
freedom
that
only
comes
from
playing
in
front
of
your
own
fans
in
the
biggest
stadium
on
earth.
There was a certainty in the air, a feeling of inevitability that for the third time in its history,
the
trophy
would
be
staying
with
the
home
nation.
They beat Mexico 4-0 in their opening match. They drew 2-2 with Switzerland. Then they beat Yugoslavia 2-0 to top their group. Meanwhile, across the table, England were gearing up to play the USA. England had arrived in Brazil amid a buzz of excitement and anticipation. It was only their
second
World
Cup
and
their
squad
was
full
of
big
names.
People
were
really
excited
to
see
what
they
would
do.
They beat Chile 2-0 in their opener. It was all going pretty much to plan. Meanwhile, the Americans were mostly part-timers. Their team included a teacher, a dishwasher,
and
a
postal
worker!
What
a
cool
reason
to
have
to
ask
your
boss
for
time
off.
On paper, it didn’t seem like a fair contest. In reality, it turned into one of the greatest upsets in World Cup history.
The USA were under pressure from the starter whistle, their goalie, Frank Borghi, forced to
make
a
diving
save
within
the
opening
minutes.
And England didn’t let up, chance after chance materialising then coming to nothing. The USA held their nerve, withstanding each attack. Until, as the match approached half-time…
the
ball
crossed
high
towards
England’s
box.
Centre forward, Joe Gaetjens, jumped as his teammates moved in to collect it. It wasn’t a header as much as a graze. But it was enough. And in the blink of an eye, the English keeper was on the ground, the net rippling behind him.
The USA were ahead. England weren’t able to pull it back. The crowd got behind the Americans as they fought off
attack
after
attack,
the
underdogs
transforming
before
their
eyes
into
unlikely
heroes.
The match really marked the end of England’s campaign. They didn’t seem to recover from
the
shock,
losing
1-0
to
Spain
in
their
final
group
game.
But one man from that squad would take his heartbreak and turn it into something very special.
Right-back
Alf
Ramsey.
Remember that name. You’ll hear it again. And while the world watched on in amazement, one team was taking a very easy route to
the
final
group.
Due to last-minute withdrawals by France and Turkey, the fourth group of teams contained
only
Uruguay
and
Bolivia.
A
group
of
two
alongside
two
groups
of
four
and
a
group
of
three!
Uruguay won their only group match 8-0. They barely broke a sweat. No energy wasted. Lots still in reserve.
THE FINAL GROUP STAGE
Brazil entered the final group stage with Sweden, Spain and Uruguay. Just three matches
from
victory.
And so it began. Seven goals against Sweden. Six against Spain. They seemed unstoppable. The crowd at the Maracanã roared so loudly the ground seemed to shake. Brazil had an incredible forward line. Their star striker, Ademir was everywhere — sharp,
fast
and
clinical.
With
nine
goals
in
the
tournament,
he
would
go
on
to
be
awarded
the
Golden
Boot.
And then there was Zizinho. The playmaker. An architect of complete brilliance. Some Brazilians
say
he
was
the
greatest
footballer
their
country
ever
produced.
Better even, some say, than the one you might be thinking of. Brazil entered the decisive final round-robin match against Uruguay needing only a draw
to
be
crowned
world
champions.
Uruguay needed to win. They almost hadn’t made it this far. They'd drawn their first match against Spain and scraped
wins
in
others.
It seemed entirely impossible that they could meet Brazil on Brazilian turf, in front of 200,000
Brazilian
fans,
and
come
away
as
victors.
The Brazilian football association had primed a celebratory edition of its magazine. A Rio
newspaper
had
already
printed
a
front
page
declaring
Brazil
world
champions.
The samba bands were ready. But so was Uruguay.
THE DECIDING MATCH July 16th, 1950. The Maracanã, Rio de Janeiro. The day began before sunrise with queues stretching back from the stadium gates for miles.
People
had
slept
in
the
streets
overnight
just
to
get
a
good
spot.
By
kick-off,
an
estimated
200,000
people
were
packed
inside.
Another
30,000
or
so
were
outside,
unable
to
get
in,
listening
for
any
hint
of
what
they
were
missing.
The noise as the two teams walked out was extraordinary. It didn't sound like the noise of
a
crowd;
it
was
more
like
a
storm. Brazil came out in white shirts as Uruguay had claimed blue. They were greeted like conquering
heroes.
From the starting whistle, Brazil lived up to expectation. They attacked relentlessly, making
17
challenges
towards
the
goal
in
the
first
half
alone.
Uruguay’s
defence
was
pummeled!
But it stood firm. And buoyed by the leadership of captain Obdulio Varela, the most hopeful shot at goal actually
came
from
the
Uruguayans.
Varela was not the tallest man on the pitch. He was not the fastest, nor the most technically
gifted.
He was something rarer than any of those things. He was utterly, completely, unshakeably
calm. While the Maracanã pressed down on his teammates like a physical weight — the noise,
the
crowd,
the
colour,
the
sheer
size
of
what
they
were
facing — Varela
moved
through
it
all
as
if
none
of
it
could
touch
him.
He talked to his defenders constantly. He put himself between his teammates and the crowd,
shielding
them
from
the
noise
with
his
body
and
his
voice. He had decided, somewhere in himself, that 200,000 people would not be enough to beat
his
team. At half-time, the scoreboard read 0-0. It was still all to play for.
What gets said in team dressing rooms between minute 45 and 46 of a match like that? What
can
managers
and
captains
possibly
say
to
motivate
their
players
to
victory?
Your guess is as good as mine. But whatever Brazilian Captain Augusto da Costa said, inspired Friaça to score just 2 minutes
into
the
second
half.
Receiving
a
pass
from
Zizinha,
he
cut
inside
past
one
defender,
saw
the
angle
opening
up,
and
drove
the
ball
low
and
hard
into
the
far
corner
of
the
net.
The crowd roared, the sky was coloured with flares and fireworks, and 200,000 people cheered
in
unison.
It was deafening! Reporters in the press box couldn’t hear each other speak! And as the stadium shook with the volume of the onlooking crowd, something happened that
changed
the
trajectory
of
the
match.
Varela slowly walked into the Uruguayan goal, and picked up the ball. While the Brazilians celebrated as if the Cup was already theirs, he walked calmly to the linesman
and
claimed
that
the
goal
had
been
off-side.
He demanded that the referee hear his argument through an interpreter, and this obviously
took
time
to
facilitate.
He wasn't genuinely contesting the goal. He was buying minutes. Time for his teammates to catch their breath. Time for the noise to begin to die down. The world's biggest, loudest stadium was being turned down by one man's sheer force of
personality. When the argument was finally over, Varela walked to the centre circle, placed the ball down,
looked
back
at
his
teammates
and
said:
"Now,
it's
time
to
win." The goal hadn't broken Uruguay. It had woken them up. They began to play differently. With a patience that Brazil, in all their brilliance and all their
noise,
weren't
expecting.
When Juan Schiaffino equalised for Uruguay in the 66th minute, silence rippled through the
crowd
like
a
cold
wind.
Two
hundred
thousand
people,
utterly
still.
But they gathered themselves, and found their voices. The celebration wasn’t cancelled, it was just slightly delayed. A draw in this match was still a victory in the tournament. But something had shifted in the stadium. There was a trace of doubt, where before there
had
been
none.
With 11 minutes left on the clock, Alcides Ghiggia got the ball on the right wing. Ghiggia was frighteningly quick. He had been Brazil's biggest headache all match — direct
and
difficult
to
close
down.
He
had
been
the
man
who
provided
the
cross
for
Schiaffino's
equaliser. Brazil's keeper, Moacir Barbosa, moved off his line as Ghiggia cut inside. He had seen Ghiggia do this before. He knew what was coming — a low cross into the box
for
Schiaffino.
Barbosa moved to cut it off. But Ghiggia didn't cross. He shot into the gap that Barbosa had just vacated. Low and fast inside the near post. The ball hit the net. Ghigghia had pressed mute. The stadium fell completely silent. Two hundred thousand people could hear nothing but the thumping of their own hearts. Ghiggia would later say: "Only three people have ever silenced the Maracanã — the Pope,
Frank
Sinatra,
and
me." He wasn't wrong. Uruguay 2, Brazil 1.
And in those moments when they really needed the Maracana, it didn’t come. The Brazilian
team
tried
to
push
back.
But,
as
Varela
said
later,
they
had
nothing
left.
Their
psychological
advantage
was
gone.
The nerves of the Uruguayans had been gifted back to the Brazilians. They played with the
fear
of
inevitable
loss.
And
in
the
time
between
Ghigghia’s
goal
and
the
final
whistle,
almost
no
sound
came
from
the
crowd.
It was a heartbreak unlike anything Brazil could remember. Street parties cancelled, newspaper
printings
recalled.
There were reports of people dying of heart attacks as they listened at home on their radios.
The
shock
and
despair
literally
killed
people.
And meanwhile, on the pitch, the Uruguayans silently hugged one another in muted celebration.
There was no ceremony. No trophy presentation had been planned because everyone had assumed Brazil would win.
FIFA president Jules Rimet reportedly found Varela in the tunnel and handed him the trophy
almost
apologetically.
There was no podium, no fanfare, no speeches. Just a small golden cup, pressed quietly into a stunned man's hands.
THE AFTERMATH
In Brazil, what happened next was called the “Maracanazo”. For those of us with less than
perfect
Portuguese,
that
means
the
Maracanã
blow
–
the
wound.
And
that’s
exactly
how
it
felt.
Some Brazilians never recovered – neither players nor fans. Barbosa — the goalkeeper who had moved for a cross that never came — was blamed by
many
Brazilians
for
the
defeat
for
the
rest
of
his
life.
Pointed
out
in
the
street
as
the
man
who
made
all
of
Brazil
cry.
He
said
he
spent
50
years
paying
the
price
for
a
crime
he didn’t commit in a country where the greatest prison sentence a court can hand down
is
30
years.
He was never picked for Brazil again. When the Maracanã was refurbished in the 1960s, he was gifted the posts from his infamous
goal.
He burnt them.
Now, how about some mind-blowing facts that you won't find in the main story?
1.Before the tournament began, FIFA vice-president Dr Ottorino Barassi revealed that he
had
hidden
the
World
Cup
trophy
in
a
shoebox
under
his
bed
for
the
entire
duration
of
the
Second
World
War
to
stop
the
Nazis
from
seizing
it.
2.Before the decisive match, Jules Rimet had already prepared his congratulatory speech
in
Portuguese.
The
Brazilian
players
were
handed
gold
watches
in
the
changing
room
before
kick-off — as
if
they
had
already
won.
3.This was the first World Cup in which players had numbers on their backs. Imagine trying
to
commentate
for
a
radio
audience
without
them.
4.The Maracanã was built in just two years and was the largest stadium in the world at the
time.
It
still
wasn't
finished
when
the
tournament
kicked
off.
Workers
were
adding
concrete
as
teams
trained
on
the
pitch
below.
5.England's 1-0 defeat by the USA was so unbelievable that some British newspapers assumed
it
was
a
misprint
and
reported
the
score
as
10-1
to
England
instead.
If you enjoyed this episode, make sure you’re following The World Cup Files — it’s the best
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Next time: Switzerland, 1954. A complete goal-fest! And a player whose heart stopped on
the
pitch — before
he
got
back
up
and
finished
the
match.
I’ll see you there. File closed.