Inside the walking, talking, living icon called Pele, a 65-year-old man named Edson still breathes and smiles and calls out ”Hello!”
Sauntering down the corridor of a hushed Knightsbridge hotel in London, on his way to promote the new autobiography of Pele, the voice of Edson Arantes Do Nascimento is heard first. It is a chuckling burble, belonging to an old but very real man. His legendary face, meanwhile, often splits open with delight in a way that the screen somehow flattens whenever Pele is wheeled into another television studio.
It takes a little time, however, to reach that point. Surrounded by a gaggle of agents and publicists, cameramen and podcasters, in a room suddenly looking crammed and forlorn, the surprisingly short Pele initially looks besieged. The circles of handshakes and glazed greetings begin. This is the public life of Pele. It could, for all we know, be a kind of private hell.
”I was really proud that I was named after Thomas Edison and wanted to be called Edson,” he discloses in one of his book’s more touching passages. ”I thought Pele sounded horrible. It was a rubbish name. Edson sounded so much more serious and important.”
The simple fact that the greatest-ever footballer, the player who has done most to illuminate the world game, should be named after the man who brought us electric light seems as poignant as it is significant. And then, as if flipping a switch, Pele gives the signal. The hotel suite empties quickly and he sinks into a plush couch. He looks weary and, abruptly, very human.
”As I get older,” he reveals, ”I’d definitely like to be a bit more like Edson, and to make Edson and Pele better friends.” He sighs and shrugs at the strange dichotomy of his life. ”I love ‘Pele’ — the only difference is that if someone says I’m going to have dinner with Edson, then that’s OK. Edson is the person that supports Pele. Edson is the base. Pele just comes and adds the face.”
He sounds more like Edson when he compares, with amused resignation, our gimmicky times with his own innocent playing days. ”Today, when a guy scores at the Maracana he goes behind the goal and he’s almost already on his phone, saying ‘Mummy, I scored!’ I think we had a stronger base, a stronger connection with people. And there was more respect for the game, because top footballers today don’t have that connection. One season they play with one team and the next season they play with another team. They play more for money than love. I think for the fans it’s very tough. There used to be a good relation between the star and the team but no more … I worry about this lack of loyalty.”
Pele might not appreciate the full extent of Thierry Henry’s tangled commitment to Arsenal, but the failure of Ronaldinho to light up the Champions League final elicits further ambivalence. ”Ronaldinho usually plays better but he was well marked … but the big challenge for him will be this World Cup. He still has a lot to prove. Ronaldinho is an excellent player but he hasn’t proved it yet in a tournament like the World Cup. He now needs to show the same form there that he does for his club. He has a good opportunity now.”
His relationship with Ronaldo is more fractious. ”Ah, Ronaldo, the phenomenon,” he laughs dryly when remembering their recent public spat. ”I was defending him when I talked about him. I said listen, Real Madrid has a big problem. They change a lot of players and coaches but people are only saying Ronaldo is not in shape. It’s the whole of Real Madrid that is not in shape — not just Ronaldo. That’s what I said. He then spoke very angrily: ‘Oh, Pele should not talk about my life!’ But I don’t care. It doesn’t bother me.
”But Ronaldo is different to Ronaldinho. Ronaldo is a striker while Ronaldinho is a very skilful player who comes from midfield. To be a striker you need to be in good shape. Unless Ronaldo gets into good shape he cannot produce. We had the same problem with him in France when, before the final, he was not in good shape. We’re concerned because he’s an important player for us.”
Pele suggests that ”if you look at Brazil, England, Italy, Holland or France — every one of them can win. They are top teams”. But, more tellingly, he argues that ”Brazil is the best team — definitely. I think this year Brazil has one big advantage. They can replace players. Look at England, for example. Who can replace Rooney? They don’t have anyone of the same level to replace him. It’s the same with Italy. It was the same with France when Zidane got injured … they didn’t have a player to replace him. But Brazil, in this World Cup, has got good replacements. That’s the big difference.
”I think England is good, very well organised, but they need someone to give them something special. When I first saw Rooney I said the same thing I did when I watched Michael Owen at 18. I said you have a good player and some journalists say, ‘Ah, but he is too young.’ I said he has the talent. I hope [Rooney] will recover.”
As for England’s most surprising young tyro, the temptation to compare Theo Walcott at 17 to the Pele who inspired Brazil to World Cup glory in 1958 is easily resisted. ”I played for Santos at 16 and we had an excellent team so it helped a lot. And then I played for Brazil at the Maracana against Argentina. So I got more experience. This was one year before the World Cup and it made a lot of difference.”
At the 2002 World Cup, Pele added to his enigmatic reputation as a pundit by celebrating Nicky Butt as his player of the tournament. He looks briefly embarrassed. ”I think people get confused.” But at least Pele does laugh when I ask if he ever got to meet his hero. ”No, I never met Nicky Butt but, for example now, England have a midfielder …” His voice trails away as he searches for a name. ”Lampard?” Pele shakes his head. ”Gerrard?” I say next.
”Yes! Gerrard! Two years ago I saw Gerrard play and then I saw him in Tokyo in a game against Sao Paulo. I said then that Gerrard is a great player. To me he is one of the best midfielders in the world. He is an excellent player. No one talked about him two or three years ago — but I did. I liked him very much.”
There’s something endearing about Pele’s ramshackle attempt to claim being among the first to spot the immense value of Gerrard. And there is something even more likeable about him as, handed a ball for the photo session, he pulls a face when asked to kiss it for the camera. ”Everybody does that,” he protests quietly, before he nuzzles up against the ball and pretends to fall into a blissful sleep.
”I love you,” he sighs when he finally opens his eyes to look at the ball with something close to comic wonder. ”You have given me everything.”
And then he walks over and signs the autograph books belonging to two small boys I know. While he scrawls he talks about the occasional game of five-a-side football he plays back home in Brazil. He smiles when I ask him how well he’s playing these days. ”Not bad,” Pele says, again looking like a gently ageing man called Edson, ”but I’ve lost a little of my pace.”
He passes the books back to me. ”OK?” he says as I look down. I’m almost expecting to see the real signature of Edson — but, instead, he has written his more famous name at the bottom of each message. And Edson Arantes Do Nascimento nods and grins again. He knows. ”Pele”, on the page, still looks beautiful. — Â