Why soccer matters

Review by Booklist Review

These days, it's difficult to appreciate the fame of Edson Arantes do Nascimento or Pele. The soccer prodigy who helped Brazil win three World Cups became a global sports superstar at the dawn of the TV era, and like the Beatles, he was famous when there weren't really rules for it yet. His first-person account will please sports fans with its tales of his quick success for the Santos football club, magical World Cup moments, and victory lap with the New York Cosmos. But it's the personal insights that make it worthwhile. Interestingly, he never liked his nickname but came to use the persona of Pele as a shield against celebrity. Describing his growth as a person and player, he comes across as a thoughtful, humble, self-deprecating man well aware of his talents, his failings, and his good fortune. And his frequent observations on how different things were back then at the 1958 World Cup in Sweden, Brazil's team shirts were bought at a Stockholm department store provide a fascinating contrast to the corporate world of sports today.--Graff, Keir Copyright 2014 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Library Journal Review

In the short list of celebrities known by one name, Brazil's Pele (born Edson Arantes do Nascimento) stands alone above -Lebron, Michael, Magic, and all the others. The most prolific scorer the game has ever known, he won three World Cups of soccer (1958, 1962, 1970) with Brazil, and is the greatest soccer athlete of all time. In 1950, Rio hosted the fourth World Cup competition. Brazil lost the final match to Uruguay, which is where Pele's story begins. Five of the chapters here center on four years: the three when Brazil won the cup and this year, when the country will host the games again. The star has already published two autobiographies (one in 1977 and one 30 years later), and he repeats personal details in this account, in an easy, accessible style, covering personal highs (he doesn't shy away from self-congratulatory pats on the back) and lows. His focus, however, is on why soccer matters-politically, socially, and as a world sport. VERDICT Pele's superstar status and the 2014 World Cup's start in Brazil this June make this an optimal choice for all interested readers.-Boyd Childress, formerly with Auburn Univ. Libs., AL (c) Copyright 2014. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

Soccer's biggest global icon discusses the sport he loves. Edson Arantes do Nascimento, aka Pel, is the greatest player in the history of soccer and one of the greatest athletes of all time. For decades, he has been his sport's best ambassador. A winner of three World Cups for his native Brazil and a legend for Brazilian club Santos and for the short-lived New York Cosmos, Pel is especially well-equipped to reflect on the "beautiful game," a phrase that he may have coined. Not quite memoir, not quite history, this book provides an engaging reflection on international football in the World Cup era. Pel's voice shines through, and for this, Winter (Long After Midnight at the Nio Bien: A Yanqui's Missteps in Argentina, 2008, etc.) deserves praise. The co-author captures Pel's passion and commitment in a chatty, conversational tone. Pel uses five sections, based on different World Cups, to structure the narrative, beginning with the 1950 World Cup, which Brazil lost in heartbreakingand for Brazilians, hauntingfashion. This beginning allows Pel to tell of his boyhood, his relationship with his father, whose own football-playing career represents a what-might-have-been story, and his early exposure to the game. The four remaining sections center on the 1958 World Cup, which saw the first of Brazil's world-record five world championships; 1970, another Brazil win and Pel's last cup as a player; 1994, which took place in the United States and which Pel supported (over Brazil, which also wanted to host the event); and the upcoming 2014 Cup in Pel's native country, for which this book is timed. Pel never fully demonstrates "why soccer matters," but he does provide insight into the world's most popular game through the eyes of its most revered figure.]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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July 16, 1950 "Gooooooooooallllllll!!!!!!" We laughed. We screamed. We jumped up and down. All of us, my whole family, gathered in our little house. Just like every other family, all across Brazil. Three hundred miles away, before a raucous crowd in Rio de Janeiro, mighty Brazil was battling tiny Uruguay in the final game of the World Cup. Our team was favored. Our moment had come. And in the second minute of the second half, one of our forwards, Friaca, shook off a defender and sent a low ball bouncing toward goal. Past the goalie, and into the net it went. Brazil 1, Uruguay 0. It was beautiful--even if we couldn't see it with our own eyes. There was no TV in our small city. For most Brazilians, there was just the radio. Our family had a giant set, standing in the corner of our main room, which we were now dancing around madly, whooping and hollering. I was nine years old, but I will never forget that feeling: the euphoria, the pride. I remember my mother, her easy smile. And my father, my hero, so restless during those years, so frustrated by his own broken soccer dreams--suddenly very young again, embracing his friends, overcome with happiness. It would last exactly 19 minutes. We, like millions of other Brazilians, had yet to learn one of life's hard lessons--in life, as in soccer, nothing is certain until the whistle blows. Final score: Uruguay 2, Brazil 1. * * * Prior to that day--a date that every Brazilian remembers, like the death of a loved one-- it was hard to imagine anything capable of bringing our country together. Brazilians were separated by so many things back then. Our country's enormous size was one of them. Our little city of Bauru, high on a plateau in the interior of Sao Paulo state, seemed a world away from the glamorous, beachside capital in Rio. If we felt distant from Rio that day, I can only imagine how my fellow Brazilians in the Amazon, or in the vast Pantanal swamp, or on the rocky, arid sertao of the northeast, must have felt. In truth, though, it wasn't just geography that kept us apart. Brazil, a bountiful place in many ways, blessed with gold and oil and coffee and a million other gifts, could seem like two different countries. The tycoons and politicians in Rio had their Paris- style mansions, their horse racing tracks, and their beach vacations, while roughly half of Brazilians typically didn't get enough to eat. Just one in three knew how to read properly. This inequality was rooted in our politics, our culture, and in our history--I was part of only the third generation of my family born free. Many years later, after my playing days were over, I would meet the great Nelson Mandela in Johannesburg. He said to me: "Pele, here in South Africa, we have many different people, speaking many different languages. There in Brazil, you have so much wealth, and only one language. So why is your country not rich? Why is your country not united?" I had no answer for him then, and I have no perfect answer now. But in my 73 years, I have seen progress. And I know when I believe it began. Standing around the radio, and suffering together on July 16, 1950, gave Brazilians a shared experience. For the first time, rich and poor alike had something in common, something they could discuss with anybody on the street corner, whether they were in Rio, Bauru, or deep in the Amazon. We take this sort of thing for granted now; but it was very important back then, in creating a common story of what it meant to be Brazilian. We weren't strangers anymore. And I don't think we ever really were again. Finally: For a generation of aspiring soccer players like me, July 16, 1950, was motivating in ways that I couldn't possibly exaggerate. As I watched my dad cry, and my mom trying to comfort him, I slipped into my parents' room. They had a picture of Jesus on the wall. I burst into tears as I addressed Him. "Why did this happen?" I sobbed. "Why did it happen to us? Why, Jesus, why are we being punished?" There was no answer, of course. But as my despair subsided, it was replaced by something else--something deeper. I dried my tears, walked into the living room, and put my hand on my dad's arm. "It's ok, dad," I told him. "One day, I promise, I'll win the World Cup for you." Excerpted from Why Soccer Matters by Pelé, Brian Winter All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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