Famous name, obscure origin

Although I have been a lifelong admirer of Pelé, I confess I don't think I had ever known where the celebrated monicker came from. Now we have an answer, in this little biographical summary from the almost always diverting Tifo (a sub-channel of The Athletic magazine's Youtube presence, but far more entertaining and wothwhile than the great majority of their regular content).

For me, those 'greatest of all time' debates never get off the ground. If you were lucky enough to see Pelé in his prime (or even past his prime: I recall some absolutely stunning moments from his time with the New York Cosmos team in the mid-70s), there is no debate: he did everything that the later greats did, but did it more consistently, with more zest, with more athleticism. Everyone since has been inspired by Pelé, everyone has tried to emulate him; a few have come very close, but no-one has surpassed him.

What he did in the 1970 World Cup - and I was a tiny boy at the time, watching on a grainy old black-and-white TV - was other-worldly. I can't think of any other player who has become so celebrated, so beloved for a goal he didn't score - let alone three of them: that magnificent downward header that was somehow spooned around the foot of the post in a 'Save of the Century' from Gordon Banks, the outrageous dummy around the Uruguayan keeper on the edge of the box, and the attempt to lob the Czech keeper from a few yards inside his own half (perfect length on the shot, but it drifted just inches wide of the post). And these were just the stupendous highlights. In every match, just about every time he got on the ball, you held your breath, expecting something magical, something impossible to happen - and very often it did. Watching these performances, I began to understand why he called football the beautiful game; it stopped being merely a sport and transformed into an art.