You and Eleno de Freytas are sharing the same apartment.
-Friend of mine. A star. -Rosa. Hey.
Rosa, honey, that's Saldanha.
I know. So I heard.
So, João…
I know you've been a war correspondent.
But that story you tell about, uh, Normandy and D-Day…
Yeah, I was there.
Saw Marshal Montgomery.
Really? The man who turned the Nazi's back, huh?
Well, not by himself.
And you got to be the first Brazilian to enter communist China!
-Crazy. -I doubt that. Really?
Come on. Communist China?
Show him.
Appendicitis.
And mind you, no anesthesia.
They used some of those needles for, uh, acupuncture.
Tore it right out.
Having an appendectomy in China's nothing.
What's tough is playing a semifinal against Uruguay
after what happened in '50.
Hang on, Saldanha. Is your friend talking about the Maracanazo?
Uruguayan?
Mexican.
That's better.
The Maracanazo…
Nothing compares to that.
That day started out differently.
It was the first World Cup in Brazil,
and the country finally felt like it was finding its place in the world.
The Maracanã was packed.
The biggest crowd in history.
200,000 people watched the final.
He enters the box, strikes with his right foot… goal!
We scored first.
Everyone felt like Carnival in Brazil.
Everyone was dying to experience something we'd never felt before…
LONG LIVE BRAZIL
…being champions. We were very close to the trophy.
Even a draw would've done it.
Míguez shoots… and it's a goal!
-Miquez scores for Uruguay! -But then…
The match is tied at the Maracanã.
Everything fell apart.
The Uruguayans somehow messed with our minds.
They rattled our side with their underhanded tactics.
Obdulio Varela, the Uruguayan captain, treated us like we were scum.
He even gave our fullback, Bigode, a little slap on the face.
Bigode just bowed down and took it.
Every Brazilian felt it.
A second goal was unavoidable at that point.
Uruguay's dominating this game.
BARBOSA COULDN'T HOLD THE BALL
Brazil cannot let fear take over.
Brazil is playing scared.
RESOUNDING SILENCE
Can Brazil defeat the ghost of Maracanazo?
WE WILL NEVER FORGET
AFRAID OF URUGUAY
Ugh, seriously? You gotta be kidding me.
Whoa.
Uruguay's not all that. They're not some boogeyman, alright?
It's right here, laid out for all of you to see.
Listen, boys…
Facing Uruguay is no fucking joke.
Do you know about our history?
Yeah, we all know our history.
I know our starting goalie let one in he should've saved, he bungled.
-Focus on yourself, Leão. -That's how it happened.
-Knock it off! -What happened to Barbosa in that final…
Nobody deserves that.
Moacir Barbosa do Nascimento.
The greatest goalkeeper of his time.
He was part of the Victory Express.
Won every major title with Vasco.
The Carioca, the South American, the Rio-São Paulo.
He was the obvious choice to defend Brazil's goal.
But it only took one shot…
Shoot it!
…to tarnish Barbosa's glorious legacy.
And then my friends, the world just crashed down upon that man.
Nobody who was there would fail to remember
Alcides Ghiggia's long run to our corner.
The bleachers went…
silent.
One goal…
was enough to ruin that man's life.
Félix, hey, don't worry, you're not gonna choke.
Hey, man, you're not gonna choke.
-Plus, man, you're white. I mean… -Hey, listen. Listen!
What's with this bullshit?
Stop tempting fate, man!
What the hell is this?
Zagallo…
What is that, Mário?
These boys need to know, Zagallo.
They don't need to know shit!
We have a war ahead of us, and you're digging up the past now?
I witnessed everything from the locker room that day.
A rival like Uruguay is unlike any other.
You should know better than anybody, Zagallo.
Oh, I get it, Mário. And…
I want revenge.
Oh, really?
How 'bout you do this, then? Think about it when you're on the pitch,
but leave the goddamn ghosts outside the locker room!
What the hell?
BARBOSA DIDN'T HOLD IT AND BRAZIL LOST THE TITLE.
WILL HISTORY REPEAT ITSELF?
Brazil woke up to a nightmare the next day.
The whole country was in mourning.
The worst part is our entire campaign was brilliant.
We won so many matches by a landslide.
But after that awful, godforsaken final,
we let ourselves be branded as losers. And then…
…our pride and joy, our football, became a nightmare overnight.
And to this day, Brazilians have an inferiority complex.
Jesus, man, I got goosebumps.
What if history repeats itself, you know?
Félix has been messing up a lot lately…
In so many games, man.
You should tell them to put him on the bench, João.
Mm-mmm.
I got nothing to do with that anymore.
Those decisions are no longer my problem. Life goes on.
What do you mean? This is the World Cup!
João, our players respect you.
Talk to them, try. They'll listen to you.
No, no, no, come on, let's let sleeping dogs lie, all right?
No, we gotta do something.
Put Ado in his place! Tell them to put Ado in.
-Put Leão in! -Yeah, Leão.
-We're Brazilian, we can't give up now. -Okay. Okay, okay.
Fine, I'll see what I can do.
-Ah! -Yes!
We've gotta try.
Yeah, that's what I'm talking about!
Hey, Lígia, doesn't your dad play for Brazil?
You know he does. Quit messing around.
Yeah, well he's not in the album.
The only goalies are Ado and Leão.
But… he should be in here.
-It's 'cause he's got butterfingers. -"Butterfingers"?
-Yeah. -What's that?
You don't know?
Félix Butterfingers! Félix Butterfingers!
-Félix Butterfingers! -Her dad has butterfingers!
Butterfinger dad!
First of all, forget about the damn ghost.
They're a flesh-and-blood team, just like you.
If you keep obsessing and worrying about players from the past,
you'll lose in the present.
Ghosts can't dribble past you.
But Cubilla sure as hell can.
A dangerous forward, he's fast, agile.
Riva will have to defend like his life depends on it.
There's also the bull in the back:
Mazurkiewicz.
One of the best goalkeepers in the world. Nothing gets past him.
They're cunning and slippery.
But you wanna know where they really make their mark?
Gamesmanship.
They'll provoke you, they'll hit you,
step on you, spit, and curse your mother.
Don't take the bait!
Especially from this guy here: Fontes.
He's a troublemaker.
At times even violent.
Play it smart.
Remember, you've already faced far worse opponents
in São Januário and Vila Belmiro.
Control and focus.
They'll summon the ghosts of 1950.
What is this? The old guard's afraid of ghosts now, huh?
Hey, guys, really?
-You gonna wet the bed? -Why don't you fuck off?
-Watch your mouth. -Show some respect.
Enough with this ghost-from-the-1950s bullshit!
Goddammit!
These kids think it's funny.
We're up against more than a team. They don't get that, Zé.
No, Pelé.
This is only about a team.
We take down this team and then we're on to the final.
Focus on that and forget everything else!
I can't.
-I saw my dad cry, Zagallo. -Yeah?
I saw 200,000 fans cry.
I was there at Maracanã.
The Uruguayans are world champions
in what can only be described as an…
I was young, doing my military service.
I was one of the soldiers assigned to secure the match.
I never thought 200,000 people could be so quiet.
And in silence, they all went home.
All but one.
His heart couldn't take it, he died right there in the stands.
You see?
-We should retaliate. -No!
These omens should be forgotten…
or the ghost becomes too powerful.
Hey, Félix. Is everything okay? Did something happen?
Yeah, I couldn't sleep. Haven't slept a wink.
Then I thought with the time difference, you'd probably be up by now.
Lígia really misses you, honey.
And so do I. It's Daddy!
-Hey, Daddy. -Hey, princess.
Dad, can I ask you something?
Of course, baby.
Why isn't your photo in the World Cup album?
Oh, right, the album.
That's because when they made the album, Daddy hadn't been called up yet.
So, um, Daddy, this boy in school, Alvinho,
said that you weren't in there because…
Because you have butterfingers.
What does that mean, Daddy?
Butterfingers?
-Daddy? -Yeah, that's, uh…
That's because, when Daddy was a boy, I, uh…
I used to sell butter at the farmers' market, honey.
-Why don't you give Mommy the phone? -Okay.
-Hey, love. -Marlene…
Hey, please tell Lígia to stop paying attention to those kids.
I'll take care of things here.
You take care of yourself. Okay?
Yeah, hon, okay. I gotta hang up now.
Pelé?
-He'll fall into the pool. -Shh.
Is he okay? What's wrong with him?
Pelé?
Hey, buddy.
It's okay.
Here, sit down.
Easy.
Psst! Pelé.
Edson?
Are you…
-a sleepwalker? -I think he is.
What, what?
Geez. I thought you were Dracula for a second.
You almost gave me heart attack.
It's nothing.
I do that sometimes.
Since I was a kid.
The semifinal's really weighing on you.
Come on, Brazil, it's the last minute of the game.
He prepares to take the corner.
It's curving into the box, but the defense clears it!
And the match is over.
Uruguay beats Brazil 2 to 1
in a shocking turn of events.
Pops?
The whole country is weeping.
200,000 Brazilians leave Maracanã Stadium with their heads bowed in shame.
You don't have to cry anymore, Dad.
I'll win the World Cup for you someday.
Come on, Pelé! Let's go. Focus in!
Come on, King! Let's go, let's go.
Do your worst. Fire away!
Go, Leão!
Good one!
Nice block, Leão.
Félix!
You've got this! Don't let 'em through.
Tell him, Papagaio.
-Make it count! -Approach straight on.
Good one!
-Nice shot! -Go, Félix!
Félix, don't dive too early.
Come on, Félix.
You gotta block one.
Let's go, man.
My god, block something.
Hey, Zagallo!
How's the team feeling about going up against Uruguay?
Will it be 1950 all over again?
Hey now, come on.
We opened our practice in good faith.
So don't bring all that sensationalism. Let me work.
-I'm working too, man. -Oh, please! Enough already.
I can't even do my job, then?
Let's go! Come on, boys!
Let's keep up the intensity, guys!
Hey, isn't it about time you put Ado or Leão between the sticks?
You really gonna risk a semifinal against Uruguay?
Come again, Saldanha?
Look, Félix had his chance.
He hasn't gotten through a match without letting in a soft one.
Enough already.
What gives you the right to come in here with your opinions?
Oh, I'm not the only one.
There's 90 million other Brazilians.
Ninety million Brazilians, but I'm the coach here!
So it's my decision to put Félix or my granny in goal, it's mine!
Your time has passed, Saldanha.
Deal with it.
Get the fuck outta here!
I can see myself out.
Saldanha, it's Saldanha, why are they kicking him out?
Excuse me, please. Thank you very much.
Embarrassing himself over and over again.
Hey, Félix, you with us?
Félix, we're waiting!
Come on!
Let's go, Riva, let's go!
Riva! Hit it hard, 'cause the Uruguayans won't hold back.
Go for it!
Blast it, Riva!
That's it, nice shot!
Stop, time out!
Are you hurt?
-What's wrong? -Fuck…
What happened?
-Shit. -You okay?
Come on. You're good. Here, sit up. You're gonna be all right.
-You got this. -His hand's swelling up.
Is it broken?
-You okay, man? -No, it's not broken.
It's just swollen.
Let's have Félix go with Dr. Lídio. That's enough for today.
It's 'cause we messed with that damn ghost. You see? This is serious!
Let's go, let's go. That's enough! Training is over.
That's it for today, guys, that's it for today. Come on, come on.
Careful! Careful!
That's enough, Riva. Hey, Riva, listen to me
Yeah… I don't know, bro.
It'll heal before the match.
The game's tomorrow. There's no time.
-It's a good thing it's not broken then. -I mean…
I, um…
I've been having visions, guys.
I saw an apparition, a ghost.
Jesus Christ!
This needs to stop!
-That's enough. What's with this crap? -I'm serious, man.
I saw Barbosa.
-You saw what? -Barbosa.
Félix…Félix, buddy. Barbosa's still alive.
Alive and kicking. He lives in Rio, man.
Guys, we're all nervous, we're not sleeping.
It's normal for us to get… a little confused, that's all.
Dear Lord, I pray for a healthy team and for Brazil. Amen.
wind whistling]
CAN BRAZIL BREAK THE TABOO?
Damn it!
20 YEARS LATER
No, no!
No, no, no, no…
Please, miss.
I… I need glue.
Glue. Glue.
-Uh… -Glue, for-for glueing.
-Like, actual glue? -For Santo Antonio's little head.
At this hour, you'll only find that downtown, sir. I'm sorry.
-Downtown? Gracias. -Yes, Downtown.
-Hey, you see Saldanha is here? -Where?
He was trying to pick a fight with some Uruguayans earlier.
-He was? -Yeah.
I think he's so nervous…
Hey, Mazzetti!
-Eusébio. How you doing? -Feeling confident, man?
Confident? You kidding? Were you at training?
Confident… Eusébio, Jesus Christ.
If that ball gets near the goalie, it's over.
-Uh-uh. -Over. Maracanazo.
-I'm telling you, man. Seriously-- -Shh!
Uh… Four tequila blancas, if you please, Juan.
-Claro. -Thanks.
I see you're still sore over what happened, Saldanha.
First you mess with my interview and now with the team's practice.
Is nothing off limits?
Huh?
Gracias, Juan.
Another one.
Hey, João,
I'm not sure if you've realized this yet but you're not their coach anymore.
It's time to let it go now.
-Will you shut your mouth, you ass-clown? -Move on!
-Shut up! -Don't do that, Mazzetti.
You know Saldanha, right?
You know that if things get hairy,
I won't be able to step in and help you out, don't you?
Hey, Uruguayans…
If you mess with that guy, he's gonna kick your asses…
-Don't do that. -You know that?
In 1950, you were humiliated at the Maracanazo.
You really want to go there?
I think it's you who're going to get your ass kicked again.
Like Ghiggia did.
Like Obdullo stuck his boot up your culo.
-It's a poem! -Listen, don't mind them. They're drunk.
Relax, brother.
This isn't 1950 anymore, you know?
Now we're two-time champions.
-Us too, we're also two-time champions. -So are we, jackass.
And we're real men!
-Not chickenshits like you. -Real men?
-Real men, wow! -Yeah!
What are you gonna do?
You haven't won anything in 20 years.
Hey, hey, hey!
-Get the hell out of here! -Ah, quit yapping!
THE LITTLE BAR DOWNTOWN WELCOME
Hey, Saldanha.
Our hotel is that way, man. Let's go.
Go ahead. I'll catch you later.
I need to go for a walk.
-Glue? -No.
Amigo, por favor.
Please. Glue?
-We're closed. -No, sir, please,
I need glue to glue something.
Sorry, we're closed.
No, help me out, por favor.
-Mañana. -No, not mañana! I need it today.
Zagallo!
You happy now?
The team's officially jinxed.
I'm sorry, I don't believe in bad omens.
You proud of yourself, you dick?
You undermined Félix's confidence, you shook him.
I just want the team to win.
Do you have a problem with that?
My locker room has become a complete madhouse.
I don't even think you and your big, dumb mouth
could handle them, to be honest.
I know it's none of my business anymore,
but do you remember?
Remember what?
Why we lost in 1950?
Why, Saldanha?
Because we were humiliated
and we bowed our heads to them.
I thought you weren't capable of beating Uruguay.
Until you kicked me out of practice today.
That right there.
That is what the team needs now.
You don't win anything by bowing down your head.
"It's far better to die on my feet
than to live on my knees."
"Dream, and you'll be free in spirit."
"Fight,
and you'll be free in life."
Don't you dare bow your head.
Don't you dare bow your head!
Ever!
To the Moreli Hotel, por favor.
Hey, Eusébio, look over there.
What are those two doing here?
That's life, buddy.
Welcome to Mexico, my brave people!
This big semifinal is just moments away here in Guadalajara.
Hey, Thereza, did Dad's letter ever arrive?
Thank you. It's here!
Wait, Thereza, where are you going?
I'm going as far away from this game as I can.
All right, come on. Let's read Dad's letter.
-Read it! -Calm down, hold on!
We're chill, read it!
"My dear children, how are things going in our country?"
"I wish I could be by your side right now."
"I hope the team's success is adding some brightness to the monotony of daily life."
-"You probably expected…" -…matter of mental fortitude.
Folks, this match promises to be one to remember.
Every pass out there bears a bit of history.
It's more than just a game,
it's a mission.
There's no other place in the world I should besides right here.
"…a country of wonders."
"The altitude still punishes my only lung,
and I've brought team jerseys,
but I'm only giving them to the folks who really cheer."
With kick-off moments away,
I don't think there's a single Brazilian who isn't thinking of Maracanã in 1950.
That disgrace at Maracanã lives on in our memories.
May the 11 players on the field today fight not only for themselves,
but for the 11 men who came before them,
and for the 90 million Brazilian hearts…
…that are pounding out of their chests at home.
Please, God.
C'mon, please, God. Please let this work.
-Come on. -And he's throwing all this salt.
Wait, did you bring actual salt, Leo?
I don't believe in witches, but just in case, worth a shot.
Well said.
Well said. Gimme some.
-Come on, Brazil! -Okay!
-Throw more! -Better safe than sorry!
Come on, Brazil!
Hey, hey, hey, hey, man. Listen to me, keep the pressure on.
Move up high. Eyes on their left defender.
-Make yourself available. -We got this.
-Let's go, gentlemen. -Come on.
Five minutes.
The game is ours.
-Let's go, Jair. -We got this.
Let's go.
FIELD ENTRANCE CENTRAL TUNNEL
Let's get excited. Focus.
Brazil! Here we go.
To the field! Here we go! Here we go!
It's game time! Time to focus!
Here we go!
Uh… I wanted to talk to you.
Go on then, Riva. What is it?
Look, I know I made fun of it. Okay?
But I didn't mean to disrespect you, or your memories.
And, man, I never meant to hurt Félix.
Do you think this team is cursed, Pelé?
Whoa.
We're about to step out there.
Look at me, man.
Wipe that look off your face and focus on the game.
You good?
Come on.
Let's fucking go!
Oh! Who's gonna score today?
-Daddy! -Daddy's gonna score!
Yes!
Oh, look, there he is! Do you see him?
It's Daddy!
Mommy, I fixed the album. Look.
So Daddy has good luck today.
That's very sweet.
Now sit down, it's about to start.
Hey, come on! Grab a seat, everyone.
Marlene, we're missing your guess.
Uh, 3-0, Brazil.
Everyone sit down. Come on, get over here. Hurry up. It's about to start.
-You're going home. -No, you are!
-You're going home. -You're going down.
Swap sides! Swap sides!
Let's go, hurry, let's go!
Watch out for the Maracanazo, Your Highness.
Get out of here! Brazil is gonna win today!
Who do we have here?
It's Barbosa but he's white.
Come on, Uruguay!
-I hope you packed your bags. -Asshole.
Hey asshole.
The rivalry between these teams hangs in the air.
You can sense the tension in the Brazilian squad.
Yeah, well, on the other side though, no one seems too calm either.
Brazil's no bed of roses.
And our rivals know that.
Uruguay yields to no one.
We beat Brazil before and we'll do it again.
People all across Mexico are feeling anxious today.
Since our elimination from the World Cup,
the whole country has come together in support of the Brazilian national team…
and we hold our breaths as their players prepare for kick off.
And that's the whistle from the Spanish referee,
marking the start of the semi-final for the World Cup of 1970!
Come along for the ride, my brave people!
Come on, breathe, breathe. Come on, Brazil. Come on, come on.
Move forward, Riva. I'll stay back.
Brazil starts the match by dominating the midfield.
-The marking is intense! -I'll get more space!
Uruguay resorting to heavy physical contact…
…in an attempt to rattle the Brazilians.
Let's go, Uruguay!
Control it, Clodoaldo!
Clodoaldo rolls the ball to Carlos Alberto.
He returns it to Clodoaldo.
-No! We're in danger! -Hey! Clear it!
-And Brito clears it! -Nice job!
We need to stay focused, we can't hand the ball
to the Uruguayans like that, come on now!
Recover, focus!
Tighten the defense! Don't let them through!
Look at Félix.
He looks absolutely rattled.
They've only just stepped onto the pitch, and already the nerves are showing.
Oh no! They've lost the ball to Uruguay!
Over there, over there!
Go over there!
Hey!
Fake it… Go!
Push up, push up!
Brazil's trying to find their footing.
They're playing precisely how the opposition hoped they would.
This'll be historic, Pepe!
Listen, right now they're playing like they showed up for a friendly.
Someone needs to remind these guys that this is a World Cup semifinal.
He passes to Jairzinho.
Ahh!
A nasty tackle from behind!
The Uruguayan ignored the ball and just went straight for our winger's legs!
See, this is the kind of game Uruguay came to play.
A lot of kicking and little talent.
They'll keep getting physical. That's their style of play.
But the Brazilian squad can't let them get in their heads.
The ball is back in play…
A long ball…
and the Uruguayan player heads it towards the midfield.
No, no, no, no, no, no.
What was that, Brito? He gave it away.
Here comes Uruguay's attack.
Brazil's caught out of position.
They're recovering, but Uruguay is already nearing the box.
Goal!
-Goal! -Goal…
Yes, Uruguay!
…for Uruguay.
And the ghost of Maracanazo is back!
-It was exactly what we needed. -What a goal!
Cubilla, number 7, shakes the net of the goalkeeper Félix,
and opens the scoring.
That's a costly mistake by the Brazilian defense,
and Uruguay punishes them for it.
They lead, one to nothing.
It's like a nightmare keeps lurking around the Brazilian goal.
This is tremendously disappointing, folks.
Our goalkeeper's failed, João.
Butterfingers.
"Failed" is an understatement.
He practically cleared the way for the shot.
Yes, my brave people,
It's up to us to find an equalizer before the first half comes to a close.
The situation is tense here at Jalisco Stadium in Guadalajara.
Boy, oh boy, oh boy.
Brazil looks like they've gone to sleep out there.
And this is a nation that prides itself on never backing down.
Brazil has to change their attitude. They've gotta face Uruguay head-on.
João, if they don't, Uruguay will keep dictating every second of this match.
It's a question of character now.
This team is unrecognizable.
It's like they're not even playing for a spot in the final.
Let's go. Come on. Come on, guys, come on.
Brazil hands the ball to Uruguay.
It feels like Brazil is trying to help Uruguay at this point.
Hey, hey, hey, watch him.
Uruguay maintains possession.
Something has to change, and fast, Saldanha.
Yeah. The Uruguayans are playing with real grit, like monsters…
…while our canaries just let 'em.
-Pull back! -Good job, Roberto!
Get around him!
Hey! Hey, hey!
Forty-four minutes, folks. It's the final stretch of the first half.
All right, all right… All right!
Get the fuck off me! There's always someone fucking behind me.
C'mon, c'mon!
The Brazilian team's pushing to score before the end of the half,
but it's been difficult.
Brazil controls the ball now.
Pass it up!
-Pass it to Riva. -Open it up, Piazza.
-Come on. -That's it!
I got it!
-From the box, Tostão! -Far post, Tostão!
Don't let him through, don't let him through!
-Yeah! -Nice goal!
Goal!
Goal, motherfucker! Come on!
Clodoaldo brings Brazil back from the brink!
One–one in Guadalajara, just seconds before the break!
-We're even with those bastards. -Head in the game. This match is ours.
-Come on! -Hey, we haven't won yet.
Keep your eyes open.
-Let's turn this around. -Let's fucking go.
It's our time!
Clodoaldo's moving well out there, you can tell he's confident.
The others are still finding their rhythm.
He deserves full credit for that goal.
Brazil! Brazil! Brazil!
And the whistle blows!
It's finally halftime here in Guadalajara.
What's Brazil missing right now?
How can they come back stronger in the second half, Saldanha?
It's all bad. We're missing all of it.
The truth is, that goal was a stroke of luck.
The team is playing a lousy game, let's be real.
Well, there are 45 more minutes of battle
soon coming your way, folks.
See ya after the break.
Uruguay's playing well.
-Oh, but that Brazilian goalie is shit. -I couldn't agree more.
That guy Félix is a disaster.
Hey, guys! Have some respect.
Ah, come on. Gimme a fucking break.
-A little consideration. -Yeah.
-Asking for a little respect. -Respect this, asshole.
Right.
They'd be better off without that sorry excuse of a goalkeeper.
Who the hell is Félix? He's garbage.
Félix is worse than Barbosa.
-He's worse than Barbosa. -No, yeah, absolutely.
Only I talk shit about my goalie.
Yeah?
-What the fuck?! -Got it?
You son of a--
-Come here, you fucker! -Whoa! Back off. No, no, no, no!
You asked for it, asshole!
Go on, speak!
-I can't hear you. I can't hear you! -João!
Get the fuck off him!
¡Policia! They're disrespecting us! Take them away!
-Get outta here! -Fuck you!
That's what you get for being disrespectful!
Ah, keep walking! Keep walking!
This isn't over!
Oh yeah, I'm so scared of you. Woo…
We're playing like shit.
Oh really? I hadn't noticed.
Hey, Zé…
I was wrong.
You were right. I shouldn't've brought up that ghost crap.
Zé.
Listen, the team needs you.
Right now.
Come on!
You get what I'm saying?
Look, we got the hardest part, which was the equalizer.
But everyone's all over the fucking place. Get your heads in the game.
That's right, man. Your goal kept us afloat.
Okay? The rest of us
-are fucking sinking! -We got this.
Rivellino! Where's the intensity?
From the first minute, where's the fight? Where's the heart, huh?
What the fuck are you doing out there?
Guys, what the fuck are you even doing out there?
You're comatose.
I didn't come all this way to get eliminated from the World Cup
because we're playing shit football!
They should fear us, not the other way around.
Their team is a goddamn joke!
It wasn't Barbosa's fault that Brazil lost in 1950.
It's very easy to point fingers, blame someone else.
But the loss is on the whole team!
And a team loses on the goddamn pitch!
All the other crap stays off the fucking field!
To hell with the curse of 1950!
To hell with Maracanazo!
That's in the past!
But you know what's in the present?
Us, being pushed around by a team worse than ours
because of some stupid, made-up ghost!
Fuck that!
Get your head outta your ass!
Fight your goddamn ghost!
You can't win a World Cup semifinal without real pride!
Without a fighting spirit, without courage!
Let's make sure the second half starts on our terms, and our tempo!
Let's show everyone that we're the best team in the entire world
because we goddamn are!
Because we are the Brazilian national team!
That's right, Zé!
Let's fucking go, boys!
-Let's fucking go! -Come on!
Boys! Let's go! We'll take them down in the second half!
Yeah, boys!
And we're back in action as the second half gets underway.
Look, I really hope they show some backbone.
It's time to remind those Uruguayans what Brazil is really made of.
Show 'em no mercy!
Brazil's team has more talent and courage than Uruguay.
Sure, they've landed a few blows,
but Brazil's also beaten up the Uruguayans.
Come on!
There goes Pelé. He battles Fontes for the ball.
Terrific strength, and he gets it! Pelé pushes forward now…
He's on the attack. He's going all out.
Dribbles past one, past two defenders.
He approaches the box and…
Foul!
Whoa! Oh boy!
-Hey! What the heck! -No call?
-Should be a red! -Do you have eyes, ref?
What the fuck?
Hey! He stepped on him!
-Whoa, whoa, whoa! -Just look!
-What the heck was that! -Are you kidding? That's ridiculous!
You crazy bastard!
Get up, your Highness.
Fuck off! Get out of here, bitch!
-Break it up! -You'll let them injure him?
The Brazilian players are outraged! Outraged, João!
Fontes is completely outta line.
Stepping on Pelé while he's down…
This guy's a real coward!
Not sure what we saw…
It should be a red! Expel him, come on!
-Play on. -"Carry on" my ass!
-They'll break Dico at this rate. -Oh God.
The game is still tied, and time's running out in Mexico.
Brazil! Brazil! Brazil!
A fine pass through to Pelé.
Pelé races down the wing. Fontes tracks him closely…
What?
Hey, ref, nothing in it, it was nothing!
Fontes falls one way, Pelé falls to the other!
Let's watch that replay. Let's see.
Pelé… Pelé swung an elbow right into his face.
Hit Fontes square in the jaw.
-That wasn't very nice, Saldanha, was it? -Thought it was a nice elbow.
Bigode stayed quiet when he got slapped by the Uruguayans in '50,
so let's just call this vengeance.
Pelé happened to deliver the perfect jab…
…and nobody noticed.
Just Fontes.
Well, well, well, look at that.
The referee calls a foul in favor of Brazil!
Seems like the tide is turning.
The tide is turning, Saldanha.
Hey, Fontes! Fontes!
How's your jaw?
Is it hurting?
We can't give them space.
We've just gotta keep pushing.
If we press Uruguay, they'll crash and burn soon enough.
They won't be able to cope.
We'll get inside their heads this time.
He passes to the wing, and…
Oh! Brazil walks right into it!
Jairzinho is away, here's the counterattack!
Tostão, Tostão!
A sensational pass from Pelé to Tostão!
Jair's wide open!
He passes to Jair! He fakes out the defender!
Now's your chance, Jairzinho! The whole nation's with you!
And goal!
Goal!
We turned it around! Let's go!
Goal! Goal! Let's go!
Brazil makes a comeback!
And the crowd goes wild at Jalisco Stadium!
The score is now Brazil two, Uruguay… one!
And you can sense the disappointment among the Uruguayans.
They've lost all their swagger.
I don't know, I think Fontes is gonna dream about Pelé tonight, don't you think?
Eh?
What a goal for Brazil! Oh boy!
Everybody, calm down, it's not over yet.
-But it's close! -The team needs us.
Uruguay's shaking off nerves and reorganizing to try to tie the game!
Nothing's guaranteed yet. Nothing's guaranteed.
We still have an uphill battle.
We can't let our guard down now.
-Two-one is a precarious lead. -Don't give them space!
Uruguay presses forward… Brazil holds firm.
Uruguay tries to move the ball in an attempt to control the midfield.
Brazil is fighting them at every step.
Watch out, Brito!
Come on, boys.
It's tense, folks.
Get back here!
Get back here, tighten up!
Uruguay is on the move,
edging their way upfield, chasing that equalizer.
Our goalkeeper's confidence is shaken.
We've gotta hold on. We can't give them an opening, Saldanha.
Get him! Get him!
A dangerous ball into the area.
Saved by Félix!
Yay!
Spectacular save by Félix!
Félix, three cheers for Félix!
-That's what I'm talking about! -Good job, buddy. Nice work.
What a sensational save to thwart the Uruguayan equalizer!
Good job, Félix!
Good work, kid!
A beautiful redemption for Brazil's goalkeeper!
True redemption indeed.
Listen, I'm happy to be proven wrong today.
I believe we're chasing the ghost away.
A few minutes, a few minutes longer!
Come on, boys, just hold on! Five to go!
Keep calm, stay focused. Do not lose your concentration!
We gotta find a way to stop these guys,
-resist this pressure, Zagallo. -We haven't won yet, not yet.
-Don't I know it. -Fucking deflate that ball.
-Game's over. The game should be over now. -We gotta seal the deal.
The game is headed towards a dramatic end.
The Uruguayans are advancing now.
Pull back.
He's surging ahead, it's dangerous.
Nobody's ahead to challenge him.
-There you go! -Now Clodoaldo's races in to win it back…
…and he's down!
What's going on, ref? What's going on? Mário! You're going in. Come here.
Gimme that.
Mário, tell him to stop pressing.
Free kick for Brazil! Brazil!
Go on. Cool down the game, cool down the game. Go.
Let's just play!
-Calm down, easy, kid. Stay down. -I'm fine.
-Where'd you get hit? -It doesn't hurt.
Shh. Pretend it does. Pretend it does!
-Mário! -Fake it!
-Mário, take your time, take your time! -Stay down!
They're going up the goddamn wings.
Listen, you gotta stay with Carlos Alberto, okay?
You stop their left-winger from moving up too. Got it?
No more Maracanazo bullshit.
Brazil's doing whatever it takes.
Falling, slowing the game, provoking the Uruguayans…
In moments like these, mind games make all the difference.
Brazil, Brazil, Brazil, Brazil, Brazil!
Uruguay advances again, exchanging passes.
Brazil's on the back foot as their rivals get numbers into the penalty area.
Hey, watch out!
And the defense clears it away.
The header falls to Tostão, who makes a nice one-touch pass.
The king of football surges forward! He's unstoppable!
Pelé, Rivellino's behind you!
Rivellino's behind you!
Rivellino's running. Pelé passes. And there's the shot!
Look at that strike! It's in!
What a goal!
-Brazil leads three to one! -He heard me! He heard me! He heard me!
Rivellino scores another scorcher!
Let's fucking go! Come on!
What fucking ghost? Huh?
We did it! We did it!
Rivellino keeps racking up the goals!
Brazil, three goals,
one for Uruguay!
Not much time remains on the clock.
Dico, come on. Come on, Dico.
Brazil is just waiting for the final whistle to celebrate.
Here comes Tostão. He passes…
Look at Pelé!
Unbelievable!
-The ball just shaves the post… -So close.
That was close.
…run by Pelé. What a shame, João!
Yeah, I think it was, uh…
I don't know, the football gods who intercepted that ball,
just to keep the King humble.
Indeed, João! A divine play!
Use that gift that God gave you, my son.
That's it.
-Seconds left on the clock. -You did it.
Final seconds of the game. Blow the whistle, ref!
Calm down.
Blow the whistle so that 90 million Brazilians can start the party!
And the whistle blows at last!
Yeah! Yeah!
Fuck yes!
Yeah!
-Yeah! -Oh my God!
Brazil! Brazil! Three cheers for Brazil!
We're in the final of the 1970 World Cup!
We put 1950 behind us once and for all
and laid that ghost to rest.
Folks, we played the second half like grown-ups.
I was there, back then, you know, in 1950.
I bore witness.
And today
that page has finally turned.
Our players are ready to compete for the world title.
Now that we've all learned what's really important…
To always keep our heads held high.
No matter what.
We fucking did it, man! We're in the final, Félix!
Come on!
We're in the final, boys!
Félix! Félix! Félix! Félix!
Yeah!
I knew it all along.
"Brazil finalist" has 13 letters!
Brazil, eh-oh Brazil, eh-oh
Excuse me, excuse me, wait. Hurry up! They're playing it, look!
West Germany has been eliminated…
Excuse me. Pardon me.
…in a gripping extra time defeat that will go down…
-Over here. -…into football history.
And that's the final whistle at the Azteca Stadium
as Italy erupts with joy!
ITALY 4 - GERMANY 3
The Azzurri now get to set their sights
on the glorious Jules Rimet Trophy.
We're in the goddamn final!
Hey, hey, hey!
God spoke through your feet.
He did.
We got vengeance for '50.
Yeah. Uruguay doesn't matter anymore, Dico.
Now you've got the final.
The Jules Rimet.
Uh-huh. That's what Brazil really needs.
You're in the final, Dico.
You're gonna play a World Cup through to the end!
From start to finish.
But, listen, son, you stay focused.
'Cause everything you've built,
everything you sacrificed can't be in vain.
It's time to honor the chance God has given you.
Stay strong.
FINAL - ITALY VS BRAZIL hance God has given you.