When my friends and I were young, and imagined ourselves possessing the sort of talent that might lead us from the swampy fields of southern Louisiana to the realm of global soccer success, we always imagined we were Brazilian. During the 2002 World Cup, when we were old enough to appreciate the more subtle beauties of the game, but still young enough to be astonished by the magic we were watching, we followed the Brazilian team with religious conviction. It was not simply that we watched them; it’s that we tried to be them. We watched Ronaldo, and tried step-overs we weren’t quick enough to carry out; we watched Ronaldinho, and tried flicks that turned the ball over to the other team; we watched Roberto Carlos, and tried free kicks, with the outside of our foot, that sent the ball soaring far over the goal. We were young players still hoping to mold ourselves into what we dreamed of becoming. We chased after the best in the world, and the best in the world were Brazilian.
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In this World Cup, young players across the world are watching a new seleção, the most famous of which is the suave twenty-six-year-old Neymar. But the team owes its success, so far, to a different player, Philippe Coutinho, who though more understated than Neymar has proven no less effective. Throughout the tournament, he’s commanded the Brazilian midfield with aplomb, stringing together majestic pass after pass, creating space and opportunities for his teammates to flourish. It’s the kind of masterly play that led Barcelona, in January, to pay Liverpool two hundred and forty-four million dollars for his services, making him the third most expensive player in football history.
More coverage of the 2018 World Cup from The New Yorker.
Of Brazil’s five group-stage goals, Coutinho scored two and assisted another. But even those stats don’t capture the power of his presence. He scored the lone goal in Brazil’s opening match, a tie against Switzerland. He scored the breakthrough goal—in the ninety-first minute—in their game against Costa Rica. And on Wednesday, in Brazil’s match against Serbia, he once again placed his country on his back, as his team sought to secure passage into the knockout round of the tournament.
In the thirty-sixth minute, Coutinho collected the ball ten yards inside his own half and caught the eyes of his Barcelona teammate Paulinho, who was hurtling through the Serbian defense. Coutinho sent a looping ball into Paulinho’s path, splitting three Serbian defenders. Paulinho, having already moved past each defender, slowed down just enough to let the ball bounce once, at his side, as the Serbian goalkeeper came rushing out. Then, with a single touch of his right foot, he lifted the ball over the hands of the keeper and into the empty goal. He felt like an unlikely goal scorer, but there was nothing unlikely about the player who created the opportunity in the first place. Later in the game, Brazil would score another goal, on a corner kick—from the foot of Neymar and off the head of Thiago Silva—to ensure a spot in the knockout rounds.
A few weeks ago, I was in São Paulo and was struck by how many people—on the beaches, in the streets, simply sitting in cafés—were wearing Neymar jerseys. Neymar had been injured for three months, and Brazilians were uncertain if their star player would be able to take part in the tournament at all. At a league match between Neymar’s former team, Santos F.C., and Luverdense, I asked a longtime Santos supporter, who had a white beard lining his jaw, what Brazil’s chances would be in the World Cup without their talisman. Without Neymar, he said, “there is no chance.” I’ve been thinking about that conversation a lot, after watching Brazil play the past two weeks. It reflected the sentiments of people throughout the country. And while the past three matches have shown glimpses of Neymar’s otherworldly talent, they have also shown that, without Coutinho, Brazil has no chance.
