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Brazil needs Dunga to be Dunga
Strong-willed leader anchors Brazilians on, off field
Posted: Saturday June 27, 1998 10:01 AM
Special from L'Equipe, the French sports daily
PARIS (L'Equipe) -- Do you know where the nickname of "Dunga" comes from?
In Brazilian,
it stands for Dopey. But when Dopey turns into Grumpy, the national team is
in for some trouble.
He warned everyone two days after the win against Morocco and the
yelling match with Bebeto. He was a little too relaxed when he told the
Brazilian press corps, which he loathes, that "silence is worth silver,
listening to one's teammates is worth gold." He was really threatening to
go on strike, but nobody got it.
Friday, June 18; nobody knew that the whole team had gotten together to
talk about the incident, which had occurred after Morocco was awarded a
dangerous free kick.
Bebeto, whose job was to stay in front of the ball to prevent the other
team from playing quickly, just forgot. Dunga reacted violently to what he
considered to be a "serious mistake." Bebeto didn't mince his words either.
Dunga couldn't stand him not admitting he committed a mistake, let it get
to him and almost hit his teammate.
After the match, no matter what the players said, how cool they acted, the
problem hadn't vanished. A day later, they all met, like they do when there
is something to settle. They asked their captain to take it easier and to
avoid roughing up a teammate like that.
Dunga acknowledged that he "exaggerated a bit in the way he reacted, but
that basically he was right not to tolerate such a breach." He added that
at the time, Brazil "only led 1-0 and in case of a tie, the match would
have changed drastically, the Moroccans would have become more confident
and, considering their technical qualities, they would have posed a lot of
problems to the team." He repeated once more that "everybody has to go in
the same direction and accept that to win a World Cup, a lot of sacrifices
have to be made."
Tuesday, in Marseille, Dunga was on strike following the loss to Norway. He let
coach Mario Zagallo do the talking, walked out, smiling, chatted with
Michel Platini and then talked to the Brazilian journalists. "You
criticized me for yelling at Bebeto. Today, I decided to keep quiet. Are
you happy? Today I didn't say a word to anyone for the whole match and
maybe I'll do the same Saturday, against Chile. I haven't
decided yet. I've taken my responsibilities, and now the rest of the team
has to do the same," Dunga said.
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Dunga (right) has already lashed out at one of his teammates on the field during the World Cup (Clive Brunskill/AP) |
The boss is still in the house, but he's ceased work, resulting in the
team's fourth loss in four years (Norway in 1997, the United
States in February, Argentina in
April). Dunga didn't play in two of those losses, and stayed mute in
another one, thus showing how indispensable he and his rage are.
Without his rage Brazil won't be a World Champion again. Zico knows it, and
that's why, for the first time, he openly defended the captain. "Dunga's
leadership is obvious. His knowledge of the game gives him the right to
draw a player's attention at any time if he makes a mistake. Dunga is
someone who knows how to read a match and acts consequently. He interprets
his teammate's attitude and does whatever he sees fit, at the time that
seems appropriate to him. Against Morocco, Bebeto made a mistake and
obviously didn't understand how serious it was. Dunga did, and said so.
Under fire, in such an important match, one can't always choose one's
words. Now we shouldn't blow this up out of proportion. It's not the first
time players yell at each other on the pitch, and it certainly isn't the
last one," Zico said.
Tuesday night, Dunga seemed appeased, detached, almost happy of having been
right when he said in December that "the 1998 team doesn't have the moral
qualities of that of 1994." He's tried to instill these virtues of
"solidarity, humility, abnegation and sense of sacrifice." But after his
friend of 10 years and roommate, Romario, was sent back to Rio, a couple
days before the World Cup, maybe he understood he was going to fight in
vain.
He spoke out. After the narrow opening match victory against Scotland, he
put things back in perspective. "It is inadmissible for such an
experimented team as ours to be moved around that much at the end of the
match and to win only because of an own goal," he told his teammates.
After this first outburst, he had looked the same, playful as a kid outside
the pitch, rigid and serious as a soldier on it. Kids who are born in the
South of Brazil; like he was, and who get nicknamed Dopey because of how
naïve they look, often want to achieve more. Romario's partying buddy
has expressed his work through some form of masochism.
His professional career, from Brazil to Japan, through Italy and Germany, and
the tactical evolution of his role on the pitch, illustrate the kind of
training he's been willing to put himself through in order to become an
essential piece in Brazil's game despite criticism and adversity. He who
was run down in 1994, to the point of calling Carlos Alberto Parreira's
defensive team the "Brazil-Dunga," is now respected as Zagallo's right
hand. But maybe this respect has lessened the rage of Dunga, who admitted
he was "never as efficient as when faced with the injustice of critics."
He's still trying to motivate himself. He attacks his country's press but
needs to anticipate the worst to fuel his rage. "I know how controversial
everything that's connected to our team is. I'm playing in my third World
Cup, I've won one and lost the other. They crucified me for that defeat and
I know how painful it is to be a scapegoat. If the thing with Bebeto gives
way to this much criticism, I can already imagine what they'll say about me
if we lose. As usual, it will be my fault," Dunga said.
Maybe that's the reason why he started speaking to his teammates again
Thursday. But most probably, he did so because his passion for the game,
and for the team, could never stifle his convictions and his need to
express them. His Brazil can not lose anything in the process.
Copyright 1998, L'Equipe
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