Garrincha
Garrincha’s story is a bittersweet one. It is the tale of a scrawny, bow-legged boy from the tropical forests of Pau Grande who, in just a few years, rises to become a legendary figure in the world’s most beloved sport.
Mané Garrincha
Alegria di Povo
It’s the story of a child who spends his days running through trees and streams, hunting and fishing like a true jungle dweller. From an early age, his little sister, Rosa, notices his uncanny resemblance to a tiny bird native to the region—the “garrincha” (also known as cambaxirra). The nickname sticks with him for life.
“Captain, when are we playing the second leg?”
— Garrincha, speaking to captain Bellini after Brazil’s victory in the 1958 World Cup final against Sweden.
From a very young age, Mané lives in a semi-wild state, surrounded by poverty, alcohol, drugs, and smoking. Football is his only escape. From the moment he touches a ball, his natural ability is evident, especially when it comes to dribbling. No one—not even the older kids—can take it away from him.
At 12, he drops out of school, and a few years later, he starts taking up odd jobs. By 16, he works in a local textile factory. He is chaotic and undisciplined at work, just as he is on the pitch, where he plays for the factory’s amateur team. Tactics and game plans mean nothing to him—he just wants to have fun.
Initially played as an attacking midfielder, the experiment doesn’t last long. After just a few matches, he is moved to the right wing, where he truly belongs. Within months, his name is on everyone’s lips, and local scouts start taking notice. Still a teenager, he joins Cruzeiro do Sul in Petrópolis and, a year later, moves to Serrano.
It was his friends who forced him to attend tryouts for various teams. His first was with Vasco da Gama, but he wasn’t signed—he had forgotten his boots at home. He also failed trials with São Cristóvão and Fluminense. Garrincha simply didn’t take them seriously. For him, football wasn’t a job; it was pure passion. On the pitch, he let his creativity and free-spirited nature run wild, playing with the instinct of a street performer rather than a professional athlete.
But in 1951, at 19 years old, his life changed forever. Manoel tried out for Botafogo. After impressing in the reserve squad, the coach arranged a test match between the first team and the reserves, with Garrincha playing for the latter. His direct opponent? The great Nilton Santos—leader of Botafogo and the Brazilian national team, widely regarded as one of the best left-backs of all time.
Garrincha humiliated him. Time and again, he slipped past the legendary defender, even nutmegging him multiple times, as if it were child’s play. Nilton Santos was so stunned that, as the story goes, he immediately approached the club president and insisted they sign the young winger. And so, the professional career of Manoel Francisco dos Santos—better known as “Garrincha” or simply “Mané”—began.
And to think, he was never supposed to play football. His medical report likely read something like this:
"(…) The young man has a slight strabismus, a deformed spine, an unbalanced pelvis, a six-centimeter difference in leg length; his right knee suffers from varus deformity, while his left knee has valgus deformity, despite a corrective surgery. Due to these malformations—likely caused by polio or malnutrition—Manoel Francisco dos Santos is declared physically disabled and strongly advised against any form of competitive physical activity, including football."
How wrong they were.
What was deemed a defect became his greatest strength. His deceptive moves, aided by his shorter leg, became legendary. No defender—no matter how strong or ruthless—could stop him. He was an unstoppable force down the right wing, a whirlwind of feints, twists, nutmegs, and sudden bursts of speed. Garrincha was dribbling—football’s purest expression of creativity.
But he wasn’t just a trickster. He was fast, agile, and possessed a powerful, accurate shot. His crosses were pinpoint, bending with extraordinary spin. In 581 appearances for Botafogo over 12 years, he scored an astonishing 232 goals—an outrageous tally for a pure winger. He was also a lethal free-kick and corner-kick specialist, often striking the ball with the outside of his foot, creating unpredictable swerves and effects that goalkeepers couldn’t anticipate.
His only weaknesses? Tactics and discipline. That’s why Botafogo’s coach, João Saldanha, simply let him roam free on the pitch, knowing there was no point in trying to restrain him.
Garrincha’s international career was just as incredible. With him and Pelé on the field, Brazil never lost a match. In 40 games together, they won 35 and drew 5.
The 1958 World Cup, which cemented his legend, saw him controversially benched for the first two matches. Some suggest racial bias among Brazilian officials played a role, with certain directors believing that white players were “better suited” to face tactically disciplined European teams. But when Garrincha was finally given his chance, he put on a show.
Every time he stepped onto the pitch, he left defenders in his wake, dribbling past them as if they were training cones and delivering pinpoint assists—two of which helped striker Vavá score in the final against Sweden. While his teammates wept with joy after lifting the trophy, Garrincha stood there, utterly confused, unaware of the magnitude of what had just happened. He turned to his captain, Bellini, and asked, “So, when do we play the second leg?”
After the quarterfinal against Wales, the fullback assigned to mark him said:
“At that time, I think he was even more dangerous than Pelé. He was a phenomenon, capable of pure magic. It was impossible to predict which direction he would go because of his legs, and he was just as comfortable with his left foot as with his right. He could cut inside or go down the flank, and on top of that, he had a devastating shot.”
Despite his dazzling performances in 1958, Garrincha’s finest hour came four years later at the 1962 World Cup. Brazil’s undisputed superstar, Pelé, suffered an early injury after relentless fouling from defenders. With Pelé sidelined, it was Garrincha who single-handedly carried Brazil to World Cup glory. He scored, assisted, and dominated every match, finishing as both the tournament’s top scorer and its best player.
In the match against Czechoslovakia, the opposition attempted an unprecedented defensive strategy—assigning three men to mark him. It was useless. Mané’s star shone brighter than ever. Alongside Diego Maradona, he is perhaps the only player in history to deliver such an overwhelmingly decisive individual performance in winning a World Cup.
A curious episode from this era reveals the essence of Garrincha’s character. After Brazil’s triumphant World Cup campaign, the nation’s president (some sources say it was the governor of Rio) invited the players to a lavish reception, showering them with gifts. Each player made a request—some asked for cars, others for money, others for houses. Then it was Garrincha’s turn.
“So, what would you like?” the president asked.
Mané thought for a moment. His gaze drifted to a small bird, locked inside a cage in the president’s office.
“Mr. President, I would love for you to set that bird free.”
Some say the bird was, in fact, a garrincha, the same species that gave him his nickname.
By the early 1980s, long retired from football, Garrincha moved to Italy, settling in Torvaianica with his then-partner, Elza Soares. His decline was unmistakable—he had returned to drinking heavily, gained weight, and struggled with health issues. To make ends meet, he became a brand ambassador for the Brazilian Coffee Institute in Italy, a far cry from the dazzling genius who had once captivated the world.
And then, he played again.
Yes, you read that right. Manoel Francisco dos Santos—better known as “Garrincha,” the greatest right-winger in football history, two-time World Cup winner and national icon—signed for Sacrofano, a tiny club from a village of just 2,000 people near Rome. At the time, they played in Prima Categoria (the equivalent of Italy’s sixth division today) and were coached by Dino da Costa, an old friend of Mané and a former star of both Brazilian football and AS Roma. It was Da Costa who convinced him to join.
No one knows exactly how many matches he played, but what we do know is this: a slow, out-of-shape Garrincha still dragged his team to victory in a four-team tournament, scoring twice directly from corner kicks and leaving the crowd mesmerized with glimpses of his old brilliance.
Some even swear they saw him kicking a ball around with kids in Campo de’ Fiori on Saturday nights. And I believe it. Because deep down, Mané was like a child trapped in an adult’s body—a pure, innocent soul, utterly defenseless against the tidal wave of fame that crashed over him. He was helpless against the fake friends who surrounded him at the height of his success only to abandon him later, against the women who used him, against his own vices. Vices that followed him his entire life—alcohol and cigarettes above all.
Telmo Zanini, in his book Mané Garrincha, wrote:
“(…) He spent his last twenty years completely detached from society. He sank into alcoholism, lost all connection with his fourteen children scattered across the world. Mistreated by his partners, he would pass out in the doorways of taverns, sleep on sidewalks, take shelter with strangers. He survived only thanks to the occasional goodwill of public authorities.”
Then came that fateful January night in 1983. After drinking for three days straight, his body gave in. A pulmonary edema took him away. Mané took flight one last time.
Manoel Francisco dos Santos—Garrincha—was, more than any other player, the true darling of the Brazilian people. They loved him not just for his genius on the pitch, but for his sincerity, his innocence. Football had been both his salvation and his downfall.
I’ll end with an old Brazilian saying:
“Even today, if you ask an old Brazilian about Pelé, he will take off his hat as a sign of admiration and gratitude. But if you mention Garrincha, he will lower his eyes, apologize, and weep.”
