It has edged past 1pm in Rancho Portugues, an elegant, traditional old restaurant in the Lagoa suburb of Rio de Janeiro. We’re sitting at a table — my friend Eduardo and I — watching the door.
Every time it opens, we think it’s going to be him, but it never is. When it gets to 1.30pm, Eduardo calls him on his mobile.
Jairzinho picks up. Eduardo, who is acting as my fixer and translator, tells him we’re waiting for him at the restaurant. The man who scored in every game he played at the 1970 World Cup and was Brazil’s hero in the tournament every bit as much as Pele, says he is on his way to Barra da Tijuca, out to the west of the city.
He’s going to a barbeque with friends. Eduardo asks him about our lunch. He says he forgot. This is not one of those long stories about a quest for an interview and whether it happened in the end.