Vinícius Júnior and why it’s time to stop talking about the football

T his Sunday, for the first time in 1,285 games as a coach and 47 years in football, Carlo Ancelotti refused to talk about the game. He had just seen Real Madrid lose 1-0 to Valencia but, standing in the cramped, narrow tunnel that leads to the Mestalla dressing room where he said his best player sat “angry and sad”, he didn’t care about that and couldn’t comprehend anyone else caring either. So when the standard post-match interview began with the standard post-match question, an enquiry as to his thoughts on another defeat, he decided that, actually, no, this wasn’t going to be standard any more. Instead, he shot back: “You want to talk about football?! Or shall we talk about the other thing? That’s more important than a loss, don’t you think?”

Maybe this time, at last, some might begin to think so. If the Madrid manager didn’t feel much like talking about football, it was because Vinícius Júnior, the kid in his care, the 22-year-old winger who is probably the most electric, most exciting player in the Spanish league, a genuine superstar for a new generation, didn’t feel much like playing it any more. Why would he, why should he, when as he arrived at Mestalla a group of fans gathered outside had chanted: “Vinícius, you’re a monkey?” When from the south stand he had been told the same? When he had been told that he was an idiot, an imbecile with reference to race. When he had heard the oooh ooohs? When he had seen them?

He had had enough. There was a moment in the second half when cameras closed in on Vinícius’s face, tears welling up in his eyes. In its simplicity, its sadness, that might be the most powerful of many dreadful images from Sunday night, but the one that made the greatest impact, the one that started