We called him Rei because Pelé was the king, but he never acted that way

P elé called me his idol once. That was the day I played with him, the only time I did, and it was my most emotional moment with him. It was a benefit match at the Maracanã in April 1979, with 140,000 people there after flooding in Minas Gerais. Flamengo against Atlético Mineiro. “My idol!” he called me; that was him, that was his humour, his character, always embracing you. He played with us – Zico and I were in the Flamengo team – and playing with him was like a dream, especially when I played him a pass. I mean, caramba, I gave the ball to Pelé!

Pelé was the greatest for everyone from our generation. It’s hard to express what he meant to us. He had been the best for me from an early age, and thinking of him always brings to mind my grandmother. Santos used to play their big games at the Maracanã rather than in São Paulo: games against teams such as Garrincha’s Botafogo, or Milan.

But it was about Santos, Pelé. Whenever they came, whenever he did, my grandmother would take me. It was a party, a celebration, every time. I remember the Milan game especially. There used to be this doubt about whether he could do it against European defenders, like he had to prove something; people wondered whether he was really that good. And, yes, he was that good. He was, he was!

You see footage and see the pitches he played on. The boots. The balls. How heavy the shirts were. He did all that in those conditions. He had these legs … incredible. He could jump, you couldn’t knock him down. And you watch this old film and he’s 17. Then he goes to Mexico and wins the World Cup, playing like that.

I was 16 in 1970 and had already started playing professionally. What impressed me about Pelé then was his professionalism and willingness to