2037 Season: Deftness and Delirium
((Fleetwood Mac - Don't Stop [with lyrics] - YouTube))
He shook his head emerging from the annual start of season board meeting. The congratulations for the sensational finish to the season lifting the Club World Cup had been quickly replaced with a ‘however-‘ and berating over the huge drop in form at the death of the season.
That was something he was going to chastise the players over when he saw them, not something he needed to be reprimanded about like a child by the directors and chairman.
“They’re starting to really get on my nerves too now” Douglas said as they looked down the corridor each way, wondering almost what to do now as plans for the day were erased in favour of the prevalent feeling of intense frustration. Head up the Manager thought to himself, he couldn’t be seen to be glum else the players start mimicking him.
The chairman once again injected funds to the club, around £14.5 million this year; sponsorship deals had fallen for the second year in a row the Manager was privy to the goings on of the club; and that meant his prediction of minimal funds to work with now was bang on.
£450,000 to spend on transfer fees, a wage bill allowance of £750,000 a week. So sell to buy was the policy with those numbers as just shy of half a million couldn’t buy anyone that would improve the squad. Fortunately all the business had been done the year just gone with the plan to buy for the future and buy en mass young talent a model which would now pay off, and with any luck for years to come.
View attachment 472968 Youngsters who had gone out on loan all over the world were having reports sent back by the scouts quickly to get the work done in good time. The word was that the improvements in their quality of game were substantial; leagues such as the Spanish, Dutch, Swiss and Turkish were proving great platforms for the teenagers of Sao Paulo to experience something of the world and gain first team football against some inspiring talent.
The transfer money was stuffed into the wage bill to try and free up space to negotiate contracts, something the Manager would be tackling early on. No players bought, they had a wonderful task of approaching the Under 20’s first training session personally to announce the news that certain players would be making the step up to the first team this season, fresh faces he had seen only in the reports, footage and media as they returned from abroad to join their fellow Brazilians.
Murilo, 20 years old, a right back who was learning now from his senior by a few years: Alberto ‘The Prince’. A fine player in his own right, he would be perfect back up with a hunger to learn the left back position fully and challenge a starting position against the Brazil Internationals at both full back spots.
Lopes, also 20 years of age, he would join the squad mid season as his loan at Ajax would span the entirety of their season, but he was impressing having learnt how to play across the entire defence equally well. He had all the right qualities to go on to become a solid regular in his latter years.
Jose Aparecido, 18, a centre back. His playing time would be less, but the experience of training and working with the first team would be invaluable, with the odd game to prove his worth.
Finally Ademar, 20, he was the only forward to make the jump as all others weren’t quite ready to leave the safety of the youth setup for the rigors of the Brazilian season. He would have slotted in as a back up striker immediately had an offer not come in the following day from another first division Brazilian club. They were looking for a cost effective promising striker for the season, and the offer per month was simply too good to turn down for the services of the young man’s talents. A season long loan and guaranteed first team football would go a little way to helping the supposedly precarious financial situation at the club.
The offers then began flooding in for a host of players in the under 20’s, advice from the coaching staff and his African Under 20’s Manager and Assistant over whether to allow them to go out for a full season wherever in the world the offer came from. Fees for many of their services, they’d hopefully pick up a wealth of experience in their year to come.
Contracts were the order of the day next; the senior Management deciding not to retain the services of Mario Augusto, Luizao and Lucas. They were thanked on the club website for their services and wished well for the future.
63 year old Sergey Sadovnikov from Saturn Ramenskoye in Russia arrived to bolster the medical department as a physio, a move to truly attempt to keep all injuries to a minimum as they would challenge for everything Brazil and South America could offer this season. And also to do that effectively, they needed their captain.
Director of Football Romulo de Oliviera came cap in hand again to the Manager’s office, a face as though he was prepared for the telling off he might get.
He’d been unable to work out a satisfactory contract with Claudio Bonfante who had just a year remaining on his current deal. It seemed in his eyes the Argentine wanted just too much money for the services he offered.
The Manager stepped in, he had to, they could absolutely not afford to lose such an instrumental player, and more than anything else needed to make it known to him just how important he was so he might lead them to even greater success this season.
A new 5 year deal to tie him down well and truly, a jump from £75,000 a week to £95,000, but crucially the dreaded ‘match highest earner’ clause removed. It wouldn’t matter anyway, only Sangweni and Paulista could possibly command similar wages at the club right now, and their deals were more than £20,000 less than the new one for the captain.
Mao signed a fresh one year deal, his age beginning to show but worth to the team undeniable when the internationals hit the squad. With that, they looked at the bank balance and wage totals.
£49 million in the kitty to last the season; £0 to spend on new players they wouldn’t need, and over the limit for their wage budget. The monthly fees for all their players loaned out would sort out the wages before long as each month they’d be poured into the mix; in the meantime he’d likely have to endure some disapproving looks and comments from the board.
View attachment 472947 Money and transactions done and dusted, it was onto the training pitch and rejoining the players for the fresh chance at all the silverware they could get their hands on.
Douglas was already out instructing the troops as the Manager headed out, the early morning a wet one for a change when they would be attempting to motivate them into some kind of intense craving which would last the course for their exploits.
The moment he arrived his assistant finished his sentence, the coaches and players all looking to the man in charge’s direction, silent and expectant for what might come to follow.
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~Portuguese~ “Hello again you soppy bastards” He grinned. A few of the players giggled, others shifted a little at the brusque greeting. “This year will be the one that you write your names in this club’s history books forever.” A couple of the boys in the back were quietly talking to one another.
~Portuguese~ “Oi!” All eyes looked far more sharply to the front “Look at me when I’m talking to you! I need to see the looks on all your faces to know that you’re on the same page as me for this; I want –everything-.”
The murmurs started up again, half excited half curious. ~Portuguese~ “Be quiet just a moment please.” He had held out a hand which lowered for him to continue, a smile now written upon his features. “We’re in a position lads where we can challenge for every single top honour Brazil and South America have to offer. What an opportunity!! What a chance to really stamp your names into an era of incredible success for Sao Paulo FC, for Brazilian football!”
The smiles shone on a few of the player’s faces, mostly the youngsters who had yet to fully experience the rigors of an entire Brazilian season. The senior players kept their focus upon their boss as he wasn’t done. ~Portuguese~ “I won’t lie; this is going to be a long season. When you’re competing on every front it takes its toll, but after last season you’re all stronger for it, you’re better for it. What happened at the end of the last year: tailing off and losing the title at the death, forget that, it’s done with. And you redeemed yourselves before the fans in the most glorious way by defeating Bayern Munich.
~Portuguese~ “This time, we’re going to smash everyone in Brazil, we’re going to silence the Argentineans and rub their faces in it, and then…God willing-“ He didn’t believe in the almighty himself, but he knew most of the players were still staunch Catholics like much of Brazil “God Willing, come next December, we’ll take a European team, and show them how the game can really be played again.” He let all his teeth show, and was met with similar expressions almost unanimously.
~Portuguese~ “It all starts here today though chaps, on the training pitch; the work we do this pre-season and then in the months to follow will lay all the groundwork for those trophies and titles that you all crave.
~Portuguese~ “So; for a year and a half since I arrived; and since my team of staff have formed we’ve been working on cohesion and teamwork. How’s that been working out? You think you all know each other?” He pointed to Casca “You all know who this is?” The players laughed. “Casca, who’s that over there?” And he pointed to Junior, their young goalkeeper who’d actually been out on loan nearly the entire time so far. He smiled and answered.
~Portugese~ “We don’t need to learn how each other plays anymore, we’ve made no transfers and the moves you work are almost perfect. So, this season, it’s all about defence. You’re free scoring is wonderful, but when faced with stiff opposition occasionally it can all look like it’s a bit much. So we’re going to target that before anything else. And on the side, the focus will be to really iron out some stellar attacking set pieces since they were a bit sketchy last year.
~Portuguese~ “I want to see free kicks which stun the opposition into wondering what just happened; I want to see corners which leave their whole defensive effort feeling rattled and unable to cope should another chance at one come our way.
~Portuguese~ “I want to see penalties buried into the back of their net 100% of the time, for our fans and their team to know, absolutely, that when that referee points to the spot, it’s a goal, without question.” He looked between the chief men who would be responsible for conducting such a task.
~Portuguese~ “This season, Sao Paulo is going to go from being a threatening side in this nation, to being the best Brazil has to offer, a name which not only will all South American sides fear being drawn against; but European sides will mutter to one another over the quiet danger we present should that one tie ever draw us against their best.”
He lifted a fist slowly, the hunger in his player’s eyes was evident already, a feeling as if they were ready to play Corinthians right now, or see off Boca Juniors on that pitch just behind them sitting empty; or even a European giant with all the arrogance and superiority they came with.
~Portuguese~ “Laps.” His hands waved up. A collective groan came out. “Come on! Vamos Vamos!” He took a quick step toward them, ushering with his arms like he might shoo an unwelcome animal. They launched to their feet and began running as the coaches stood by boxes and loose equipment for the session started lining up posts for agility sprints, hurdles for their jumps, and Douglas tipped open the huge net of balls satisfyingly as they all began to splay out in every direction.
As they came back and the various tasks were conducted, he observed the goalkeepers setting about their routine of handling, kicking and rushing out to meet an attacker.
Douglas was the first one to say it, before the goalkeeper coaches nodded in agreement. ~Portuguese~ “It looks like Junior has learnt a lot more abroad than young Paulo has here learning from our veteran keeper.”
They were right; the young goalie was doing far better than his rival who had been training here for the past year, and looking at the now extremely old Paulo who had tended the space between the sticks last season he was clearly struggling to maintain the standard required.
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When the days work was done, the Manager had a word with the three keepers, informing them that the Sao Paulo State Championship early games and training would be their chances to show what they could do, the place as first choice was up for grabs.
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Oeste at home to start things off when the friendlies were out of the way, 8 – 0.
Sangweni and Paulista teamed up with Jandoso, Kresch, Bonfante and Gilvan to take turns running at the collective defence of Sao Paulo in their continued work on the training pitch, the state championship games almost practice matches to implement what was being worked on mid-week.
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Marilia away, 7 – 0.
Douglas Maximo was leading the operations for the defensive training the team were spending the hours on; the first choice back four would have an intense session before the second choice bank of four would tag in, every Sao Paulo attacker taking turns with each other to deliver long balls into their most lethal strikers. Headers cleared a good distance or a knock down to each other before clearing. The work was tedious but essential in order to cut out any silly mistakes.
Sessions in the gym, the players were working hard without exception.
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Red Bull Brasil at home, 9 – 0.
No one could argue that the season and training wasn't going swimmingly; working on doubling up on tricky dibblers and the overlap, it didn’t matter what position you were – if you were in the vicinity you helped out with defensive duties was the message.
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Bragantino at home 5 – 0 to follow the mammoth results against minnow opposition. The first point of nervous interest from the management was the draw for the coming Copa Liberatdores.
Group G: Sao Paulo, Cerro Porteno from Paraguay who were currently a feeder club to Sao Paulo, Lanus in Argentina, and Medellin in Columbia.
Lanus would be the obstacle in that group, but no one they feared too much. They blitzed through the Sao Paulo State Championship without any problems, more draws than they would have liked, but no losses and for once grateful that it went down to a knockout finish rather than results in the table alone.
| Sao Paulo State Championship Playoff Qualifiers | W | D | L | GD | Pts |
| Corinthians | 16 | 3 | 0 | +52 | 51 |
| Sao Paulo | 15 | 4 | 0 | +74 | 49 |
| Santos | 15 | 3 | 1 | +54 | 48 |
| Palmeiras | 14 | 5 | 0 | +36 | 47 |
| Portuguesa | 13 | 3 | 3 | +47 | 42 |
| Guarani | 11 | 3 | 5 | +9 | 36 |
| Bragantino | 10 | 3 | 6 | +10 | 33 |
| Sao Caetano | 9 | 5 | 5 | +14 | 32 |
Tony Dalton as a footnote joined from England as an Under 20’s physio having recently achieved his qualifications necessary to work in the football industry. The move was a big one for him as any European national relocating to the blistering heat of Brazil had to adjust quickly, that and the culture, but the opportunity was too great to turn down for the man.
21 year old Junior following the Sao Paulo State Championship completion was informed he would be the first choice keeper for the coming season, that the two Paulo’s were to train as hard as they could to gain any opportunity they could. He wasn’t the best goalkeeper in World or even Brazil, and had vast funds been available to the Manager and Director of Football they might have looked at getting a truly world class goalie in to fill the role; but the youngster would do just fine for the season ahead. His handling of the ball was superb, and with good command of his area and reflexes, kicking, agility and balance he’d be capable of tending to the last line of defence against the opposition they were likely to face.
Sao Paulo State Championship Quarter Finals
Corinthians 3 - 0 Sao Caetano
Palmeiras 1 - 1p Portuguesa
Sao Paulo 2 - 0 Bragantino
Santos 3 - 0 Guarani
Corinthians 3 - 0 Sao Caetano
Palmeiras 1 - 1p Portuguesa
Sao Paulo 2 - 0 Bragantino
Santos 3 - 0 Guarani
Sao Paulo State Championship Semi Finals
Sao Paulo 3 – 2 Santos
Corinthians 0 – 0p Portuguesa
Sao Paulo 3 – 2 Santos
Corinthians 0 – 0p Portuguesa
A run of form right when they wanted it, Portuguesa upset the desired Sao Paulo Vs Corinthians final, wanted by the Manager as much as the fans to try and get one over the staunch rivals before the major competitions started; and also repair the damage from the silverware lost the season prior because of results gone against them.
Sao Paulo State Championship Final
First Leg Away
1 – 0
Second Leg Home
2 – 2
(3-2 Aggregate)
View attachment 471669
First Leg Away
1 – 0
Second Leg Home
2 – 2
(3-2 Aggregate)
View attachment 471669
Closer than they would have liked, but Sao Paulo lifted the local competition trophy, minor bragging rights within the Sao Paulo state against their rivals until the rest of the trophies started to come to their finishes.
View attachment 471668 The atmosphere at the club was constantly climbing as momentum continued to build, as it had been with the Copa Libertadores games running simultaneously with the State Championship.
| Copa Libertadores Group G | W | D | L | GD | Pts |
| Sao Paulo | 5 | 1 | 0 | +12 | 16 |
| Lanus | 4 | 1 | 1 | +12 | 13 |
| Cerro Porteno | 1 | 0 | 5 | -11 | 3 |
| Medellin | 1 | 0 | 5 | -13 | 3 |
Copa Libertadores 2nd Round – Once Caldas (Columbia)
Away 5 – 0, Home 3 – 0, Aggregate 8 – 0.
Copa Libertadores Quarter Finals – Botafogo (Brazil)
Away 1 – 1, Home 8 – 0, Aggregate 9 – 1.
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The first division games started up to the tune of the Manager saying whatever he felt would keep them going in this rich vein of form; a 1 – 0 win at home to Vitoria with a 90th minute winner, the fans had feared they were going to stall to begin as the clock ticked away, but all left the stadium with applause and optimistism. They say that the champions win the league by winning the games even when they play badly, perhaps it was a sign that Sao Paulo might get that extra luck needed this year to do what was required.
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1 – 0 against Flamengo at home next using their 2nd choice squad in order to save the preferred players for the all important Copa Libertadores Semi Final first leg rapidly approaching, a credible result against strong opposition and an indication of the quality of strength and depth running throughout this group of players now.
Copa Libertadores Semi Finals – Corinthians
Their great rivals. It was almost like heading back to his time at Brighton for the Manager: getting far into a major competition only to be drawn against the threat of Manchester City, again, and again, and again.
Sao Paulo were destined to play Corinthians until the end of football itself; they hated one another, the players came quickly to hate their opposite numbers; the Manager had come to hate Coelho…the man in charge of the local challengers. And Coelho? He seemed to loathe the Manager more than anyone else.
A string of heated interviews came out of the Corinthians boss, more choice words for The Manager. Questioning his ability, his team, everything the media brought up or he could think of it seemed.
When asked himself, The Manager said nothing but the minimum. In truth as he had told some of the office staff over lunch the day before their big match interview what he thought of the Corinthians boss, but he was sick of the name calling and slander all the manager’s who feared Sao Paulo seemed to resort to whenever they were drawn together. It was just childish when you took a step back.
Internationals just had to hit as the 2 legs of the crucial tie came about, but fortunately purely Brazilian internationals which left Sao Paulo with their captain to lead the boys in their attempt to reach the final for the second time in a row.
The first defeat of the entire season; but what a result to gain for the Sao Paulo faithful who made sure to rub it in the Corinthian fan’s faces. The Manager a little cheeky himself as he slapped both hands about Coelho’s handshake post match, the Brazilian Manager of the defeated side eager to simply touch hands and speed away. He clasped it firmly, grinning into his face as his 52 year old features showed their lines from smiling and laughing; an infuriated frown met him before the hand was wrenched free.
How satisfying it was to stoke the fires for the next time they’d meet, however immature of him it may have been.
Boca Juniors had faced off against Lanus of their own country for the other semi; Away 4 – 2, Home 4 – 1, Aggregate 8 – 3.
Convincing and dominant, so it was the previous year’s finalists who would meet again for round 2 of the pinnacle of South American football. With such a huge commanding scoreline against their domestic rivals Boca were unanimously the favourites for the fixtures.
The league was on the whole going well, but no one really focused upon it as it still lay in its early stages with everything still to play for. All attentions were of course once again with the Copa Libertadores, with the press building the occasion any way possible; the under 20’s Copa Libertadores providing extra ammunition as if they’d needed it.
Sao Paulo Under 20’s met with Boca’s at the semi final stage of the youth competition, the burgeoning talents all aware that the pressure for the match had been built up in light of the real prize for their seniors. 0 – 2 to Boca, the Argentine heavy favourites made more so as it was claimed they now had even more of a psychological edge.
View attachment 471658 Unfortunately just as the games were starting to get close, form dropped like a stone. A shallow loss to Athletico Paranaense where the Paranaense keeper frustrated and performed heroics all day, the fact that they are a feeder club to Sao Paulo added some insult to the defeat.
Following the blip, a home draw against Avai who were struggling in the league compounded the dip giving the masses watching on cause for alarm; however they recovered slightly to record a good home win against Internacional, the manager of the fairly strong side, Jailson Finger, actually having nothing but praise for Sao Paulo and their English boss. What a rare thing that seemed like.
((Jerry Goldsmith - First Dream (Total Recall) - YouTube))
15th of July - Copa Libertadores Final 1st leg - Home
They’d evaluated the Boca squad again and again; they’d sold two of their star players in the winter months: Emilio Ramirez to Athletico Madrid for a whopping £31.5 million; and the incredible talent who had been lethal in the previous final: Jonathan Motta moved to Valencia for £17 million.
Yet even with the two players sold for value they had a host of players still able to destroy any back four, it seemed as he scrawled through the videos of Boca games that they were able to score at will from any situation.
Jonathan Zaccari joined Coelho in trashing the Manager in press conferences, quietly confident of chances for the game yet hugely disapproving of the man in charge of Sao Paulo. ******.
View attachment 471655 Once inside the fans waved flags to create a blanket of white red and black whipping back and forth in Sao Paulo, like a shimmering sea of cloth as arms poked beyond with fingers outstretched to somehow help propel the voices out and smother the attempts of the travelling fans nestled in their corner of the Estadio do Morumbi.
Looking over the players once all the formalities were done, Boca had a mental looking formation for such an occasion, different to their league choice and any which had been studied.
One sweeper, two centre backs, 5 flat across the middle and 2 strikers.
That was a formation for attack and swamping the midfield, but didn’t change the plans of Sao Paulo, they were going to attack religiously and with everything they had.
The whistle went, and accompanied by rising and ebbing spates of the stands deafening roars all plans seemed to fail as the first half was well and truly bogged down in the middle of the park, Boca had the only moment of interest with an effort from range hitting the post only to head out for a goal kick.
He gee’d them up for the second half, breathing some fire into their eyes, but even with the slightly lacking for fitness Paulista coming off the bench to try and grab something, or Gilvan with fresh legs doing everything in his power to attack the Boca defence, there were just too many bodies back with each attack.
The entire half belonged to Sao Paulo, start to finish Boca Juniors got nothing out of it, but for all their desperate efforts they couldn’t grab that all important goal and lead to head into Argentina with.
What a task lay ahead of them now, they’d have to beat Boca on their own turf to finish the tie, with the Argentines clearly desperate to settle the score after the 2036 final.
View attachment 471653 Just a game against Fluminense away in the league separated the legs, a credible 2 – 2 result with the 2nd team turning out again. What was certain however was that morale wouldn’t count for a lot when coming into the final leg of their continental competition, it was important, but something special would be needed.
~Portuguese~ “Focus for this session everyone!” The Manager almost shouted to open things, the training grounds sitting ready for the task ahead as chatter ceased at once. “This game is in some ways going to make or break our season. Lose, and the press will talk of a missed opportunity to stake our dominance in the whole continent, our rivals will see that we aren’t infallible and begin to regain any belief they might have had that we can be beaten if they try hard enough.
~Portuguese~ “Nonsense" He answered himself "None of them are good enough even if they took drugs.” A laugh went around matched by slightly cocky or appreciative grins. “However.” He made a motion to the training centre’s building. A line of players all in a kit familiar yet alien to the Sao Paulo squad all began to file out at a jog, talking happily amongst themselves as some peeled off to jog in preparation.
~Portuguese~ “-However, Brighton and Hove Albion might be good enough to beat you. They’re here on their pre-season training camp, here to play a few showcase matches in South America as a couple of teams will squeeze in a few friendlies, and they’re here basically to show off.”
Jimmy Armstrong, well into his thirties now made a point of leaving the line of Brighton players heading out to the training pitch behind the amassed Sao Paulo players to greet the Manager in emphatic fashion, his face lighting up as he opened his arms for an embrace.
“Wheeeey!! boss!” He grinned.
“Been too long my favourite number 1, I see each week you’re still doing the business even at your tender age, for club and country.”
“Just putting into practice what you taught me all those years ago”
“Suck up”
“If you’ll keep picking me as number 1, always.” They chuckled together, the Brazilian team waiting patiently before Armstrong turned to stand alongside his former Brighton and England boss.
~Portuguese~ “You’re going to practice, all of you, attacking manoeuvres and drills against the Brighton defence, and not just the defence, the whole squad, eleven players all back, rotating throughout their squad in two sessions we’ll have going so that you don’t get used to any one player. It’ll be like trying to smash your way through a brick wall with only your feet and your fists, but I want you to give it everything as if this was the final itself.
~Portuguese~ “If you win this, you know what it means besides retaining your title as champions of South America” He made sure to emphasise that it was theirs as current reigning champs. “If you win this, we get our ticket to the Club World Championship at the end of the year, and hopefully a game against the European Champions, Manchester United.”
“Bastards” Armstrong exclaimed quietly as he heard the team name and understood the meaning.
“Bastardo they say here” He laughed, mimicked by the players before them as they grasped everything said between them.
~Portuguese~ “Right! So let’s get to it!” He pointed behind them to the scene of the blue tops of Brighton players all waving their arms and skipped up and down to warm up. “100%!”
“And I’ll buy anyone a drink who actually manages to beat me” Armstrong added, the Manager raising his eyebrows a moment before translating, that brought out a little glint in the eyes of some of them, everyone in attendance knowing exactly who Jimmy Armstrong was of course. The Brighton keeper crushed his gloved fists together with a malicious determined expression upon his face, one of utmost confidence.
In the most difficult strained English Jorginho Paulista spoke up before anyone else in the group could “Mines Whisky”. The pair locked a competitive but friendly stare before others in the group started to make their way to the pitch to greet their training opposition for the day, calling out their preferred drinks of choice.
“Beer!” “Vodka Coke” “Laaa----ggaaaaa”
The Manager turned to greet the Brighton Manager Andre Villas Boas who had quietly come to stand nearby in order to say his hello’s again, the now aged chairman Tony Bloom doing so too.
“Thanks so much for this again both of you. Hopefully this will be the edge we need.”
“Just promise us that you’ll beat ****** Manchester.” Bloom said; their second handshake of the day.
“Oh believe me; I want that more than any of you.” He couldn’t have meant it more; that game would have so much significance if it came to pass. Beating strong European opposition sure; but beating the farcical parent club of a link your board should have never created? That would be worth more than any monetary reward.
The Brighton Management over for dinner that evening, he spent the following day fulfilling some media requirements with the squad and management of the Seagulls for the fans back home as Sao Paulo took their day of rest before the all important tie.
((Super [OST] - Libby Goes Down - YouTube))
The fans were pessimistic of any chance they had of emerging victorious, though that hadn’t stopped them selling out their quota of tickets for the fixture. At 4 – 5 Boca were the bookies favourites, Sao Paulo receiving odds of 3 – 1. If only the Manager could have put money on himself, he’d seen how much his players wanted it witnessing them battering against the Brighton defence again and again. Some of the best players in the world blocked and tackled them repeatedly, but the Brazilian and Argentinean players of the tricolour just came back at them until eventually the goals began to sink home, one by one.
Right before they lined up to kick off the Manager called Bonfante over. The commentators alluded to what he might be saying, unorthodox as it was in the seconds before the start.
He took the captain’s hand in a shake and pressed his other to the same shoulder, staring hard into his eyes.
~Portuguese~ “Lead them. Win it.” He took the hand off the shoulder and pointed close to his face with an outstretched almost accusing finger “I want you to own this game like no other.”
His captain nodded strongly before slapping his boss on the arm and jogging into position. Sao Paulo kicked off, knocked it back as usual, and out it went to the wings - pressing beyond the identical formation of Boca as in the first leg.
Sangweni spread himself down the right way beyond the tracking midfielder. There was so much space on the wings beyond the Boca midfield, all they had to do was get beyond that line and they would be forcing an attempt on goal. The longer ball was favoured, looped over the top the Brazilian international took it calmly and in his stride, powering forward before crossing for his international teammate Paulista.
A savage header, all the weight and speed in the ball transferred goal-ward as the striker’s neck wrenched to add what it could to the effort, the keeper tipping it onto the bar and away.
The crowd made their cacophony of noises for the manoeuvre, the first effort so close for Sao Paulo! What a statement of intent it was, how the Manager wished though that more of these early efforts his teams seemed to have might actually go in.
He turned to see the stands, the VIP seating in particular to see Tony Bloom who had made the trip with them for the big game to see his former employee and friend work his magic with this different flavour of team.
The Argentines cleared, calls coming from the Boca main centre back as he tried to convey how furious he was over the lightning attack on their goal, but as the ball came down in the middle toward their flooded central play the call went almost completely unheard; looks between the blue and yellow shirts as to who would challenge for the ball, before one got up to head it down.
Casca stole it in a heartbeat! A little swerving pass offloading it quickly before he was set upon; and up to Paulista it went to remove the entire Boca midfield again before they could track back.
Jorginho might have struggled against the two centre backs and sweeper were he on his own, but Muller on the left was in space and screaming for it. Out it went, and Paulista immediately stuck close to the sweeper to give him something to think about as a defender peeled off.
The crowd rose in volume as the distance down the left wing was eaten up faster than anyone had anticipated, Boca were totally asleep and unable to defend against the wings this time it seemed as the young Brazilian with a German name sped on, using his arms to keep that momentum flowing on the ball, looks across to see the tall defender closing in but not nearly quickly enough. That wouldn’t do, he needed him in close to remove him from the play.
Muller slowed up, sizing up his options it seemed, Paulista pulled to the front of the box keeping in line with the last man. Both sweeper and last center back went with him. The young Sao Paulo left winger waited until the last second, his body lurching forward to sprint right to the byline, only to trap the ball as the defender committed and drag it back. Space opened, he looked to the area, eyes to the ball, and he hit it so sweetly.
The Boca defence looked so relieved as the cross was high, Paulista the front man well marked would never get it as they watched it go high above their heads out of any danger, the keeper would be coming for it or it would harmlessly bounce out of bounds.
A call came in Spanish; the gaze of the two defenders followed the alarm of their keeper to the one lone Sao Paulo player who had kept up with the play unnoticed. Bonfante climbed high to meet the ball, his eyes shutting as he smashed his head against the powerful cross coming down – his header looping back up, beyond the goalie on his 6 yard line, and straight into the back of the net.
The away support went to heaven, 5 minutes and a lead they never truly believed would ever be theirs! Bonfante made sure to sprint to Muller and Paulista, the three of them smiling so wide for the little move which had come off perfectly. Zaccari the Boca manager was suddenly looking as though he had egg on his face as playing three at the back against this capable attacking side would never work; on his feet he was shouting instructions. Lining back up, they changed, 4 at the back now with two full backs.
“That didn’t take long” Douglas almost laughed he was so happy with how it was going.
“At least we got the goal before they adapted to fill the gaps.” The Manager replied, his voice indicating he was thinking as he imparted the sentence.
“So we’ll drop back now?”
He shook his head “No, we engineered our efforts to attacking them, stun the crowd and their defence into believing that unless they all get back together we’re going to overrun them. But they look pretty composed despite that early goal, I think this might become like last year…”
“Then we should drop back.” Douglas stated again, more insistently.
“No. If we drop back they’ll rip us to shreds, you know they can score from anywhere, especially if we concede a free kick to a bit of playacting or clipping a trailing leg.”
The assistant got up a moment to pace the technical area, casting a look back down to his boss; he didn’t agree with him but fully trusted his judgement over such matters. He might have said something contrary to that sentiment on 11 minutes if he didn’t hold him in such high esteem as Ruben Arrechea equalised with a low sizzling hit from the edge of the box, space worked as the two centre backs struggled to pick him up at all.
Sao Paulo looked to struggle for the rest of the first 45 minutes then, unable to work the flanks as Boca dropped deeper and deeper, relying on probing runs from their dangerous forwards bursting out of their half. It stayed even, something which wouldn’t do, away goals didn’t count and Boca with the home crowd would only likely grow in urgency as the clock ticked on.
All 22 players looked fired up upon striding back out onto the pitch, the stands only amplifying their desires to smash the opposition. Boca hit the crossbar with a wonder striker from some 40 yards out, debatable whether he meant it but it didn’t go in as Sao Paulo cleared it.
Sangweni forced the Boca keeper into a show stopping dive to save his team falling behind.
And the rest of it was all kicking and fighting in the middle of the contest. The yellow card came out a total of 7 times for a host of players on either side before in the 75th minute Nikao Sao Paulo’s left back and Brazilian international picked up his second and earned an early bath.
((Gone In 60 Seconds Soundtrack - The Last Car. - YouTube))
It was slipping away from them with that he thought, where on earth would they find the strength from now with what they faced?
15 minutes of normal time to play with 10 men away in such a fixture would give most cause for alarm; again Maximo had a few words with his boss about dropping back and digging in….to no avail. They went to three at the back to match the initial Boca formation almost, and saw the time out.
Team talks on the pitch, the coaching staff did their routines of rubbing down cramping legs, providing the water they’d need to sweat out for another 30 minutes of hellish scrambling and sprinting with outstretched arms as the contest showed no signs of losing any of its angry edge.
~Portuguese~ “Ok guys ok, well done. Extra time, given the circumstances I can say that on the whole you’ve done brilliantly to get this far. Though it’s not over of course, I believe you’ve still got the lead when it comes to ability to create that one chance we’ll need to put this to bed.
“Bonfante” He looked to his captain currently stretched out on his back with a leg in the air as their head physio worked the calf with his quick and well trained movements to stave off any damage for at least another half an hour. All eyes were on the manager anyway, but the Argentine tried to sit up in acknowledgement ~Portuguese~ “You’ve still got something in your locker, I know you do. Burst into that space just when it’s needed, thread a pass; I don’t care….but we’re a man down so a bit of magic is what’s going to do this.”
He looked across to many of the other faces, making sure to pass Paulista, Sangweni, Alberto and Casca with his gaze. ~Portuguese~ “Just one bit of magic will do this. Now come on! You trained against Brighton and broke them down eventually, I want to see Boca getting pushed further and further back until they are all on the goal line with nothing but panic and desperation in their faces! Think of the history we'll make if you do this! Back to back wins....and who knows where you can go from this...”
The coaches got them up, collecting bottles of water at a hurried rate as the referee signalled it was time to get going for the next 15.
Sao Paulo had it to kick off, and dropping it back only so far as Casca they immediately bombed on at once, catching everyone in the stadium off guard it seemed. Sangweni received it and cut inside from his right wing, a little trickery on the ball as he held it up trying to look for that pass which didn’t mean going backwards.
In came Boca’s Yair Gonzalez looking to relieve him of possession, instead only getting both feet in the process and upending the star Brazilian. Another yellow for the game as the commentators winced with the crowd at the crunching tackle, remarks only on how the lively fixture was making firm rivals of the two clubs should they continue to meet in the competition. Sangweni was alright thank goodness.
They took their time setting up the free kick, Bonfante presiding over it as it sat too far back from the goal to have an attempt. Out to Muller who worked himself into the space on his flank. Galvan spread across with a quick call to give him an option back; it came his way promptly, then back it went again.
“Boca no puede obtener cerca de la bola ahora, cada hombre es ahora detrás del balón!” Called one of the commentators into his mic as if it was a call of danger.
The Manager got to his feet and cupped his hands in the hopes of his voice rising above the crowd’s raucous noise “SWITCH!!!”
View attachment 471646 As Galvan got the ball back again and was closed down he understood the command, hoofing it immediately after a snap look up to see Alberto on his bike down the right hand side. The right back similarly ran into trouble before long, all 10 outfield Boca players were entrenched about their box with no clear sight through.
Hands on his hips, the Manager let his head hang low before casting a look back towards to his bench; the crowds were only increasing in the volume of their noise as the Sao Paulo players kept searching for a way inside to have a crack. He waved to Douglas and a few of his coaches on the bench to up and join him as Alberto exchanged passes with Sangweni back and forth, zig zagging with each other to hold onto possession whilst all options seemed shut.
Alberto determined to keep possession dropped the pass back to the two centre backs, but in doing so saw beyond to all the looping arms climbing above all of the staffs’ heads as their mouths were shouting on repeat. He understood.
Losing his man easily, the pass came back and he collected the ball once again, without thinking another second looked up and thumped an early cross into the box. Paulista finally with something to do started jostling and chasing down where the ball might land, Bonfante plunged into the area, Casca even abandoned his post on the edge of the area as Muller and Galvan all added themselves to the mix.
A Boca head met it, looping back into the air but not clear, Galvan somehow got above everyone to knock it down, Casca threw himself into a slide to wrest it from the control of the defender who thought it was only his, kicking it out from under his feet to smack against another blue and yellow shirted chest.
What a mess it was! A Boca player cracked their full force against only to hit into Galvan who was attempting to charge it down, out it went to Muller who got a shot off at goal only for the keeper to parry it.
“Oh come on! For goodness sakes!” The Manager cried as all the staff remained on the line of their technical area watching on.
A defender was hit by the rebound, awkwardly directing it with the side of his body and what almost looked like an arm to get it out. Bonfante battling his marker with a shoulder got an inch in front, the defender threw himself into an outstretching tackle to try and get anything on the ball and knock it out of his path, the leg of Bonfante pushing out to his right to keep the effort away from the ball.
It was all in an instant as everyone looked over the scene trying to discern what on earth was going on. The Sao Paulo captain shrugged off the desperate challenge, sized up the goal as the keeper positioned himself to close it down with both gloved palms; the defenders all closing in around ready to jump to get a boot or leg in the path of the shot.
Bonfante struck it with such intensity, it hit a defender’s boot, then another’s leg as it ricocheted across the 6 yard box, and into the back of the net well away from the goalie who was dumbfounded as to how he ever would have got to it.
View attachment 471645 The moment the net rippled the stands became that beautiful contrast of hands climbing to heads, whilst on the opposite side of the stadium the white red and black shirts of the Sao Paulo travelling faithful thrust their arms to the skies to signal the beginning of their dance in celebration. All players were screaming their lungs out with joy, powering toward the halfway line and closer to their supporters as all of the outfield players just piled into one giant hug; the staff all jumping with exhilaration on the sidelines, even Junior in goal was punching the air with his fist to the fans.
As both sides calmed down and got back for the kick off Jonathan Zaccari the Boca manager was on his feet unsurprisingly, pushing his hands out toward the Sao Paulo players as all his boys understood that they had to push up with everything.
And they did.
5 minutes later they had a corner after one effort on goal went unblocked, Junior only able to tip it out as it proved more dangerous than it had first looked to the eyes following.
It swung in, the Sao Paulo goalie looking as if he had it all the way; one attacker’s body was all it took to upset his jump, tilting in the air visibly as his legs were knocked from underneath him and causing him to miss the ball entirely.
Emanuel Romero for Boca got on the end of the rapidly dipping ball, a simple downward header to bounce first before climbing into the roof of the Sao Paulo net and beyond the attempted block from the man on the post.
Boca Juniors thought they’d won it with that clearly, their striker snatching it out of the back of the net as Junior and co at the back looked defeated immediately, the frustration of the goalkeeper evident as he kicked out at the grass underfoot. Half time in extra time.
~Portuguese~ “Hey hey!!” Called the Manager; his staff still alongside “Heads up! Attack!! Go on! Attack them! Attack!”
~Portuguese~ “Attack!”
~Portuguese~ “Push the flanks! Get it into the box!” They were all calling, a medley of upbeat statements to bolster their hearts before heads started to drop and they might sit back and play for penalties.
Douglas looked to his boss with a quick glance as if he wanted to state his tactical preferences one more time, only to be met with a hand, his reply a slightly perturbed “Ok ok!” as if to say he was done suggesting it. They would attack, get that goal, or lose.
It was Paulista as he presided over the kick off that turned to the rest of his teammates who gave the cry to try and give them some encouragement of his own, Bonfante adding to it as they fought to get themselves heard above both sets of supporters believing that it was still theirs to be had now.
((Gone in 60 Seconds - 10 Memphis jumps Elle (Score) - YouTube))
The referee blew his whistle, and though it went back to the Sao Paulo midfield, Boca were out of the traps so quickly that they were unsure which direction to spread it out to. Stolen, Arrechea had a run through on goal with only Parades to beat. The pair ran alongside as he sized up the goal, the leg coming back only for Victor to go to ground, sliding in with perfect timing to dispossess him and knock it away to Alberto who at once set about starting the attack.
Fans had no idea how to react, a mixture of ‘ooo’s’ for how close it had been, with applause and cheering to spur on their own move now.
The Prince launched down that wing, a one two with Galvan as he just kept going. A **** out wide to beat his man, the ball was dangerously close to going out of play as every Boca fan in the vicinity started pleading with the usual hostile manner of football fans to the referee and linesman for the decision.
He’d kept it in, and now out of space and no ball down the line to Sangweni he played it square to Bonfante who rolled his marker with ease.
The Manager automatically clenched his fists with anticipation as his captain got a hold of it with some space, he knew that his man could produce something, and now was the time to do it.
The attacking midfielder looked left; Muller was indicating he wanted it, pointing down that line as he tried to time his run with his marker. He looked down the middle; there.
Jorginho Paulista bent his run perfectly, and as the arm came out pointing where he wanted it Claudio Bonfante tilted his body to bend his foot to it wonderfully, a searching ball over the top of the Boca defensive line. Paulista latched onto it, turned it toward the goal, saw the oncoming keeper and the gaping goal behind him, and struck it low and hard into the bottom corner.
Everyone there to see Sao Paulo FC was delirious with excitement all at once as that ball found its way into the corner of the Boca goal, the sight of Jorginho and Claudio running to their corner all the way back up the pitch with arms out as though they flew, quickly mobbed by the rest of the team was a sight to behold.
Boca set themselves for the kick off, nothing but desperation in their eyes now as the time was running out. The Manager gave a quick look to Douglas beside him before calling to his players all setting themselves to restart play.
~Portuguese~ “Drop back! Everyone defend!” His hands waving to take the play right back to their box once it was going. Douglas could only laugh before wrapping an arm about his boss in relief, pointing out a few instructions of his own to Muller on the wing close to them.
They dug in, Boca threw every man forward, down the sides they tried, early crosses, shots from well outside the area. Nothing worked. 120 minutes up, the referee blew for full time.
((Stan Bush - Never Surrender (Kickboxer 1989) HQ [Lyrics] - YouTube))
The Copa Libertadores, South America’s greatest competition, back to back wins from this resurgent Sao Paulo side! And all because they never ceased to battle as hard as they could, even with 10 men. There wasn’t any doubting the credentials of this team and the quality it held now surely, they weren’t flakers, or liable to choke when it counted. They were easily one of the best sides in the Southern Hemisphere, if not the best currently.
Bonfante almost hurled the trophy into the air as he pushed it up, the usual fanfare accompanying the scenes as streamers and shimmering confetti blasted above their heads, matched only by the small display of fireworks to wow the crowds.
The Manager and staff, substitutes and team all marched together once they had finished enjoying the moment with one another over to the supporters nestled in the corner of the stadium, electric scenes from them as shirts twirled furiously above heads, flares lit up from pockets and all mouths screamed their euphoria.
View attachment 471642 In a line together they bowed before breaking into yet more wild cheering, a move he insisted they directed to the fans as they won the thing away from home in Argentina. They had to thank the support, travelling for a game most felt they would lose comfortably was some committment.
“We’re going to have to tone this down soon.” The Manager eventually said as they broke to continue individually having turns with the trophy and playing to the crowds.
“Whys that? Let them enjoy it”
“No Douglas, remember what line of fixtures we’ve got coming up right after this?”
“Oh ****, yes, yes I do. Right; no partying tonight.”
They were still in the hunt for the league, and for whatever reason the scheduling had been bitterly unkind. The final with Boca Juniors away from home they had just won, to be followed three days later by an away game with Corinthians, followed 4 days later after that by Cruzeiro, then another derby with Santos, and another with Palmeiras.
Suddenly looking at them all tearing back and forth with the eye capturing trophy of real worth, the scenes of ecstasy for the accomplishment seemed tinged with dread for the possibility of turning up to Corinthians exhausted and unable to hold back a goal glut.
~Portuguese~ “Alright boys that’s enough! Into the changing room!"
He afforded himself another raised clap to the delirious supporters before heading in. What an achievement it was.
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