Botafogo can now party like it’s 1959, when the likes of Garrincha, Zagallo, Didi and Nilton Santos, some of the all-time greats of the Brazilian game were at their peak in the club’s colours.
Recent times have provided a sad contrast with a glorious past. Botafogo have spent many recent decades as the fourth team of Rio de Janeiro, playing in front of small crowds and relegated three times to the second division — where they were when U.S. businessman John Textor took over the club in 2021. And now, three years later, they have become champions of South America for the first time, winning the Copa Libertadores with a gripping 3-1 triumph over fellow Brazilians Atletico Mineiro in Buenos Aires on Saturday.
The club is known for its attachment to superstition. Often trotted out is a phrase — with a considerable dose of self-pity — which holds that “there are things that only happen to Botafogo.”
Supporters had good cause to remember the phrase at the start of the match. Saturday’s Libertadores final shaped as the most important game in the history of the club. And less than 30 seconds after the kick-off, midfielder Gregore flew into an ugly high tackle, caught his opponent in the head, and was sent off.
A game where Botafogo took the field as clear favourites instantly changed its complexion. The expectation was that the Botafogo front four would impose themselves on the game, that a forward line assembled by Textor’s club with a combination of deep pockets and excellent scouting would click into irresistible form. And now it was a case of running, covering, sacrificing, weathering the storm and trying to get through the next few minutes.
As a spectacle, the game suffered from the immediate red card. But in another sense, it became even more gripping, ever more heroic. Because Botafogo were now confronted by their demons.
The first title of any cycle is always the hardest. And it seemed that the first title was going to come in 2023. To general surprise, including their own, Botafogo built up a massive lead in the Brazilian Serie A. It seemed as if they could not possibly be caught; until they produced one of the all-time, most spectacular collapses. Not only did they fail to win the league, they finished in fifth position — meaning that they had to go through the qualifying rounds of this year’s Libertadores.
With Textor’s investment — and the excellent scouting policy — kicking in, this year’s team is a great improvement on the class of ’23. And yet, the concept of collective trauma exists. In some of the previous rounds of the Libertadores Botafogo wobbled and flirted with throwing away a winning position. There was a sequence of poor results in the league. Maybe it was all too much? Perhaps the team was not mentally prepared for success?
Any such doubts now have to be scratched. On Tuesday they took a giant stride towards the domestic league title with a 3-1 win away to direct rivals Palmeiras. It was a morale boosting result, but it came at a cost. One centre-back, Angola international Bastos, picked up an injury that forced him out of the Libertadores final. There would be other tired limbs in the continental decider just four days later. And now they found themselves having to play the entire game against Atletico with 10 men. Indeed, there are things that only happen to Botafogo.
And those things now include winning from such a disadvantaged position. The nature of this triumph, sweated out in the Spring Argentine sunshine, makes it even more valuable. Botafogo have scaled Everest the hard way.
It helped that their opponents Atletico were so clearly short of confidence. They looked like a team that had gone 10 games without a win. There was no conviction in their attacking play. Veteran striker Hulk was a one-man band. Botafogo gradually played their way into the game, sporadically moving upfield. Over the course of the last month, goalkeeper Éverson had been Atletico’s hero, coming to the rescue time and time again. He chose the wrong time to have a bad few minutes. He could have done better with the Luiz Henrique shot that gave Botafogo the lead. And then, in a situation of no danger, he came clattering out of his goal to bring down the winger and give away a penalty, tucked away by Alex Telles.
Atletico could get no worse. Coach Gabriel Milito may well have wanted to make 10 changes at half-time. He contented himself with three, and it was enough to change the game. Hulk went out to the right wing, where he found more space, and Eduardo Vargas came on to work a dual centre-forward system with Deyverson. Instantly Vargas headed home from a Hulk corner. Game on. Pressure, attacking threat, desperate clearances, time moving all too quickly for Atletico fans, agonisingly slowly for Botafogo’s.
Vargas had two more chances. They went over the bar. Botafogo were running down the clock. The drama deserved something more than a timid ending. It got one. Botafogo brought on winger Junior Santos, who was in hot form at the start of the season but had just made it back from a lengthy injury lay-off. The 30-year-old is like a horse that can run cross country and do the dressage. And with a combination of power and dainty footwork he sealed the game with a goal right at the end. As befits this Botafogo team, the title was sewn up with a moment of class to go with all the grit they had needed to find.
It is not entirely clear what the future holds for this current side. Things are still very early in this new era of Brazilian clubs being run on business lines. Will the side be broken up, with players sold off to Europe? Some of this will surely happen. Textor, after all, owns clubs in France and Belgium, and seems keen to get rid of his 49% stake in Crystal Palace in order to have a controlling position in another Premier League club.
Can Botafogo justify the amount of money that Textor has invested in this team? The answers are not clear. But at the moment this is hardly a concern for many of the supporters. They do not have to go far back to recall dismal days in the second division. Now they are champions of South America. Let them party like it’s 1959.
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