In a month of flux, Brazil keeping faith in Felipao

The editorial in ‘Lance’, Brazil’s most important daily sports newspaper, was crystal clear.

“We are all still part of Scolari’s family,” it read. “We still trust him.”

Turn the page and the theme is the same.

“For the rest of the month, Felipao is more important in Brazil than President Dilma!”

What goes unsaid is how easily the man himself seems to be dealing with the pressure.

Felipao — the name (it means Big Phil) by which all Brazilians refer to Luiz Felip Scolari, the national team manager — seems utterly relaxed, the pictures coming out of the Selecao’s remote training camp outside Rio showing him smiling on the bench, joking around with his colleagues rather than wilting under the strain despite the fog that regularly causes sessions to be cancelled.

Today, though, there can be no excuses. Brazil began the tournament with a fortuitous 3-1 win over Croatia before following that up with a lacklustre goalless draw against Mexico.

They must beat a shambolic Cameroon in Brasilia tonight to seal a last 16 spot, and in doing so they would have climbed the third of the ‘seven steps’ Scolari knows his side must scale to win the World Cup in Rio on July 13.

For the moment, though, there are no doubts among the Brazilian public, and that is largely due to the man in charge.

Scolari’s is a self-styled man of the people, a tough-guy who puts errant footballers in their place.

Born in 1948 in the southern state of Rio Grande du Sol, an hour’s drive away from Porto Alegre, Scolari’s playing career was unspectacular.

His father, Benjamin, had been a fine player in the 1940s but Scolari Jr was unable to match those achievements and was nicknamed ‘wooden leg’ — local slang for an unspectacular player.

He gained a physical education qualification and worked with several clubs as a coach before heading to Japan and the Middle East.

On his return to South America, he won the Copa do Brasil in 1991 with unfancied Criciuma before landing the Gremio job and bursting into the public consciousness.

A Copa Libertadores title — the South American equivalent of the Champions League — followed, and the public warmed to his no-nonsense image.

Despite the success he refused, for example, to trade in his 10-year-old Vauxhall for a newer model, and regularly ate at a cheap and humble restaurant near Gremio’s training ground in Porto Alegre.

Discipline was key, and after another brief spell in Japan, he won another Copa Libertadores with Palmeiras to secure his reputation.

His teams were functional rather than expressive — ‘where I am from, the emphasis is on physical play and because of that, my teams may not play beautifully,’ he once told Four-Four-Two — but he was the obvious choice when Brazil needed a coach to take them to the 2002 World Cup.

Ever the pragmatist, Scolari realised he had two outstanding talents in Rivaldo and Ronaldo. He introduced a 3-5-2 system that allowed them to thrive, and a fifth World Cup was secured.

Then came Portugal, and Chelsea. That he failed at the latter at least in part due to dressing room tensions is seen in Brazil as extremely strange and out of keeping with the man they know from the Selecao.

Certainly since succeeding Mano Manezes in November 2012, he has restored harmony to the Brazilian dressing room.

Scolari describes himself as a chameleon, able to take on a different personality depending on who he is talking to.

“I try to be the coach I always was,” he says when asked to explain his personality. “I always work this way.

“I was never a coach in a different manner, when I was abroad in a big or small team. I learnt lessons when I was a pro, with the excellent coaches I had.

“I am a mixture — a father, an uncle, a friend. That person that someone has to speak to someone a bit harsher, that is when I am a coach, a football coach.

“You have to have leadership, you have to command them. You study and define situations and take decisions. If you don’t take decisions, you can’t work as a coach.”

His players respect him, as evidenced throughout the tournament so far. Scolari has had to contend with difficulties, such as the death of his nephew in a car crash in the week leading up to the opening game. The manner in which David Luiz, Oscar and Fred hugged their coach on the training pitch after hearing the news suggested genuine closeness.

He has also brought the best from Neymar. Seeing them together in the press conference before the opening game was fascinating, two men genuinely enjoying each other’s company and joking before the world’s media.

Scolari, a vicious practical joker, is loyal to his players, which helps. The likes of Julio Cesar — unable to get a game for QPR in the Championship until he went on loan to Toronto — know they have to repay the man who has put them in such a fortunate position.

But speaking to those who have come across him, it is Scolari’s empathy and touch that stand out.

“He is very experienced,” says Willian, the Chelsea forward. “He is a very good person, apart from being in my opinion a great coach. He is like a father to us and that will help us.”

Scolari himself tells a wonderful story of the night before the 2002 World Cup final. Late at night he found some of his players, unable to sleep due to stress, playing indoor golf. Instead of being upset with them he stayed and made fun of them before, more relaxed, they went to bed at 2am. A fine touch indeed.

Just before the opening game of the tournament, I left my apartment in central Sao Paulo and headed for the stadium. A stall nearby was doing a brisk trade, primarily in two things; a magazine whose front cover was dominated by a picture of Scolari, and ‘Felipao’ moustaches.

Now the Brazilian public want to look like their manager as well as follow him. For this month at least, no-one is more important than Scolari.