Every four years, Brazil arrive to the World Cup carrying two bags: one filled with talent, the other weighed down by expectations.

The talent changes. The burden doesn’t.

Every new generation inherits the same impossible standard. Fanatics expect samba in football boots. They expect elasticos, no-look passes, outrageous nutmegs and dance celebrations.

They expect jogo bonito.

That’s been far from the reality. And they have been far from their best.

For nearly three decades, Brazil have served football that is disciplined, calculated and cautious. Good enough to compete but not enticing enough to enchant. Since lifting the World Cup in 2002, the near misses are so well documented; it’s no use rewinding the pain.

Zidane’s masterclass in 2006. The Dutch comeback in 2010. The Mineirão nightmare in 2014 after Neymar suffered a spine injury from single-handedly carrying the nation on his back. Then, Belgium in 2018. Croatia in 2022.

And with that expectation comes the nostalgic comparisons.

Every touch is compared to Pelé. Every dribble to Ronaldinho. Every moment of brilliance to Romario. Every goal to Ronaldo. Each generation walks onto the pitch wearing boots far bigger than their own.

With over 200 million people coaching the team from living-room couches and bar stools, is this really surprising? Overnight, everyone becomes a manager, convinced they saw the pass that wasn’t played, the space that wasn’t exploited, or the chance that should have been taken.

And yet, ironically, the one man who now carries that responsibility isn’t even Brazilian.

Carlo Ancelotti’s greatest gift has never been tactics alone, but knowing when to conduct and when to allow the orchestra to do their thing.

It’s where he excels best. It’s Sinatra at the Opera.

Five-time world champions are expected to find a way, even on days when they are far from their best. For Brazil, anything less than beautiful football is anathema to their very identity.

Against Japan, they huffed and puffed before Gabriel Martinelli’s stoppage-time winner booked their place in the round of 16.

We caught glimpses of what this team could become against Haiti and Scotland, but these were opponents Brazil were expected to beat. Sterner tests in England, Mexico or even Argentina lie ahead to get to the final.

For Brazil, the “how” is as important as the “what”. The truth is the world doesn’t want Brazil to simply win. It wants Brazil to make us fall in love with football again.

And if Brazil were to lift this World Cup, it would become one great continental celebration. Cities will become carnivals. São Paulo would turn Avenida Paulista into a river of yellow, moving as one pulse, one endless chorus, and one refusal to go home.

Belo Horizonte would remember its giants. From Brasilia to Rio, Porto Alegre to Fortaleza, the country would celebrate for weeks, reconnecting with a version of itself it has been chasing since 2002.

History would simply rewrite the narrative. They will say Brazil would have won it in 2014 if not for Zuniga’s knee.

Historians will tell you the near misses were stepping stones. Brazil’s 24-year wait for an elusive sixth World Cup would not read as decline, but as a patient return to the summit.

After the Norway game, it will be clear whether this Brazil side of Vinícius Júnior, Marquinhos, Raphinha and Alisson has what it takes.

Well, what can I say?

The Scandinavians have sent Brazil out!!!

Brazil faltered. They failed to take their chances and, once again, couldn’t break the hoodoo of beating Norway. Two penalties came and went and Bruno Guimarães, chosen ahead of the likes of Cunha and Vini, missed his.

The young Endrick later squandered a sitter, in a manner that would have made Ronaldinho choke on a burger. Substitutions did little to change the tide.

Haaland was undoubtedly the star of the game. On our television screens, he led what was possibly the greatest Viking conquest of the New World since Ragnar Lothbrok.

Two immaculately taken goals, each one a dagger driven through the hearts of millions.

In truth, Brazil looked uninspired from the first whistle, unable to find their rhythm or dance to the beat of the Norwegian drums, and by the time Neymar converted the consolation penalty, the damage had long since been done.

The 2026 World Cup Brazilian side had hoped to emulate their past heroes. Instead, the ramifications of this defeat are dire.

Although, Neymar draws level with Pelé as the only Brazilian to score in four different World Cups, he tearfully bows out of international football with no Ballon d’or and no gold medal…a far cry from the player, and the team, that were supposed to be the gold standard.

Someone will have to take the blame.

Because the problem is that Brazil’s not only lost their substance, they have also lost their charm.

Rock bottom is a trampoline.

For now, our beloved Seleção must endure another agonizing four-year wait before they can become Brazil again; hopefully doing it in a style that made them truly iconic.