Romário: The Life Story Behind Brazil's Box Genius

Romário was a striker who made the hardest job in football look like the easiest one. He did not run all over the pitch. He did not chase lost causes. He waited, he watched, and when the ball came near the goal, he was already there, one step ahead of the defender, one touch ahead of the goalkeeper. His goals were rarely spectacular in the way a long-range shot is spectacular. They were quiet, clever, and deadly, and they came so often that people stopped being surprised by them. He scored more than a thousand goals in his career, by his own count, and whether that number is exact or not, the truth behind it is clear: no one in his generation was better at putting the ball in the net.

He was born on 29 January 1966 in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and he grew up in the Jacarezinho neighbourhood, a poor area where football was played on small pitches and in the street. As a boy he was small, and many people thought he was too small to become a professional footballer. He proved them wrong by learning the one skill that matters most for a striker: how to be in the right place at the right time. He did not need to be the biggest or the fastest. He needed to be the cleverest, and he was.

His story is also a story of confidence, of a man who believed in himself so completely that it sometimes annoyed other people. He spoke openly about his own greatness, he clashed with coaches, and he lived his life on his own terms. Yet when Brazil needed him most, at the 1994 World Cup in the United States, he delivered, and he was named the best player of the tournament. This is the story of a small boy from Rio who became one of the greatest goalscorers the game has ever seen.

Jacarezinho Streets and the Small Boy Who Scored Anyway

Romário de Souza Faria was born in Rio de Janeiro, and his early life was spent in Jacarezinho, a neighbourhood where life was hard and football was a way of dreaming. He played on the streets and on rough ground, with a ball that was often worn and with goals made from whatever was at hand. The games were small-sided and fast, and a player who wanted the ball had to fight for it, had to think quickly, and had to finish his chances, because there were not many of them. Romário learned all of that before he ever joined a club.

He was small for his age, and that shaped his game in a way that taller boys never had to learn. He could not win headers by jumping over defenders, and he could not push them aside with strength. Instead, he learned to move. He learned to take a step to the left when the defender went right, to arrive at the far post when everyone else was watching the near post, and to shoot first time, before the goalkeeper had time to set himself. Those small movements, made in a fraction of a second, became the foundation of his whole career. He was not a striker who needed ten chances. He needed one, and he usually took it.

His family encouraged him, and local coaches noticed that this small boy scored goals in every game he played. He joined the youth teams of local clubs, and his reputation grew in Rio. He was not a player who impressed with tricks or with long runs. He impressed by scoring, again and again, in a way that seemed almost unfair. Defenders would mark him tightly, and he would still find a yard of space. Goalkeepers would come out to narrow the angle, and he would still find the corner. It was as if he knew where the ball was going before anyone else did.

When Vasco da Gama, one of Rio’s great clubs, signed him as a teenager, it was the first big step of his career. Vasco had a proud history, and its fans expected their strikers to score. Romário did not disappoint. He moved through the youth ranks quickly, and he made his professional debut while still a teenager. The step from street football to professional football is a large one, but Romário took it without fear. He had been scoring goals his whole life, and he saw no reason to stop now.

At Vasco, he learned the discipline of professional training, the importance of fitness, and the pressure of playing in front of large crowds. He also learned that his size, which had once been seen as a weakness, could be a strength. A small striker is harder to see in a crowded penalty area, harder to mark, and quicker to turn. Romário used all of that, and by the time he left Vasco, he was one of the most feared young strikers in Brazil, and Europe was beginning to watch him.

Vasco da Gama and the First Taste of Stardom

Romário’s years at Vasco da Gama, from the mid-1980s, turned a promising teenager into a professional goalscorer. He played alongside experienced players, and he learned how to handle the physical side of the Brazilian game, where defenders were tough and referees allowed a great deal of contact. He scored regularly in the Rio state championship and in the Brazilian league, and his name began to appear in newspapers across the country. Fans of other clubs knew that when Vasco came to town, Romário would be the danger, and they were usually right.

He also earned his first call-ups to the Brazilian national team, and he played at the 1988 Olympic Games in Seoul, where Brazil won the silver medal and Romário was the top scorer of the tournament. The Olympics were a showcase for young players, and his goals there told the world that Brazil had a new striker. He was twenty-two, and he was ready for Europe. The Dutch club PSV Eindhoven, which had a fine record of developing Brazilian players, signed him in 1988, and his life changed again.

PSV was a different world from Vasco. The football was more organised, the training was more scientific, and the weather was colder than anything he had known in Rio. Many South American players struggle with the move to northern Europe, with the language, the food, and the long winters. Romário adapted quickly, because his game did not depend on the weather or on the language. It depended on his movement in the box, and that worked anywhere. In his first season, he scored goals freely, and PSV won the Dutch league.

He spent five seasons at PSV, and he scored more than a hundred league goals for the club, winning three Dutch league titles. He became a hero in Eindhoven, and the fans loved him for his goals and for his personality. He was not a quiet player. He enjoyed life, he enjoyed the city, and he spoke his mind. Coaches sometimes found him difficult, because he did not always train the way they wanted, and he did not always follow their rules. But when matchday came, he scored, and that made a great many arguments disappear.

His time in the Netherlands also taught him about European football, about the tactics and the discipline that would serve him later at Barcelona and with Brazil. He learned to play against defenders who were organised and well-drilled, and he learned to find space where there seemed to be none. By the time he left PSV in 1993, he was no longer a promising young striker. He was one of the best goalscorers in the world, and Barcelona, the biggest club in Spain, wanted him.

Barcelona, the Dream Team, and a Partnership with Stoichkov

Romário joined Barcelona in 1993, at the age of twenty-seven, and he arrived at a club that was already famous. The manager was Johan Cruyff, the Dutch legend who had built a team known as the Dream Team, a side that played beautiful, attacking football and had won the European Cup in 1992. Romário was asked to be the goalscorer at the front of that team, and he fitted in at once. He scored thirty goals in his first league season, and Barcelona won the Spanish league title.

His partnership with the Bulgarian forward Hristo Stoichkov was one of the most feared in Europe. Stoichkov was fierce, powerful, and direct, while Romário was calm, clever, and clinical. Together, they gave defenders two very different problems, and most teams could not solve either of them. Romário’s goals came from inside the penalty area, from toe-pokes, from flicks, from shots taken before anyone expected them. He had a famous move, a little drag of the ball with the sole of his foot, that sent defenders the wrong way and opened up the goal. It looked simple, and it was almost impossible to stop.

He also scored a memorable hat-trick against Real Madrid in a five-nil win at the Camp Nou, a match that Barcelona fans still talk about today. To score three goals against Real Madrid, the club’s greatest rivals, in a match that ended five-nil, is the kind of achievement that makes a player a legend at Barcelona. Romário did it with his usual calm, as if scoring against Real Madrid were no different from scoring against anyone else. That calm was part of his gift. He did not get nervous in big matches. He got better.

But his time at Barcelona was also marked by clashes with Cruyff, who demanded discipline and hard training, and by Romário’s own love of the nightlife in the city. He missed training sessions, he arrived late, and he argued with the manager. Cruyff was a man who believed in rules, and Romário was a man who believed in himself. The two men respected each other’s football, but they did not always get along, and after two seasons, Romário left Barcelona and returned to Brazil, to play for Flamengo. He had won the league with Barcelona, and he had scored many goals, but his time in Spain ended sooner than it might have, and many fans wondered what more he could have achieved if he had stayed.

The 1994 World Cup and the Golden Ball

The 1994 World Cup in the United States was Romário’s finest hour, and it was the tournament that made him a world champion. Brazil had not won the World Cup since 1970, and the pressure on the team was enormous. The coach, Carlos Alberto Parreira, built the team around a strong defence and around Romário, who was asked to score the goals that would win matches. He did exactly that. He scored five goals in the tournament, and he was the player who made the difference in tight games.

His partnership with Bebeto, another Brazilian forward, was crucial. Bebeto was a clever, mobile player, and the two of them understood each other well. When Bebeto scored against the Netherlands in the quarter-final, he celebrated by rocking an imaginary baby, a gesture for his newborn son, and Romário joined him. That image became one of the most famous of the tournament. Brazil beat the Netherlands three goals to two, and they moved on to the semi-final, where they beat Sweden by one goal to nil, with Romário scoring the winner.

The final, against Italy, was a tense match that ended goalless after extra time, and Brazil won on penalties. Romário did not score in the final, but he had carried the team to it, and he was named the best player of the tournament, winning the Golden Ball. He was also named FIFA World Player of the Year in 1994. For a boy from Jacarezinho, it was the greatest possible achievement, and it confirmed what he had always believed about himself: that he was the best striker in the world.

The World Cup win also changed his place in Brazilian football history. Brazil had waited twenty-four years for a fourth World Cup, and Romário was the man who delivered it. He was not a player who had come through the system quietly. He was a man who had spoken boldly, who had demanded his place, and who had then proved that he deserved it. That is why Brazilians loved him, even when they were annoyed by him. He had backed up his words with goals, on the biggest stage of all.

After the World Cup, he returned to Brazil and played for Flamengo, the club he had supported as a boy, and the fans adored him. He scored goals for Flamengo, and he enjoyed being back in Rio, close to his family and to the life he knew. But his career after 1994 was not as smooth as his career before it. He moved clubs often, he had disputes with coaches, and he was left out of the 1998 World Cup squad after an injury and a disagreement with the coaching staff. That omission hurt him deeply, because he believed he could still help Brazil, and he watched the tournament from home as Brazil reached the final and lost to France.

A Thousand Goals, Later Clubs, and the Long Goodbye

Romário played on into his forties, moving between clubs in Brazil, in Qatar, in Australia, and in the United States, and scoring goals wherever he went. He played for Flamengo again, for Vasco again, for Fluminense, and for other teams, and he kept finding the net. His movement in the box had not left him, even as his pace faded, and he showed that a clever striker can score at any age if he knows where to stand and when to move. He became known for his claim that he had scored a thousand goals in his career, a milestone he said he reached in 2007, while playing for Vasco, when he scored against Sport Recife. The goal was celebrated widely in Brazil, though some people questioned the count, because it included goals from youth matches and friendlies as well as official games. Romário did not care about the debate. For him, the thousand goals were a symbol of a life spent scoring, and he celebrated them as such.

His later years were also marked by a growing interest in life beyond football. He had a daughter, Ivy, who was born with Down syndrome, and he became a passionate advocate for the rights of people with disabilities. He spoke about his daughter with love and pride, and he used his fame to push for better treatment and better opportunities for people like her. That work would become a central part of his life after football, and it showed a side of Romário that many people had not seen: a father who cared deeply, and a man who was willing to fight for others as hard as he had fought for goals.

He finally retired from professional football in 2008, at the age of forty-two, after a career that had lasted more than two decades. He had played for many clubs, he had won a World Cup, he had been named the best player in the world, and he had scored goals in every country he played in. He retired as one of the great goalscorers in the history of the game, and as a player who had done things his own way, from start to finish. He had not been the easiest player to manage, and he had not always made the choices that others wanted him to make, but he had been true to himself, and that was something he valued more than praise.

Politics, Advocacy, and a Second Career in Public Life

After retirement, Romário entered politics, and he was elected as a federal deputy in Rio de Janeiro in 2010, and later as a senator in 2014. His political career surprised some people, but it made sense to those who knew him. He had always spoken his mind, he had always cared about his community, and he had a strong following among ordinary Brazilians. In politics, he focused on the rights of people with disabilities, inspired by his daughter Ivy, and he pushed for laws and policies that would improve their lives. He also spoke out about corruption in Brazilian football, and about the way the sport was run, and he was not afraid to criticise powerful people.

His time in politics has been controversial at times, as politics always is, and he has faced criticism for some of his positions and for some of his alliances. But his work on disability rights has been widely praised, and it has given him a purpose beyond football. He has used his position to raise awareness, to meet families, and to argue for better schools, better healthcare, and better opportunities for people with disabilities. For many of those families, Romário is not only a former footballer. He is a man who understands their lives, because he lives them himself as a father.

He has also remained a public figure in Brazil, appearing on television, giving interviews, and commenting on football. He is still outspoken, still confident, and still willing to say what he thinks, even when it annoys people. That is who he has always been, and he has not changed with age. He remains, in the eyes of many Brazilians, the striker who won the 1994 World Cup, the man who scored a thousand goals, and the father who fights for his daughter and for others like her.

Today, Romário is remembered as one of the greatest strikers of all time, and as a player who redefined what a small forward could do. He showed that a striker does not need to be tall or powerful to dominate. He needs to be clever, calm, and ruthless in front of goal. The young strikers who came after him, in Brazil and around the world, learned from his movement, from his first touch, and from his ability to score with so little space. He left the game as a legend, and he left it on his own terms, which is exactly how he lived his whole life.

The Art of the Toe-Poke and the Striker’s Craft

Romário’s finishing was a craft of its own, and it is worth studying in detail, because it was unlike the finishing of any other great striker. He did not shoot with power from distance, as Batistuta did, and he did not run past defenders with the ball, as Ronaldo did. He waited, he watched, and he used the smallest possible movement to score. His most famous finish was the toe-poke, a shot struck with the toe, with almost no backlift, that sent the ball low and hard into the corner before the goalkeeper had time to react. It looked like a mistake, as if he had mishit the ball, but it was deliberate, and it was deadly. He scored many goals with that toe-poke, and goalkeepers hated it, because there was no warning, no big swing to read, and no time to set themselves.

He also had a move with the sole of his foot, a little drag that pulled the ball back and sent the defender the wrong way, opening up a yard of space in a crowded penalty area. He used that move again and again, and defenders knew it was coming, and they still fell for it, because it was so quick and so subtle. He did not need a large space. He needed a yard, and he could make that yard himself, with a touch, with a feint, or with a change of direction so small that the crowd barely saw it. That economy of movement is the mark of a master, and it is what separated Romário from other strikers who needed more room and more time.

His positioning was the other half of his craft. He stood in the penalty area, and he seemed to be doing nothing, and then the ball arrived, and he was already there, one step ahead of the defender, one touch ahead of the goalkeeper. He understood that a striker’s job is not to run, but to be in the right place, and he spent his career learning where that place was. He watched the ball, he watched the defender, and he moved at the last moment, when it was too late for the defender to follow. That timing, that sense of when to move, is a gift, but it is also a skill that can be learned, and Romário learned it better than anyone.

He was also a fine header of the ball, despite his size, because he timed his jumps well, and because he attacked the ball with aggression. He scored headers in big matches, and he showed that a small striker can score with his head if he is clever and brave. He was brave, too, in the way he played. He went into challenges with bigger defenders, he took knocks, and he got up again, because he knew that a striker who is afraid of being hurt will never score. He was not afraid, and that fearlessness, combined with his craft, made him one of the most complete finishers the game has ever seen.

My Take:

I think Romário is the most underrated great striker in football history, and I say that because people talk about Ronaldo and Pelé and Messi, and they often forget Romário. That is a mistake. He was a genius in the penalty area, and I mean the word genius in its true sense. He saw space that no one else saw, he moved a fraction of a second before everyone else, and he finished with a calm that made the hardest chances look easy. I have watched his goals, and I am still amazed by how little he needed. One touch, one step, one shot, and the ball was in the net. That economy, that refusal to waste a movement, is the mark of a master, and I do not think enough people appreciate it.

What I admire most about him is his confidence. He believed he was the best, and he said so, openly, without apology. In a world where athletes are taught to be humble, to say the right things, and to never boast, Romário broke the rules. He said he was the best striker in the world, and then he went out and proved it. I find that refreshing, because false modesty is boring, and because his confidence was not empty. It was based on goals, on trophies, on a World Cup, and on a Golden Ball. He did not boast about things he had not done. He boasted about things he had done, and that is a very different matter.

I also admire the way he played the game. He did not run himself into the ground, he did not chase every ball, and he did not try to be everywhere at once. He waited. He watched. He saved his energy for the moment that mattered, and when that moment came, he was ready. That takes a kind of intelligence that is rare in football, where players are often praised for running more, not for thinking more. Romário thought more. He understood that a striker’s job is not to run, but to score, and he organised his whole game around that simple truth. I think coaches and young players should study that, because it shows that football is not only about effort. It is also about wisdom.

The 1994 World Cup is the heart of his story for me. Brazil had not won the tournament for twenty-four years, and the whole country was desperate. Romário carried that desperation on his small shoulders, and he delivered. He scored five goals, he won the Golden Ball, and he led Brazil to the title. I think about the pressure of that, and I am amazed that he handled it so well. He was not a player who hid in big matches. He was a player who wanted the ball, who wanted the chance, who wanted the responsibility. That is a rare quality, and it is the quality that separates good players from great ones. Good players score when it is easy. Great players score when it matters most, and Romário scored when it mattered most.

There is a sadness in his story too, and it is the sadness of a man who was left out of the 1998 World Cup. He believed he could still help Brazil, and he was hurt when he was not chosen. I feel sympathy for him, because to be left out of a World Cup is a painful thing for any player, and it is especially painful for a man who had won the previous one. He watched from home as Brazil lost the final to France, and he must have wondered what might have happened if he had been there. We will never know, and that is part of the sadness. His international career ended not with a triumph, but with a disappointment, and that is a hard ending for a great player.

I also think about his claim of a thousand goals, and I have mixed feelings about it. Some people say the count included goals that should not count, from youth games and friendlies, and they are right to point that out. But I also think the debate misses the point. Romário scored goals for more than twenty years, in many countries, for many clubs, and at every level. Whether the true number is a thousand or a little less, the achievement is the same: he was a goalscorer for longer than almost anyone in the history of the game. I would rather celebrate that longevity than argue about the exact number. The number is a symbol, and the symbol is true, even if the counting is debatable.

What moves me most about his later life is his work for people with disabilities, inspired by his daughter Ivy. I did not expect that from Romário, the confident, outspoken striker who seemed to care only about goals and about himself. But it is real, and it is important. He became a politician, he fought for laws, and he used his fame to help families who needed help. That work has nothing to do with football, and it has everything to do with being a father. I respect him for it deeply, because it shows that a man can change, that a man can find a new purpose after his first career ends, and that the love of a father can be a more powerful force than the love of a game.

If I have to name a flaw, it is that his career could have been even greater if he had been more disciplined. He clashed with coaches, he missed training, and he left Barcelona after only two seasons, when he might have stayed for many more. He had the talent to be even better than he was, and that is a strange thing to say about a man who won the World Cup and was named the best player in the world. But it is true. His talent was so great that even a career as brilliant as his feels, in some ways, like a career that could have been greater still. I do not say that to diminish him. I say it because it is part of the truth, and because it is a lesson for young players: talent is not enough, and discipline matters, even for the most gifted.

What I learn from Romário is that size does not decide your fate. He was small, and people told him he was too small, and he proved them wrong, not by becoming bigger, but by becoming cleverer. He learned to move, to think, to finish, and he turned his size into an advantage. I think that lesson applies to many parts of life. We all have something that others see as a weakness, and we have a choice: we can let it stop us, or we can learn to work around it, and to make it a strength. Romário chose the second path, and he became one of the greatest strikers in history. That is a powerful example, and it is one I would share with any young person who feels too small, too slow, or too different to succeed.

I also learn from him that confidence matters. Not arrogance, but the quiet belief that you belong, that you can do the job, and that you do not need to apologise for being good. Romário believed in himself, and that belief gave him the courage to take the shot, to demand the ball, to step up in the final. Many talented players fail because they do not believe in themselves when it matters. Romário never had that problem, and I think his career is proof that belief, when it is based on real work and real ability, is not a flaw. It is a strength, and it is one of the most important strengths a person can have.

In the end, I think Romário’s story is a story of a small boy who became a giant, not by growing taller, but by growing cleverer, braver, and more determined. He scored goals that made people smile, he won a World Cup that made a whole country celebrate, and he became a father who fights for his daughter and for others. He was not perfect, and his career was not perfect, but it was extraordinary, and it was his. I am glad that football had a striker like him, and I am glad that Brazil had a son like him, because he showed the world that the box, that small crowded space in front of the goal, could be a place of genius, and that a man who understood it could become a legend.

I will remember him for the toe-poke, for the little drag of the ball, for the calm finish, and for the way he celebrated with Bebeto in 1994, rocking an imaginary baby. Those images stay with me, because they are images of joy, of friendship, and of a man who loved to score. Football needs players like that, players who remind us that the game is about goals, and that goals are about joy. Romário gave us that joy for more than twenty years, and for that, I am grateful. He was a box genius, and the box was his home, and no one ever owned it quite like he did.

I also want to say something about his finishing, because I think it is the most underrated part of his game. People talk about his goals, but they do not talk enough about how he scored them, about the toe-poke, about the little drag, about the movement that created a yard of space where there seemed to be none. That finishing was an art, and it was an art that he practised for years, in the streets of Jacarezinho, in training, and in matches. He did not score by accident. He scored by design, by thinking, and by understanding the penalty area better than anyone else. I think young strikers should study his movement, not only his goals, because the movement is what made the goals possible, and it is a skill that any young player can learn, if they are willing to watch, to think, and to practise.

There is another thing I respect about him, and it is his refusal to be intimidated. He was small, and people told him he was too small, and he did not listen. He played against bigger defenders, in tougher leagues, and he scored, again and again, because he believed in himself, and because he had a craft that no defender could take away. That refusal to be intimidated is a lesson for anyone who feels too small, too weak, or too different. Romário proves that the world will tell you what you cannot do, and that you do not have to believe it. You can prove the world wrong, not by becoming someone else, but by becoming better at being yourself.

I also think about his relationship with the Brazilian people, and how it changed over time. When he was young, they loved him for his goals. When he was older, some of them criticised him for his lifestyle, for his clashes with coaches, and for his outspoken words. But when he became a politician and fought for people with disabilities, many of those same people saw a different Romário, a father who cared, and a man who used his fame for good. That change, that growth, is a part of his story that I find hopeful, because it shows that people can change, that a man known for scoring goals can become known for fighting for others, and that a life can have more than one chapter, and more than one kind of greatness.

Finally, I think his story is a reminder that football is a game of the box, that small crowded space in front of the goal, and that the player who understands the box can become a legend. Romário understood it better than anyone, and he made it his home, and he scored in it for more than twenty years. That is a legacy that will last, because it is written not only in record books, but in the way strikers still move, still wait, and still finish, in the box, today. When I watch a modern striker score with a toe-poke, or with a first-time finish, I see a little bit of Romário in him, and I am glad for it, because it means that the box genius is still teaching, even now, years after he stopped playing.

I also think about the World Cup final in 1994, and about the penalties, and about how Romário felt when Brazil won. He had carried the team through the tournament, he had scored five goals, and in the final, against Italy, he did not score, but he was there, and he watched as his teammates won the shoot-out. That must have been a strange feeling, to be the hero of the tournament, and yet to watch the final moment from the side, as others took the penalties. I think he understood, in that moment, that football is a team game, and that even the greatest striker cannot win alone. He needed his teammates, and they needed him, and together they won, and that is a lesson worth remembering: no one wins alone, not even Romário.

One more thing I admire is his sense of humour, and the way he never took himself too seriously, even when he was the best player in the world. He joked, he smiled, and he enjoyed life, and that joy was a part of his game, because a player who enjoys football plays better than one who is afraid. He was not afraid, and he enjoyed every match, and that enjoyment made his goals even more beautiful, because they were scored with a smile. I wish more players had that joy, because football is a game, and games should be fun, and Romário never forgot that, even when the pressure was greatest.

And I think about his daughter Ivy, and about how becoming her father changed him, from a striker who cared only about goals, to a man who cared about others, and who fought for their rights. That change is the most important part of his later life, and it is a part that I hope people remember, alongside the goals, because it shows that a person can grow, can find a new purpose, and can use their fame to help people who need help. Romário did that, and he is still doing it, in politics, in public life, and as a father, and that is a legacy that matters just as much as any goal he ever scored.

Frequently Asked Questions

Why is Romário called a box genius?

He earned that name because of his rare skill inside the penalty area, where he used small movements, quick turns, and calm first-time finishes to score from very little space. He did not need many chances, and he often scored with a toe-poke or a flick that defenders did not expect.

How many goals did Romário score in the 1994 World Cup?

He scored five goals in the tournament in the United States, including the winner in the semi-final against Sweden. He was named the best player of the tournament and won the Golden Ball as Brazil won their fourth World Cup.

Did Romário really score one thousand goals?

Romário celebrated a thousandth goal in 2007 while playing for Vasco, but the count included goals from youth matches and friendlies as well as official games. The exact official total is debated, though his longevity as a scorer over more than twenty years is not in doubt.

Which European clubs did Romário play for?

He played for PSV Eindhoven in the Netherlands for five seasons, winning three Dutch league titles, and then for Barcelona in Spain, where he scored thirty league goals in his first season and won the Spanish league. He also had a brief spell with Valencia.

Why was Romário left out of the 1998 World Cup?

He was left out of Brazil’s squad for France 1998 after an injury and a disagreement with the coaching staff. He was deeply disappointed, and he watched from home as Brazil reached the final and lost to France.

What has Romário done in politics?

After retiring in 2008, he was elected as a federal deputy in 2010 and as a senator in 2014 in Brazil. He has focused on the rights of people with disabilities, inspired by his daughter Ivy, who was born with Down syndrome.

Who was Romário’s strike partner at the 1994 World Cup?

His main strike partner was Bebeto, and the two formed a clever and mobile pairing. Bebeto’s famous baby-rocking celebration after scoring against the Netherlands, with Romário joining him, became one of the iconic images of the tournament.