Brazil’s Romario, Bebeto & Zeca Pagodinho on the Event

This story is part of Billboard’s Global World Cup Series, a collection of 11 cover stories which pairs top soccer stars across the world competing in the 2026 FIFA World Cup with highly-touted musicians in accompanying countries.

Zeca Pagodinho is an endless source of stories and anecdotes. One of the most remarkable took place in 2012, during the celebrations of Corinthians’ world title, when he asked for a round of applause for Luiz Felipe Scolari, the coach of Palmeiras, Corinthians’ archrival. After many boos, a kind soul explained that Scolari was their coach, while Corinthians was led by Tite.

It’s almost ironic that this 67-year-old Carioca — one of the greatest names in Brazilian music of all time, and admittedly averse to soccer (“I don’t have the patience to watch matches, and whenever I do watch, my team concedes a goal,” he deflects) — ended up being the interpreter of one of the biggest anthems in recent Brazilian soccer history. The samba “Deixa a Vida me Levar” (“Let Life Take Me”), by Serginho Meriti and Eri do Cais, which Zeca recorded on his 2002 album of the same name, was adopted as an anthem by the team that won the World Cup that year. And the sambista, of course, has no idea how the song ended up there. “My son told me the players were singing it. Then they threw a party with it,” he says.

Pagodinho welcomed Billboard Brasil on a Tuesday afternoon at his headquarters, the Pagode do Zeca, and was joined by two four‑time world champions: Romário and Bebeto, the striker duo that delivered plenty of samba at the 1994 World Cup in the United States.

Zeca once took part in a tryout for Everest Atlético Clube, a club founded in the 1950s in Rio’s North Zone. “I didn’t last 10 seconds on the field. I was right back. The coach looked at me and told me to get out,” he confesses. Romário, for his part, also tried to trade the ball for the microphone. In 1995, he and fellow striker Edmundo recorded the funk track “O Rap dos Bad Boys.” “You can believe he was a better fullback than I was a singer,” Romário jokes.

Zeca even tried to score a goal. A while back, he arranged it with the opposing goalkeeper. “There was a soccer tournament in Irajá at the end of the year. I said, ‘Look, I’ll give the keeper a little something to let me score.’ It was all set. But the Irajá field back then was really bad — there was a puddle on the penalty spot. When I went to shoot, the ball stopped on the spot, and I kept sliding all the way to the goal. And I still had to pay the keeper his little bonus.”

Good samba and well‑played soccer are practically a science: the right pass, the well‑crafted verse, the play and the catchy chorus. There’s a shortage of stars in both categories. “There’s a lack of passion — people don’t fall in love anymore,” he laments. “Nowadays, whoever has more followers is good. You don’t need to sing well, have quality, or anything,” Romário chimes in, recalling the days when he would materialize in the opponent’s box.

Bebeto joins the conversation. And when a star enters the game, it’s only proper to pass the ball to him. “I love samba. Too bad that as a sambista, I was a great player,” he says, passing the ball back to samba. “Many of my hits came from Bahian songwriters,” Zeca praises.

Samba and soccer demand a trusted partner. For Zeca, one of them was singer-songwriter Arlindo Cruz (1958‑2025). “Sometimes he’d come up with a tune, and I’d write the lyrics. Sometimes we’d do it all together. Whenever we met, a samba had to come out. The last time I saw him, I went to his house, and we wrote five sambas in one night,” the sambista says. For Romário, the best attacking partner he ever had was Bebeto, his teammate from the 1994 World Cup. “He was my best passer.”

The man born Jessé Gomes da Silva Filho, however, is a master at what he does. And he tends to bring luck. So much so that he was called up to participate in “Bate no Peito” (“Hit the Chest”), the anthem meant to rally the Brazilian national team during this World Cup. Produced by Papatinho, the song brought together stars like Ludmilla, João Gomes and Samuel Rosa, each aces in their musical styles: funk-pop, piseiro and a blend of reggae with Brit-pop and Clube da Esquina flavors.

Samba is an inexhaustible well of themes. But for such a rich genre, it has approached soccer with surprising shyness. One rarity is “Samba Rubro‑Negro (O Mais Querido)” by Wilson Batista, Jorge de Castro and Alvarez, which became a huge success in the voice of João Nogueira. João updated the lyrics, which originally said: “The most beloved has Dida, Henrique and Pavão, I prayed to Saint George for Mengo to be champion.” He replaced the old stars with Zico, Adílio and Adão.

The marriage of samba and soccer also produced beautiful songs of reflection and protest. João Nogueira (1941‑2000), father of singer Diogo Nogueira, wrote “Espelho” (“Mirror”), an autobiographical song about his interrupted dream of becoming a soccer player. “And I held onto the ball and thought that one day/ I’d become a star when I became a man/ One day I kicked badly and hurt my toe/ And without my old man to take away the fear/ That was one more dream left behind,” the lyrics read. Gonzaguinha (1945‑1991), in turn, used the nation’s passion to denounce the oppressive climate of the military dictatorship in “Geraldinos e Arquibaldos” (1975). “On the opponent’s field/ You must play calmly/ Looking for a gap/ So you can win/ Man, it’s a cat’s cradle/ Look at his claws/ It’s a cat’s cradle/ Better watch yourself,” the lyrics say, using metaphors (“geraldinos” and “arquibaldos” refer to those who can afford the grandstands versus the less wealthy crowd in the general section of Maracanã Stadium) to speak of the repression in the country.

Does Brazil’s national team stand a chance of winning the World Cup? “It’s been 24 years since we won this title, right? But that’s how it is — any moment now, we can wake up. When we wake up like that…” says Bebeto.

Zeca Pagodinho intends not to watch the World Cup from his home in Barra da Tijuca, but rather at his farm in Xerém, a district of Duque de Caxias, Rio de Janeiro. “It depends on where I am, doesn’t it? If I’m in Xerém, it’s better — I put the TV in the backyard and throw a party there. Beer is never lacking. Barbecue is never lacking. So everyone stays there. Win or lose, there’s a party. And that’s what’s good, right?” he jokes. If it’s at his home in Barra, the scene is different. “It’s another vibe — the family, my son’s friends.” The four‑time champions don’t mind Zeca’s lack of interest in their profession. “He’s Zeca. Zeca can do whatever the hell he wants,” Romário sums up.