Ink And Insight

Stockholm, Sweden. 1958. Brazil arrived carrying a wound that had never healed. Eight years earlier, in 1950, they had lost the World Cup final at home. In front of 200,000 people at the Maracanã. The silence that followed broke a nation. Grown men wept in the streets. Some never watched football again. Now they were back. With a new manager, Vicente Feola. A new philosophy. More disciplined, but still brilliant. But something was missing. The tournament began, and Brazil played well. They won their matches. But there was no spark. No magic. Then, in their third group match against the Soviet Union, the coaches made a decision. They put a boy on the pitch. He was 17 years old. Not even fully fit. His name was Edson Arantes do Nascimento. The world would come to know him as Pelé. He didn't score in that first match. But he was a revelation. Fast. Creative. He moved like water across the field, flowing past defenders as if they weren't there. In the quarterfinal against Wales, he...

Is the UN Relevant?  A question I posed to some of the groups.  I got mixed reactions.  My thoughts on this issue (by no means authoritative) are as follows. I've been thinking about the UN lately.  Is it relevant? My view—we should seriously consider dismantling it for the following reasons. The UN system, including the core budget, peacekeeping operations, and specialized agencies, costs billions of dollars annually. Sadly, this huge investment has failed to deliver on its primary purpose of maintaining international peace and security.  Since the end of WW2, the UN has failed to prevent or resolve the Korean War, Vietnam War, Cyprus war, Rwanda and Gaza genocides, Serbian massacre, wars in Iraq, Libya, Syria, and Afghanistan, the Arab-Israeli wars, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, and the US invasion of Venezuela. These are just the major conflicts. Countless smaller ones, like the Thailand-Cambodia crisis and China's invasion of Vietnam, show the same pattern. ...

Bern, Switzerland. Nine years after the war ended, Germany wasn't supposed to be there. Their country was divided, their cities still in ruins. Many of their players had been soldiers just years before. Some had been prisoners of war. But here they were. In the World Cup final. Across the pitch stood Hungary. The greatest team in the world. They hadn't lost in four years. 31 matches without defeat. They had humiliated England 6-3 at Wembley, then 7-1 in Budapest. They crushed the Soviet Union. They scored goals no one had seen before. Led by Ferenc Puskás and the brilliant playmaker Nándor Hidegkuti, they were called the Magical Magyars. Newspapers predicted they would win easily. Germany had barely qualified. They had lost 8-3 to Hungary earlier in the tournament. The final began as expected. Hungary scored in six minutes. Then again in eight minutes. 2-0. The dream was dying before German eyes. Then the sky opened. Rain poured down. The pitch turned to mud. German...