[AdamJones113]

It was Luiz Scolari's custom to drive, or rather to be driven, along country roads to and from cities in Brazil, where he had been for various reasons. Scolari hoped, each time, to see a game of football breaking out; he'd often stop and watch for a little while. He loved soccer, and soccer, for all his life, had loved him.

It was on one such occasion that Scolari was driving from Sao Paulo to Bahia, to see his longtime friend Marquinhos Santos, who had just been made Bahia's manager. Scolari set off two weeks before the season started; he wanted no friendships to cloud his managerial prowess.

45 out of Sau Paolo, on the outskirts of the favelas of Rio Di Janiero, Scolari saw a game of football already in progress.

"Driver," he called, "let's stop for a bit, watch some of the game."

His driver at first would have protested, but he had been driving his friend for 10 years now (in fact, Scolari joked that most of his best insights came from the ride), gave a shrug and pulled over.

The driver grabbed a gun as he left the car, just in case.

Scolari saw that the game was already 1-0; he read the crude scoreboard erected. His trained eyes wandered from player to player.

The eyes stopped and stayed on a teenager, maybe 18 years old, in a grimy green T-shirt. They stayed there the entire game.

The kid was a natural, a phenomenal ball-handler, creating chances on every chance and always coming back on defense. His plays, which grew to include a beautiful goal and an imaginative assist, received the loudest cheers of all from the motley crowd of spectators.

Scolari knew that he had to have this player; he'd watch the game and find out more.

Scolari turned to a bear of a man, at least 6'6 and 240 lbs. Scolari did not fail to notice the hardness in the man's eyes nor the pistol at his waist.

"Who is he?" Scolari asked. There was no need to specify which player he was referring to.

The man turned to Scolari, not knowing who he was nor how he could not know the answer to his own question.

"você não sabe quem ele é?" "You don't know who he is?" The man's companions, also carrying holstered weapons, laughed. Scolari got the feeling that they weren't police. The entire group cheered once more as the teenager brought an opposing defender to his knees with a head fake.

"He is the elevated one. ele é o elevado."