Brazil are stalked by their history: the "mystique", as Carlos Alberto calls it, of 1970 and 1982, which the Pelé generation pine for in this age of near military organisation on the field. The scorer of arguably the World Cup's finest goal – in the 4-1 win over Italy in the 1970 final – accuses Dunga's team of abusing a national "tradition" and wishes he could watch this tournament from home instead of South Africa.
It is a short journey to find an old idol willing to lacerate today's players for failing to match their own exalted standards. In Brazil they can be found in swarms, because the 1970 team (Pelé, Jairzinho, Rivelino, Tostão) were the country's masterwork. For 40 years the Seleção have laboured in that shadow, adopting a less expressive, more European style while trying to preserve, in reduced form, Brazilian football's higher raison d'être.
Carlos Alberto Torres (his namesake, Parreira, is the South Africa coach) is less curmudgeonly than he sounds. And he concedes that any Brazilian who played in 1970 bears a kind of curse. He says: "I used to coach teams. [Franz] Beckenbauer is my very close friend. I was in his house in Austria once and Franz said to me: 'Carlos, you know what our problem is? We want the players we coach to do the same as us.' Then I started to understand."
But he still piles into Dunga and the modern Brazil, with their locked defence and counterattacking ethos. "I am not confident in this side, because our national team do not play Brazilian football," he says during a conversation to promote the 1GOAL educational campaign for Africa. "I'm talking about movement and use of the ball. We have good defenders, but the midfielders: if you ask Brazilian kids, who are our midfielders, they shrug their shoulders."
Brazil are likely to start their hunt for a sixth world title, against North Korea on Tuesday, with two defensive midfielders (Gilberto Silva and Felipe Melo) and probably only Kaká from the old school of elaboration. "They [Brazilian children] have to be told Felipe Melo is one of our central midfielders," Carlos Alberto says. "In front we have one: Kaká, but nobody knows about his physical condition.
"The coach has chosen this way to play, and the results are very good, but let's see what's going to happen. If you look behind [the results] you see that most of our goals start from dead balls. Free-kicks or corner kicks. This is why I say it's not Brazilian football."
Unlike England, who will not blame the omission of Theo Walcott if things go wrong, senior Brazilians will recite the names of those left behind should Brazil fail to extend their sweep of the continents. They have won World Cups in Europe, South America, North America and Asia, leaving only Africa and Australasia. There were few dissenters when Ronaldinho and Adriano were discarded but Dunga gambled against public opinion by not summoning the two young Santos hotshots: Neymar and Ganso, who are emblematic of Brazil's faith in youth.
Carlos Alberto says: "The whole country wanted him to call those two – Neymar and Ganso. Why? Because they are wonderful players and they are playing very well. This guy Ganso is the No1. But Dunga didn't call them. Ganso is 20 years old. He said he is too young, so I think Dunga lost the chance to recuperate the Brazilian tradition because the whole country was asking him to call those players. Good players. Ask anyone in football in Brazil and they will tell you this. If it goes well – OK. If it doesn't go well – you ask about the players who weren't there. Of course as Brazilians we should win the championship. Always we want to see the real Brazil, to play to our mystique. Spain are more adventurous than us."
Carlos Alberto's despair sounds cold but is warmly expressed, in the style of an ageing sage who worries about his country. He won 53 caps from 1964 to 1977 and was the marauding wing-back who completed a move that started in Brazil's own half in the 1970 final and reached its culmination with Jairzinho slipping the ball to Pelé, who waited for the right second to roll it into the path of the captain to crash the fourth goal home.
From those peaks it may seem inevitable that he should see inferiority.
"I'm afraid for this World Cup," he says. "It could be the worst World Cup, technically. I see good players: Cristiano Ronaldo, Rooney, Messi, Kaká: four players. Before, I've seen many good players going to the World Cup, but today? I have to go. I'll be there. But I'd like to stay home and watch it on TV. I'm not a pessimist but a realist."
To the romantic, Brazil in 1970 were a symphony of instinct and agility but their captain says important parts were choreographed. "For the first time in Brazil we played as a team. When we had the ball we were never afraid to go forward – but always together. The team always worked together, moving up, moving back, Tostão, Jairzinho, to avoid giving space to the opponent. We changed the mentality.
"Before that, Jairzinho and Pelé would go to a forward position and stay there. If they lost the ball they would talk to the opposition goalkeeper, then maybe come back. But under Mário Zagallo and João Saldanha we started to play as a team. In 1970 they prepared us very well. Not only physically but technically. For example in the [group] game against England we knew we had to win to be sure we would reach the final [they did, 1-0]. If we beat England we'd stay in Guadalajara. England would go to León to play Germany and go out.
"Every evening the whole group would be given read-outs on their physical condition. We were shown our performance levels. In 1966 in England, European football had surprised us because it was so physical. For 1970 we knew that to face the top European sides we must be fitter than them. Technically we knew we had an advantage, but physically we needed to be 100%. If you could have seen us train every day for three months. Nobody complained."
They have complained plenty, since, but only out of love for something precious.
