The Impossible Task of Pinning Down the O Rei Endorsement
Pelé was never a man of few words, yet when the topic shifted to his peers, his logic took on a specific, almost architectural quality. People don't think about this enough, but Pelé viewed football as a structural discipline where the "best" had to command every blade of grass, not just the highlights reel. He hated the idea that a player could be considered the greatest if they only possessed one foot or lacked aerial prowess. Because of this rigid criteria, his "favourite" was often a moving target that depended entirely on whether he was discussing pure talent, leadership, or longevity. One day it was Romário; the next, it was Cristiano Ronaldo's professional discipline. Yet, despite this fluidity, a few names acted as permanent fixtures in his internal Hall of Fame. The thing is, Pelé wasn't just a spectator; he was a gatekeeper of a very specific Brazilian brand of excellence that demanded both flair and functionality.
The Shadow of Alfredo Di Stéfano
Where it gets tricky is when we look at the pre-Maradona era, specifically the towering presence of Real Madrid's Blond Arrow. Pelé repeatedly went on record—most notably during a 2014 trip to Madrid—stating that Alfredo Di Stéfano was the most complete player to ever grace the pitch. Why? Because Di Stéfano didn't just score; he defended, organized the midfield, and dictated the tempo of the European Cup finals between 1956 and 1960. Pelé saw a reflection of his own multi-dimensional game in the Argentine-Spanish legend. It wasn't just about the 308 goals Di Stéfano scored for Los Blancos, but the way he carried the entire tactical weight of the team on his shoulders. But did this admiration hold firm as the game shifted toward the modern, hyper-athletic era? Honestly, it's unclear, as the King was also a master of diplomacy, often tailoring his compliments to the city he happened to be visiting that week.
The Evolution of a Legend's Tactical Preference
Football changed, and so did Pelé's lens. The 1970s brought the Total Football of the Dutch, which fundamentally challenged the individualist Brazilian style he championed. Yet, Pelé remained obsessed with the "complete" archetype. He looked for players who could survive the physical brutality of the 1966 World Cup while maintaining the grace of a ballet dancer. This led him to admire those who survived the meat-grinder of European leagues. It is fascinating to observe how his definitions of greatness morphed from the technical purity of the 1950s to the tactical intelligence required in the late 20th century. We are far from a consensus on his final "vote," but his commentary suggests he valued the ability to change a game's outcome single-handedly above all else. Individual agency within a collective system was his ultimate benchmark.
The Cruyff Connection and the European Shift
Johan Cruyff represents a strange outlier in Pelé's list of favorites. While he respected the Dutchman's "Pythagoras in boots" intellect, Pelé often felt Cruyff lacked the raw, street-bred finishing that defined the South American greats. There was a subtle irony in Pelé’s praise for Europeans; he would laud their discipline while quietly implying they lacked the "ginga" or soul found in the favelas of Santos. But he couldn't ignore the three Ballon d'Or awards Cruyff collected. The issue remains that Pelé’s favorite wasn’t necessarily the one he thought was "best" in a vacuum, but the one who most closely mimicked the joy he felt when he was 17 years old in Sweden. He looked for that spark of 1958 in every player he watched for the next sixty years.
The Modern Era and the Messi-Ronaldo Dichotomy
In his later years, the King found himself trapped in the relentless comparison between Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo. This is where his public stance became truly fascinating—and occasionally contradictory. For a long stretch, Pelé leaned toward Ronaldo, citing the Portuguese forward's scoring consistency and physical dominance as the gold standard. He saw a professional who, like himself, treated his body as a temple. But then, the tide would turn. He would watch a Barcelona match and see Messi's low center of gravity and impossible dribbling, and suddenly the "favourite" tag would migrate back across the Rio de la Plata to Argentina. Which explains why his interviews from 2015 to 2020 are a dizzying array of shifting allegiances. One moment he’s praising the 800-plus career goals of CR7; the next, he's admitting that if he had to play with one of them, it would be Messi because of the playmaker's vision.
The Neymar Factor and National Pride
And then there is the emotional weight of Neymar Jr. As the heir to the Number 10 shirt at Santos FC, Neymar occupied a special, almost paternal corner of Pelé's heart. But this was a complicated love. Pelé was often Neymar’s harshest critic, publicly lambasting his penchant for diving and theatricality during the 2018 World Cup. Yet, he desperately wanted Neymar to be his favorite because it would validate the continued supremacy of Brazilian football. That changes everything when you realize Pelé wasn't just an observer; he was a stakeholder in the legend of the Jogo Bonito. He criticized Neymar because he saw a talent that was occasionally distracted by the trappings of modern celebrity—something the King, despite his own global fame, always tried to secondary to the pitch. As a result: the "favourite" label for Neymar was always conditional on the young star winning a sixth star for the Seleção.
Beyond the Stats: The Unconventional Candidates
Experts disagree on whether Pelé actually preferred the obscure masters of his own youth to the televised icons of today. He often spoke in hushed tones about Zizinho, the idol of his own childhood, who dominated the 1950 World Cup before the tragedy of the Maracanazo. To Pelé, Zizinho was the blueprint. Imagine being the greatest of all time and still looking up to a man who didn't even win the trophy. This nuance is vital. It suggests that his "favourite" player was a ghost from a black-and-white era, a player whose greatness wasn't measured in Instagram followers or xG statistics but in the way a stadium felt when he touched the ball. In short, the answer to who was Pelé's favourite player is likely buried in the dirt of a 1940s training ground in Bauru, far away from the bright lights of the modern Champions League.
The Case for Garrincha
If we talk about pure joy, we have to talk about Garrincha, the "Angel with Bent Legs." They never lost a match when playing together for Brazil—a staggering 40-game streak of invincibility. Pelé loved Mané, but he also pitied him. Garrincha was the people's favourite, the one who played for the laugh and the dribble, whereas Pelé played for the history books and the win. This fundamental difference in philosophy meant that while Garrincha might have been his favourite partner, he wasn't necessarily his favourite "player" in terms of technical evaluation. Pelé’s favorites always had to have a streak of the assassin in them. Garrincha was too much of a clown for Pelé’s serious, monarchical view of the sport. Yet, the chemistry they shared in 1958 and 1962 remains the pinnacle of strike partnerships, a duo that redefined what was possible with a leather ball and a dream.
The labyrinth of public perception and the "Pele's favourite player" controversy
The problem is that memory is a treacherous, plastic thing that bends toward the latest headline. Most fans assume O Rei changed his mind as frequently as a politician during election season because he was famously generous with his praise. Let's be clear: Pelé never actually crowned a single successor in a way that invalidated his lifelong devotions. We often see social media snippets of him hugging Cristiano Ronaldo or Lionel Messi, leading the digital masses to scream that the debate is settled forever. It is not. People conflate a polite compliment given during a FIFA gala with a deep-seated tactical or emotional preference. The issue remains that his public persona was designed to be an ambassador, which meant he rarely wanted to offend the current crop of multi-million dollar icons.
The fallacy of the "Next Pelé" label
Because the media loves a tidy narrative, they slapped the "favourite" label on anyone Pelé dubbed his heir. Robinho suffered this curse in 2002 when the King suggested the boy had inherited his crown at Santos. But was he actually Pelé's favourite player in terms of aesthetic joy? Hardly. In truth, Pelé viewed these younger stars through a lens of professional legacy rather than personal fandom. Neymar Jr. often occupied this strange space. He was the prodigal son of Vila Belmiro, yet Pelé frequently criticized his diving and hair-styling choices in the press. It was a tough-love relationship. Which explains why looking at contemporary quotes is often a fool's errand for anyone seeking the objective truth of his heart.
Confusing respect with adoration
Did you know that Pelé once claimed he would have loved to play alongside Zinedine Zidane more than almost any other modern playmaker? This is frequently cited as proof of a "favourite" status, except that Pelé valued the 1998 World Cup winner for his cerebral control, not necessarily for being his personal idol. There is a massive distinction between a peer you respect and the artist who makes you jump out of your seat. As a result: we must stop treating every "he is the best today" quote as a permanent ranking. The three-time World Cup winner was a master of the soundbite. He knew exactly what the journalists wanted to hear, but his private allegiances to the 1950s and 60s greats remained largely unshaken despite the shiny allure of modern Champions League statistics.
A clandestine masterclass: The George Best enigma
The issue remains that we overlook the sheer audacity of Pelé’s 1966 admission regarding a certain Northern Irishman. It is a little-known nuance that Pelé reportedly sent a signed jersey to George Best with a message calling him the greatest in the world. (A gesture Best cherished until his final days). This wasn't a PR stunt. It was a recognition of a shared "holy madness" on the pitch. Pelé saw in Best a version of himself that was allowed to be untethered by the rigid discipline of the Brazilian national team structure. Manchester United fans still dine out on this anecdote, and they are right to do so. It reveals a Pelé who valued individual dribbling wizardry over the mechanical efficiency of the modern era. If you want to understand the King, you have to understand his fascination with those who played the game like a reckless jazz solo.
The tactical obsession with Di Stéfano
Yet, if we pivot to the realm of pure footballing intelligence, Alfredo Di Stéfano is the name that surfaced most consistently in Pelé’s most candid moments. He frequently argued that the "Blond Arrow" was more complete than Maradona or Messi. Why? Because Di Stéfano defended, orchestrated, and scored with equal ferocity. Pelé wasn't just a goal-scorer; he was a student of the total footballer archetype. He saw Di Stéfano as the blueprint. While the world argued about 10s, Pelé was busy admiring the man who could play 4, 8, and 9 simultaneously. This isn't just nostalgia talking. It is a specific technical preference for versatility and stamina that modern specialists simply cannot replicate in the same holistic fashion.
Frequently Asked Questions
Did Pelé ever officially name Lionel Messi as his favorite?
Pelé was notoriously oscillating in the Messi versus Ronaldo debate for over a decade. In 2020, he famously told YouTube channel Pilhado that Cristiano Ronaldo was the most consistent, yet he frequently pivoted to Messi for "sheer talent" in other interviews. Data from his final years suggests he viewed Messi as the most skillful contemporary, but he rarely used the word "favourite" without caveats about the era. He once noted that Messi has scored over 800 career goals, a feat Pelé respected immensely given his own contested 1,283 goal tally. Ultimately, his praise for the Argentine was high, but it lacked the soulful connection he held for his 1958 and 1970 teammates.
Who did Pelé consider the best defender he ever faced?
The answer to this is remarkably consistent across fifty years of interviews: Bobby Moore. After the legendary 1970 World Cup clash in Guadalajara, where England lost 1-0 to Brazil, the two icons famously swapped shirts in an image that defined sportsmanship. Pelé described Moore as a "gentleman" who never needed to foul to win the ball. Moore earned 108 caps for England and was the only captain to lift the Jules Rimet trophy for the Three Lions. Pelé’s admiration for Moore was rooted in the Englishman’s impeccable positioning and anticipatory intelligence, which Pelé found more challenging than the physical brutality of Italian or South American defenders.
What was Pelé’s opinion on Diego Maradona’s playing style?
Their relationship was a complex tapestry of mutual ego and deep-seated professional love. Despite their public bickering over who was the greatest of all time, Pelé often admitted that Diego Maradona was a genius who defied the laws of physics. He was particularly enamoured with Maradona's ability to carry a mediocre Napoli side to two Serie A titles in 1987 and 1990. While Pelé might not have called him his "favourite" due to their rivalry, he acknowledged that Maradona’s left foot was a gift from the gods. After Maradona's passing in 2020, Pelé wrote that he hoped they would "play soccer together in the sky," a sentiment that transcended any petty ranking or preference.
The definitive verdict on the King's heart
Let’s stop pretending that a man who reached the summit of 1970 could ever truly prefer a modern superstar over his own brothers in arms. My stance is firm: Garrincha was the only player Pelé truly loved watching with the unbridled joy of a fan. While he respected the 90% pass accuracy of modern midfielders or the ballistic power of a Mbappe strike, the "Angel with Bent Legs" represented the soul of Brazilian football that Pelé helped globalize. We can analyze the 77 goals Pelé scored for the Seleção or the endless list of legends he complimented, but his heart remained in the dust of the 1950s. But perhaps that is the limit of our understanding; we want a clear answer where only a complex web of historical loyalty exists. In short, Pelé didn't have one favorite because he was too busy being the benchmark for everyone else. He was the sun, and everyone else was just a planet reflecting his light.