I was born in South Africa in December 1958. My father was from Thessaloniki and immigrated first to Brazil and then to Johannesburg. There he met my mother, who was born in Istanbul and at the age of 19 was sent as a consul to South Africa – not with my father.

In the summer of 1961, my father brought me to Athens to introduce me to his parents, who lived in P. Faliro. A few days later he left me with my grandparents and went to Istanbul, where my mother’s parents lived.

One morning my grandparents took me for a swim at Eden Beach. I loved the sea and kicked the ball, and that’s what I was doing when I suddenly saw a group of black people sitting in front of me on the beach. Living in South Africa, my first reaction was to run to them. One of the group picked me up and someone else took a picture of us.

When my father returned from Istanbul, his grandparents told him this story, noting that “this son of yours hangs out with black people all the time.” We had no idea who these black people I met on the beach at the age of two and a half were.

A year later, when we were back in Johannesburg, a book appeared in the city’s Greek bookstore called Golden Feet, featuring all the great football players of the time, Greek and foreign. Leafing through it, a bookseller, a friend of my father, suddenly sees my photo in the arms of Pele!

He immediately notified my father and told him: “Your son is in Golden Legs!”. As soon as he saw the photo, he immediately realized who the black man with whom I “hung out” on that P. Faliros beach was. Living in Brazil, he knew very well who Pele was, who then came to Greece with Santos, for friendly matches with AEK, Olympiakos and Panathinaikos.

The scrapbook has become a family heirloom and the story a family legend.

In 1996, when we were already living in Athens, I heard that Pele was coming to give a press conference at M. Britain” as a representative of Mastercard. I decided to go find him and show him the legendary photo. At ‘M. Britannia’ there was a crowd and heavy security, so I couldn’t even get close to the building. I held the scrapbook, my finger on the photo page so I didn’t have to look at the last minute, and although I explained to various The guards, whatever I want, they didn’t let me in. But at some point I managed to find a gap, and I entered the hotel lobby, and I stood quietly in the corner, and suddenly I hear “he’s going down, he’s going down!”. The whole crowd moved to the elevators to see Pele, but he came out from the opposite side and went to the interview room.

Now or never, I thought, and ran towards him like crazy. “Give me five minutes,” I said, and showed him the photo. I’m sure he didn’t remember her, but he smiled so I told him to take another shot. I put my arm around his shoulders and handed the camera to one of those who began to gather around us, and this is how my second photo with Pele turned out.

Then one of the guards who didn’t let me pass earlier came over and I smiled at him happily. “I told you that I know Pele, but you did not believe me. Did you see where I spoke the truth?”

Farewell to the “King”

Long live the “king of football” Pele, says world sport today. The legend of the ball, who died last Thursday at the age of 82, will be buried at the Memorial Necropole Ecumenica cemetery in the presence of only members of his family. Since yesterday, thousands of Brazilians have paid their respects to Pele, whose body is on display in a popular pilgrimage to Santos’ Vila Belmiro Stadium, where he worked. Dozens of wreaths, sent by football personalities, were laid around the coffin, hidden under a large white awning. “We will ask 211 members of FIFA to name the stadium after Pele, so that in 30, 40, 50 years everyone will still know about its significance. Pele is eternal,” said FIFA President Gianni Infantino, who was present with Neymar.