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Carlo Ancelotti has restored belief, but can Brazil end 24-year World Cup drought?

From pilgrimages to the Azteca to renewed faith in Carlo Ancelotti, hope is back among Brazilian supporters. Yet the ghosts of past failures still loom over football's most decorated nation.

Since the last time they held the World Cup aloft, Brazil have reached the semifinal just once (AP Photo)

Written by: Sandip G

6 min readMexico CityJun 13, 2026 10:16 PM IST First published on: Jun 13, 2026 at 06:27 AM IST

A band of Brazil fans in their canary yellow shirts, their names printed on the back, were wading through a stream of Mexicans, before the World Cup’s opening game at the Azteca. Their transit in Mexico City from Sao Paulo, en route to Brazil’s first game in New Jersey, against Morocco, has a superstitious purpose. “Back home, we visit the church, attend the mass before we set out for something important. Azteca is a shrine for us Brazilians, it’s where we won our greatest World Cup (1970),” says Rafael, in his late 20s, and attending his first World Cup.

The World Cup drought, running 24 years, has turned Brazil’s fans fatalists, increasingly reading into the dots of destiny and accident of fate. Their previous longest wait for World Cup glory was 24 years too, and it ended on American soil too. The last time the tournament was co-hosted (by Japan and South Korea in 2002), they won it too. In 1970, they played with a front four; so have they during the reign of Carlo Ancelotti, the Italian resorted to bring the glory back to football’s spiritual home, after their worst ever qualifying campaign. He has resurrected belief and inspired faith, brought calm into a dressing room prone to volatility, but Brazil don’t arrive in New Jersey as tournament favourites. Rafael disagrees: “Whenever there is a World Cup, we are the first favourite. We are the greatest footballing nation.”

Brazil head coach Carlo Ancelotti arrives at Newark Liberty International Airport in Newark, N.J., Tuesday, June 2, 2026, as the team arrives ahead of the World Cup. (AP Photo/Seth Wenig)

History is indisputable, but the reality rebels. Since the last time they held the World Cup aloft, they have reached the semifinal once, and it’s a match the whole of Brazil believe never existed (the 7-1 thrashing at the hands of Germany). They have lagged behind European teams in organisation and structure; they have frozen in clutch moments and the burden of being the most successful team has weighed them; they have faced acute shortages in departments that were once superfluous with riches. “Where have all the full-backs gone?” fumed Roberto Carlos, he of thunderous free-kicks and a stellar left-back, in Rai Television. It is customary to blame the lure of European club football, for which Brazil is the highest exporter of talent, but the malaise runs deeper, and Brazil 2026 is a side riddled with imperfections.

Ancelotti had to hail his full backs from as distant corners as Moscow and Riyadh, besides mining the local leagues. The most accomplished one, AS Roma’s Wesley, pulled a muscle during the 2-1 scrape over Egypt in a friendly and was ruled out. Ancelotti’s replacement was Ederson, a midfielder. He could be forced to repurpose a centre-back into a full-back—Ancelotti is a master at convincing his men to play out of position and coaxing success—but the move could dishevel the team’s balance. But Carlos’s criticism didn’t stop here: “Has there been a good No 9 since Ronaldo? We are losing our tradition, our essence and beauty.”

But the 1994 band of Carlos Alberto Parreira did not enthral the purists and was on the pragmatic side; the 2002 batch was not a radically attacking one either. Parreira had a sturdy backline and an exemplary front-two in Bebeto and Romario; in 2002, the trio of Ronaldo, Ronaldinho and Rivaldo sizzled, but they didn’t blow adversaries away, but relied on bursts of individual magic and madness and robust defensive midfielders. Ancelotti’s brigade has individuals who could define games.

Feared Four

Brazil’s attacking richers prompted Ancelotti to adopt a front-four system, a ploy he had seldom commissioned in his club odyssey. (AP Photo)

The front-four of Vinicius Junior, Raphinha, Matheus Cunha and Gabriel Martinelli, when in sync, is a throwback firm that can skin defences in different ways. They can swap roles and positions, create as well as score, press aggressively and dig in trenchantly. Neymar, when fully fit, can sprinkle the magic dust from the bench. Brazil’s attacking riches are so deep that they could afford injuries to Rodrygo, Endrick and Estêvão and still exude menace. It prompted Ancelotti to adopt the front-four system, a ploy he had seldom commissioned in his club odyssey. “Considering the players we have at our disposal, we believe the best model of play for us is to go with four up front,” Ancelotti would say.

Neymar gives a thumbs up as he disembarks at Newark Liberty International Airport in Newark, N.J., Tuesday, June 2, 2026, as the Brazil arrive ahead of the World Cup. (AP Photo)

The formation has legends like Ronaldo excited, and the army of supporters descending in the United States has brightened up goalkeeper Allison Becker. “We have the best fans in the world,” he said, after thousands flocked to the team’s training base in New Jersey’s Morris Township, where they trained at the Columbia Park Training Facility. New York has an estimated Brazilian population of 70,000, most living in two streets in Midtown Manhattan; it has a Pele store and a house that he sold just before his death. Neighbouring Boston, which has the oldest Brazilian settlement in the country, has roughly 65,000 of Brazilian descent; Miami has around 65,000. Their group-stage games are suitably located—the opener in New Jersey, the second in Philadelphia, 90 minutes from New York, and Miami. Proximity to the US has flights from Rio and Sao Paulo packed (and the rates are thrice-fold the normal). “We will turn every city yellow,” Rafael says.

But the passionate fans, the unmatched pedigree and the narrative of Brazil as the ultimate proponents of beautiful football, an elusive concept in itself, has hung on their neck like unbearable millstones, bred an incurable fear of failure. Ancelotti’s arrival, from a different culture, was timely, in that he lends an outsider’s perspective. But even he would have realised the burden of being a Brazilian footballer going into the World Cup. Another disaster—which equates to not winning the World Cup—would condemn a grand footballing culture into a full-blown crisis. Their fans have already turned fatalists.