By Ian Smith
“Emerson does the Samba!!”
There comes a time every now and again when I give Boro’s 1997 FA Cup Final track a listen (whatever happened to them?), and following Bob Mortimer’s hilarious non-story on Would I Lie To You? involving him, Chris Rea and a bath, I was prompted to hammer ‘Let’s Dance’ into the YouTube search bar once more.
The pure unbridled joy in Ali Brownlee’s voice as he yells those aforementioned words never fails to raise a smile, a moment of private nostalgia in my head taking me back to a time of Boro/Brazil crossover shirts, Samba bands, afro wigs, Brazilian flags and just all round excitement.
In the years that have passed we have often eulogised over those cup runs, the impact Juninho had and the divisive nature of Fab Rav’s time on Teesside. However, perhaps celebrated less so (although celebrated nonetheless) is a midfield powerhouse who, but for a proclivity for dancefloor action and a questionable attendance record, might have gone on to be a Club legend.
Encapsulation
Emerson Moises Costa arrived at Boro in the midst of one of the most exciting times the Club has ever experienced. Following in the footsteps of fellow countrymen Juninho and Branco, ‘Emo’ was convinced to join the seemingly everlasting ‘Robbo Revolution’ as he signed for around £4.5m from Porto.
Having played under Bobby Robson in Portugal, it’s hard to imagine his namesake Bryan hadn’t leaned on his old England boss for the inside track on the Brazilian. As Bobby left for Barcelona Bryan pounced, using his incredibly influential name to snare one of Europe’s hottest properties, a player who only a few months into his time with Boro was to be the subject of a big bid from a Spanish giant.
Such was the impact Emerson had in his early days that his star was one that would burn bright yet also suffer its fair share of flickers as the 96/97 season progressed. He was the absolute encapsulation of that campaign; fun, madcap, frustrating, thrilling to watch but ultimately anti-climactic.
Even though the season offered so much promise, much like Emerson, it failed to fully deliver on such potential. Not that we didn’t have fun along the way, of course.
Right from the moment he stepped onto the pitch in a Boro shirt for the very first time, Emerson oozed class. His larger than life character shone, as well as his man mountain physique. Players appeared to bounce off him, the ball would be sucked towards him and then stick to his feet, and for a stocky bloke he had a decent turn of pace.
Watching those flowing locks flap around as he bombed about, patrolling the midfield with menace and relative ease, he looked every inch the world class midfielder. Throw into the mix a hammer of a right foot, one that threatened to rip the net of whatever goal he unleashed his latest venomous strike into, what you had was almost the complete footballer in his position.
Whether it was West Ham, his first goal for the club, Hereford, Sunderland or Chesterfield, everyone has their favourite Emerson howitzer, and I’m no different.
For me it was his effort against The Spireites in the FA Cup Semi Final replay at Hillsborough. Not hit anywhere near as cleanly or as powerfully as some of his other efforts, all the same it was a strike of the highest quality.
As the ball is played back to him on the edge of the penalty area (where else?), he proceeds to cut across the moving ball with the outside of his right boot, the ball curling ever so satisfyingly to the ‘keepers far left. As the net swelled at the ball’s impact, he wheeled away with pure joy, the face of a man who just genuinely enjoyed his football. Of course, he also found to time to showcase his trademark Samba celebration, his expressions of footballing ecstasy being just as colourful as the nation he represented.
Every goal, every barnstorming run, every opposition midfielder bamboozled and bullied only served to frustrate however, as these obvious qualities were often tempered by dips in form and most notably – unauthorised absences, or AWOL for the lovers of a good old fashioned acronym.
Selfish streak
Whether it was rumours of failing to settle (something that almost seemed expected given how far removed Teesside was from what he would normally be accustomed to), with his wife finding the prospect of living in Middlesbrough rather depressing, his love for partying or the possibility his head had been turned by outside interest, Emerson would miss games through nothing other than sheer unprofessionalism.
His previous manager at Porto, Bobby Robson – now at the Camp Nou with the Catalan giants, came calling. Alleged to have demanded his bosses to “get me Emerson”, the understandable lure of one of the biggest clubs in the world would’ve surely been hard to ignore. That being said, the interest came so early on in his time with Boro that the idea of him already being prepared to leave provided a glimpse of the sort of character they had on their hands.
Loveable though he was, he had a selfish streak running through him.
Whilst he may have stayed on for the entirety of the 96/97 season, talk of his refusal to return to Boro in the close season leading up to the campaign back in the old Division One surfaced, holding out for a move that would never come.
Remarkably, and it’s something that never fails to surprise me to this day, is that of all the personalities, talents and egos that flew around Boro throughout that topsy turvy period, it was Emerson who would be the one to remain (although given the above, one suspects it wasn’t through choice).
And while he eventually got his move, to Spanish club Tenerife in a £4.25m deal in the second half of the season, he still managed to make enough of an impact for it live long in the memory.
Ridiculous as it was for someone of his quality to be playing at second tier level, it was no less a joy to see him quite literally be head and shoulders above all those around him. Yet, it was tinged with a little sadness as this was a player who only a year earlier had been courted by Barcelona, and now here he was playing against the likes of Huddersfield.
Although it was against the Terriers that we finally got to see an almost Emerson-lite appear, the cousin – Fabio.
Many suspected he was only around to keep Emerson happy, he actually played a number of reserve games before finally making his full league debut. And though it was a decent enough bow, one would probably agree that years of myth and legend have likely romanticised his one and only appearance, adding bits to stories given who he was and the short-term nature of his time in the limelight.
But it was pure intrigue, pure bonkers, pure Emerson.
“I made a mistake”
As he hammered home his obligatory away goal against Sunderland, this time at the newly opened Stadium of Light, there was a small glimmer of hope that this was a man who might well just end up doing the unthinkable and stay on. However, it wasn’t to be as we know, but in the time passed since then there’s actually an admission from the man himself that he possibly should’ve stuck it out.
Acknowledging fault for some of his indiscretions on Teesside he said;
“I did cause problems for the club but I was young and it is different now (speaking in 2002 when at Atletico Madrid)”.
“I was shocked when they got rid of me, but I realise I gave them no choice”.
“I made a mistake and should’ve stayed”.
Easy to say after the event, but not hard to believe in some ways as here was a man, who even though he may have disappeared from time to time, frustrating club and fans, he looked to be someone who genuinely enjoyed pulling on the red of Middlesbrough Football Club.
There will always be a case of ‘what if’ with Emerson, as a quick look at his list of clubs after Boro shows what appears to be a journeyman like existence. He even made a Boro return in the UEFA Cup with Skoda Xanthi, but he was still only 33-yrs-old at this point, and you have to feel that had he fulfilled his obvious promise then he’d have been dominating the midfields of the big leagues well into his 30’s.
And whilst that wasn’t to be, despite all the drama, the bouts of unprofessionalism and actual disappearing acts, we can at least be thankful that for some part we got to witness one of the best midfielders in the world at the time, playing at the top of his game for our club.
I’m off to do “the Samba down Wembley away again” – well, in my head anyway.
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