Notes

BRASILIA -- It's pretty straightforward. Don't screw up.

And, by that, we mean: win it all.

All 197 million Brazilians (OK, maybe a few million less; maybe those under 1 year old haven't yet been made privy to the national pain) know what happened in 1950. That was the last time Brazil hosted the World Cup, the time they steamrollered through the tournament into the final group of four. They beat Sweden 7-1, won 6-1 against Spain then had what looked to be a cakewalk against Uruguay, a match where a draw would have sufficed.

In front of an estimated 200,000 spectators at the Maracana -- the largest crowd ever assembled to watch a football match -- Brazil took the lead early in the second half. Then, stuck in some footballing twilight zone, they somehow capitulated, eventually letting the Jules Rimet Trophy slip from their grasp with 11 minutes to go, when Alcides Ghiggia capped one of the most stunning and unlikely comebacks imaginable to make it 2-1. La Celeste became world champion as the 200,000 at the Maracana fell into catatonic silence.

Since then, Brazil have won five World Cups. They became the biggest and best brand in the world game, the kind even nonfootball folk understand. Like the words "Jordan" or "All Blacks," they were the epitome not just of excellence but a certain type of gold standard.

Yet the demons of 1950 are still around.

Some will tell you they were exorcised in 1989, when the Selecao won the Copa America, the first time since 1950 they conquered a major trophy on home soil. As exorcisms go, it wasn't bad: same format (a final group), same stadium (Maracana, this time with a more manageable 148,068), same opponent (Uruguay), same situation (a draw would suffice). Romario even opened the scoring a few minutes into the second half, right around the same time that Friaca had scored 39 years earlier. The fans waited, fearful for a collapse that never came as Brazil won the Copa America.

But, deep down, they know it's not the real thing.

The Confederations Cup isn't the real thing either, but Saturday's clash with Japan is a step on the journey that will end a year and a month from now, one they hope will wipe out the memory of 1950 forever.

Luiz Felipe Scolari guided the Selecao to their last World Cup in 2002. But he knows, more than most, there is little margin for error. Gratitude is one thing, a World Cup final at the Maracana quite another.

History tells us that winning the Confederations Cup -- which Brazil did in 1997, 2005 and 2009 -- is no guarantee of anything. In fact, if you want to play the superstition card -- and Scolari occasionally does -- you can point to the fact that the last time Brazil won the World Cup they fell in the semis at the previous Confed.

But right now, the weight of history is a lot to bear. Brazil need a convincing showing. Two wins in seven games with Scolari at the helm going into this tournament simply isn't enough. He gets it. The early experiment with the old stars -- Kaka and Ronaldinho -- came and went. This is a hard-hat, blue-collar Brazil.

Look at his choices in midfield. Paulinho, 24, was so lowly regarded as a teenager that he went off to seek fortune in Lithuania and Poland, coming up short and returning via the back door of the lower divisions before establishing himself as a ball winner at Corinthians two years ago. Luiz Gustavo is a year older and a Treble winner with Bayern Munich, but at 20, he was a guy from the tiny state of Alagoas who was joining a second-division German club.

These are humble scrappers who clawed to get to where they are today. It's perhaps not a coincidence that the guy they're keeping on the bench, Hernanes, is their polar opposite. He was under the spotlight from a young age, won the Brazilian championship twice with Sao Paulo and has the much cooler nickname: "The Prophet." Yet, right now, he's preaching from the bench.

We've been here before. Think back to 2002, with the three centre-halves, Roque Junior (which sort of says it all), Kleberson and Gilberto Silva, in midfield. Indeed, Silva -- the guy who almost quit the game to work in a candy factory at age 21 (because it paid better) and five years later found himself starting a World Cup final -- was the ultimate Scolari player: overlooked, underappreciated, reliable and functional. He was the counterweight to Ronaldinho, the one who ensured the Selecao's pH remained balanced just the way Scolari liked it. Meanwhile, the likes of Denilson, Kaka and Vampeta watched from the bench.

Scolari has always taken a safety-first approach, but it's even more palpable this time around. One game at a time. Win the Confederations Cup and generate some enthusiasm and self-belief (and, crucially, hang on to your job). Then, when the big one comes around, keep taking it one baby step after the other. Concede nothing and live to fight another day. And when you eventually win it all, it will be more about relief than jubilation.

That's the burden of being Brazil 13 months ahead of your date with history and redemption.