IT IS NOT EVEN LUNCHTIME YET AND the greatest player in the history of Portuguese football is upset. Eusebio swirls his Scotch on the rocks, leans back, takes a deep breath and widens his eyes, a là Muhammad Ali.

This is the moment when he comes to life, as feline and sharp as when he won the European Footballer of the Year Award in 1965. What sets him off is a mention of the 1966 World Cup when, 20 years before Diego Maradona in Mexico, he nearly single-handedly turned Portugal into champions of the world.

“We were a small, poor country and we showed the world we deserved to win,” he says, eyes shiny, voice firm. “We had won our first four games of the competition, beating countries like Brazil and Hungary and we were in the semi-finals against England. And that’s when we had a problem. We were supposed to play in Liverpool, at Goodison Park, but England decided they wanted to switch the game to Wembley. They asked Fifa to change the venue in mid-competition. Fifa did a deal with them and we were forced to take the train down to London, just before the game.” Eusebio pauses to take a deep breath. His dark eyes glisten, his jaw sets.

“This was terrible,” he says, descending to a whisper. “We had prepared to play in Liverpool, the sudden change forced us to scrap all our training plans. I looked up to God in heaven and screamed at the top of my lungs: ‘What have we done to deserve this?’ There was no reply. I knew the answer. We were poor and small. England was rich and powerful and they were the host nation. And then I cried. I cried for a long time. Had we played in Liverpool, like we were supposed to, we would have won that game and reached the final. There is no question about it.”

As it happened, England beat Portugal 2-1, in front of 95,000 fans and, four days later, triumphed in extra time over Germany, winning the World Cup amid further controversy.

Aged 62, Eusebio is on the “Retired Legends” circuit of former footballers, being photographed at galas and openings, playing the loveable uncle figure to today’s stars. On this day, MasterCard have invited him to share his views on football and Euro 2004, something he does with poise and measure. Bring up 1966, however, and the dignified diplomacy of being an institution goes out the window.

England’s greatest footballing moment conjures up painful memories of injustice in Portugal. But that’s football: while events such as the World Cup provide fans with a common history, the way those very same events are remembered can differ greatly from country to country.

In a sort of Rashomon effect (the Akira Kurosawa film), where each participant has different recollections, we view the past through our own lenses. That is why, while to most Englishmen, terms like “Wembley” and “1966” evoke triumphant images of fresh-faced young footballers holding up the Jules Rimet trophy, it is a different story in, say, Germany, where the expression “Wembley goal” is used liberally to signify any unfairly awarded goal.

Eusebio was one of the first footballers to marry strength and athleticism with skill and technique. Tall, quick and broad-shouldered, he was the precursor of the modern player, for whom athletic prowess is just as essential as ability on the ball.

“You can’t compare my era with today’s game,” he says. “I never did a single specific exercise to improve my strength or my conditioning, yet I was stronger and fitter than most. It just came naturally to me and I improved it on the pitch, by playing the game. Today, you have to be an athlete first. If you also have the skill to play, that’s a bonus. I could do both, but I was the exception.” Eusebio played at a time when the game was global, but, for much of the world, segregated. Just as his contemporary, Pelé, was barred from joining a side outside of Brazil for much of his career, he, too, was treated as a natural treasure, one which could not be exported.

“Today players come and go as they wish and this is right, because everyone benefits,” he says. “I am not jealous of (Luis) Figo or Rui Costa, who are able to play for Real Madrid or (AC) Milan, earn millions and win trophies. We must remember that today’s players have that opportunity because the world has changed and Portugal is now a democracy.” In Eusebio’s time, Portugal was governed by the military dictatorship of Antonio Salazar, who vetoed any move abroad from Benfica.

“Juventus came for me when I was 19,” he says, with noticeable bitterness. “After the World Cup, Inter made a big offer, one which would have made me the highest-paid player in the world. And yet I was not allowed to move. Why? Salazar was not my father and he certainly was not my mother. What gave him the right? The truth was that he was my slavemaster, just as he was the slavemaster of the entire country.”

Eusebio prefers to “father” today’s players, the way a national icon is supposed to do. He has two sets of golden generations: that of Figo, Rui Costa, Vitor Baia and Fernando Couto, for whom Euro 2004 could be a swansong, and the fledgling group of Cristiano Ronaldo, Ricardo Quaresma and Hugo Viana.

“We are caught in the middle,” he says. “For the Figos and Rui Costas, it’s their last chance to make history. For the kids, it’s an opportunity to launch their international careers on the right foot. How well we integrate the two generations will determine how well we do. It may be too early for the likes of Cristiano Ronaldo. Still, we are the host nation, we’ll have the fan support, everything is geared to our advantage.” Rather like England in 1966 . . .

“Yes,” he says, this time with a mischievous smile. “And if we play them again, it will be different. We are still small, but we are no longer poor.”

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