Trauma is deceptive.

It convinces you that you are no longer good enough. It lingers long after the wounds have healed, whispering doubt into moments that once came naturally.

It does not care if you are Casemiro, with five UEFA Champions League medals to your name. It makes you question your legs. It does not spare Vinicius Junior, one of the world’s most electrifying wingers, or Alisson Becker, one of its finest goalkeepers. Even Neymar, arguably Brazil’s greatest player of his generation, has not escaped its shadow.

For Brazil, that trauma arrived on July 8, 2014.

The 7-1 humiliation against eventual champions Germany in the World Cup semi-final, on home soil, left scars that have proved remarkably difficult to erase.

Aside from lifting the 2019 Copa America, the Seleção have failed to win a major trophy since that night in Belo Horizonte, while successive World Cup exits in 2018 and 2022 deepened the feeling that something fundamental had broken.

The decline became more pronounced over the last three years.

Brazil stumbled through qualification for the 2026 World Cup, winning only eight of their 18 matches, losing six and drawing four to finish fifth in the South American standings. Three different head coaches attempted to steady the ship before the Brazilian Football Confederation (CBF) finally turned to Carlo Ancelotti in May last year.

The Realisation

Brazil had wanted Ancelotti much earlier, but the Italian first had to fulfil his contract with Real Madrid.

His eventual appointment followed a growing realisation within Brazilian football.

The Seleção were no longer the side of carefree virtuosos who could overwhelm opponents through talent alone. The players remained gifted, but they had become burdened by expectation. Every mistake was magnified. Every setback revived memories of 2014. Every World Cup became another opportunity to fail.

Brazil did not simply need a new coach. It needed to heal.

That was why, even before Ancelotti’s arrival, the CBF had appointed sports psychologist Marisa Santiago in 2024. Initially brought in as part of the federation’s long-term restructuring, her role became increasingly central once Ancelotti took charge.

The appointment reflected a shift in thinking as much as it did in personnel.

For decades, Brazil believed the answer to every footballing problem lay in the extraordinary talent it continued to produce.

From Pelé to Zico, Romário to Ronaldo, Ronaldinho to Kaká and Neymar, the country had rarely lacked footballers capable of deciding matches on their own.

What it lacked in recent years, however, was peace.

Specialising in cognitive behavioural therapy, Santiago had previously worked in volleyball before moving into football with Atlético Mineiro and Bahia. She became the first psychologist to form part of Brazil’s World Cup coaching staff.

Her job was disarmingly simple: help Brazil compete without fear.

Not diagnose disorders, not conduct therapy, but simply help elite footballers manage anxiety, pressure, leadership and the countless thoughts capable of interfering with performance when millions are watching.

It was a role that would become even more significant when Carlo Ancelotti finally arrived as head coach a year later.

Brazil had pursued the Italian long before his appointment, waiting patiently for him to complete his contract with Real Madrid. His arrival was expected to restore tactical order to a team that had drifted.

Instead, he first restored something less visible: calm.

Ancelotti has never been regarded as football’s greatest innovator. His greatest strength has always been his ability to understand people.

Rather than treating Santiago’s work as separate from football, he folded it into his own process.

The two speak daily. Santiago conducts individual sessions and group meetings while observing training from the edge of the pitch.

Families are encouraged to spend time with players after matches. The objective is not to eliminate pressure — an impossible task when coaching Brazil — but to prevent it from overwhelming performance.

“The team looked calmer, more focused and more serene in possession,” Ancelotti observed after Brazil’s victory over Haiti.

The players, too, have spoken openly about the transformation.

“It’s undeniable that this World Cup cycle has been very difficult for us players,” goalkeeper Alisson Becker said. “But since Ancelotti’s arrival, the atmosphere has been transformed. He gives us the peace of mind that comes from an environment focused on work.”

Captain Marquinhos believes the change runs even deeper.

“He changed our mindset,” he said. “He created a philosophy centred on wellbeing.”

Bruno Guimarães perhaps summed it up most succinctly.

“We are a generation that has often been greatly affected by criticism. The psychologist helped me balance the pressure.”

Believing Again

Perhaps nowhere has that transformation been more evident than in Brazil’s Round-of-32 victory over Japan.

When Kaishu Sano gave Japan the lead, old fears threatened to resurface.

Since 2023, Brazil had conceded first in 12 matches, losing seven and drawing four. Time and again, setbacks had spiralled into crises. Every concession seemed to carry echoes of Belo Horizonte.

Then came half-time.

The Brazil that emerged from the tunnel looked nothing like the anxious side that had ended the first half.

There was no desperation, no frantic attempts to force the game. Instead, there was patience.

Brazil monopolised possession, resisted Japan’s aggressive press and gradually imposed themselves on the contest.

Casemiro — criticised before the tournament for supposedly lacking the legs to compete at the highest level — equalised before Gabriel Martinelli struck a dramatic stoppage-time winner to send the Seleção into the quarter-finals.

The celebrations were wild. But beyond the emotion, something more significant had happened.

For perhaps the first time since 2014, Brazil had fallen behind on football’s biggest stage without emotionally collapsing.

The comeback suggested that the deepest change under Ancelotti may not be tactical at all. It may be psychological.

Tonight against Norway, another ghost awaits.

Brazil have not defeated a European nation in a World Cup knockout match since lifting the trophy against Germany in Yokohama in 2002. France, the Netherlands, Germany, Belgium and Croatia have each extended that unwanted sequence over the last two decades.

On paper, Norway are simply the next opponents.

In reality, they represent another opportunity for Brazil to confront a fear that has lingered for more than a decade.

Trauma rarely disappears overnight. It heals one experience at a time. One comeback, one victory, one restored belief replacing an old scar.

Whether Brazil eventually lift a sixth World Cup or not, this tournament may ultimately be remembered for something more fundamental.

Not as the one in which Carlo Ancelotti changed Brazil’s football, but as the one in which Santiago helped Brazil believe in themselves again.