The magnetism, the power and the glory of Porto’s number 2 shirt | OneFootball

There is something about the emotional power of a football shirt. The texture, the colours. The crest. The numbers. Football numbers represent more than you may think. Since the day they were first sewn onto old classic shirts, in a sense, they became part of football mythology. They represented so many different things, from a tactical position on the pitch to the emotional nature of a footballer.

Over time, they also became symbols of something more, something deeply ingrained in the hearts and souls of supporters. As important as anything else. Clubs have understood it, embraced it, and even marketed it. But what truly made them great were men. Men who represented more than just the ordinary footballer, who had the club’s ethos running through their veins.

Think of what George Best did for Manchester United, he who played dozens of matches with many different numbers on his back, making that iconic seven an emotional refuge for the Red Devils. Or what that same number means in Madrid, ever since the days of the talented and emotional Juanito. What Maradona did for the number 10 in Argentine football, or Paolo Maldini for the number 3 in Italy.

When you think of Portuguese football, if there is a number that resonates immediately is FC Porto’s number 2. A legacy that mixes the golden age of the Dragons with the blunt and emotional, larger-than-life character of two men who came to be the blue and white of the club’s shirt.

The precursor to the icons

Gabriel drove a taxi through the city of Porto for years after he hung up his boots. Everyone who stepped into his cab seemed surprised to recognise the iconic right-back of that emotional side that broke 19 years of hurt. When José Maria Pedroto returned to the old Antas ground, he immediately identified Gabriel as his preferred right-back, and he was a solid presence over the following years, as Porto rediscovered the taste of champagne after back-to-back league wins.

He, like all right-backs from the club before him since the 1940s, when football numbers started to be used in Portuguese football, wore the number 2, and it didn’t mean anything other than the shirt of the guy who had to prevent the opposition left-winger from causing mayhem, while supporting the attack, whenever he could. He even occasionally wore the armband. Gabriel was one of many and, in a way, became the last of a long lineage.

On October 30th, 1982, José Maria Pedroto, who had returned to the club after two years in exile, decided that a young teenager by the name of João Pinto should be picked instead to play as right-back. It wasn’t Pinto’s debut. Funnily enough, although many aren’t aware of it, João Pinto had started his career in the first team as a right winger and even played the occasional match as left-back. He was just one of many promising players from the youth setup to make the ranks in those troubled times, and nobody had yet realised how important he would be in the history of the club.

Pinto makes the position his own

Pedroto was the first to see in him the ability to perform like no other in the right-back position. That afternoon, in front of forty thousand supporters, as Porto welcomed Estoril for the eighth round of the league, he was one of the lucky ones to witness Fernando Gomes netting five goals on course to winning the European Golden Shoe. Pinto’s impact was positive but not straightforward. During that same season, which saw Porto finish second behind Sven-Goren Erikson Benfica’s, both Gabriel and Teixeira, two hardened veterans, were still considered for the job. And, by extension, for the number 2 shirt. It was a couple of class performances against Sporting and Benfica – especially how he dealt with the exciting left-winger Fernando Chalana – which helped raise his profile in the eyes of the supporters and that guaranteed his starting place for the rest of the season. It lasted for fifteen years.

On June 15th, 1997, the iconic defender played his last official match for the Dragons, a win against Gil Vicente on the same afternoon the club celebrated with their supporters their first ever three consecutive league wins. That sunny afternoon was also the last time Jorge Costa, the towering centre-back, played with the number 22 on his back. He would inherit the number 2 for the following season, wearing it until 2006, when he was forced to leave the recently inaugurated Dragão stadium to finish his career playing in Belgium.

Twenty-five years of glory

Almost a quarter of a century had gone by, and that same number 2 shirt had only been worn by two men. Two club captains. Two defenders. Two icons. No club in Portugal enjoyed such a long dynasty of commitment, emotion, and talent. That those twenty-five years also coincided with the club’s golden era helped to create a myth around a number that, for most supporters from other clubs, means absolutely nothing.

João Pinto – the making of a cult hero

Sometimes timing is everything. Had João Pinto been a left-back, we would now be discussing something about the mystique around the number 3. Only, he wasn’t. What he also wasn’t was just an ordinary player. On the pitch, João Pinto was a non-nonsense defender, one who wasn’t afraid of tackling even the trickiest of opponents. Football in the 1980s allowed that, as referees were much more lenient towards hard tacklers than they would become. That allowed him to be himself, a player who was comfortable on the ball and could swing over precise crosses – that is why Herman Stessl, the coach who gave him his first-team debut, originally had him as a winger – but he was most famed for his runs down the wing and his non-compromising attitude. And that was what truly made him one of a kind.

There was no obstacle he couldn’t overcome, no issue he couldn’t handle. He famously played with a broken toe by making a cut on his boot and painting his white sock black so that the referee wouldn’t notice. He bled for the club, sweated for the club and never asked for anything in return. Porto had had talented team captains before – the likes of Pavão, António Oliveira and Fernando Gomes, for instance – and also hardened men like Rodolfo Reis or Custódio Pinto. What João Pinto brought in differently was his defiance. He knew he wasn’t the best in the world at what he did, but he didn’t care. He was all for the team.

That collectiveness spirit that Pedroto managed to install in the Dragons’ dressing room was incarnated by Pinto’s attitude. There was room for talent and prima-donas like Futre or Madjer, for cultured players such as Frasco or Sousa. But all seemed to respect that young kid born in the neighbouring Vila Nova de Gaia more. When Porto won their first European Cup trophy, with Gomes absent through injury, he was named team captain ahead of other players who had been at the club longer than him and who were also hardened veterans themselves. But they weren’t him.

Iconic European Cup trophy celebration

The only moment he allowed himself a little bit of self-glory was when he lifted the “Big Ears” trophy and ran with it, not passing it on to anyone, as if he was afraid it was all just a dream and that by handing it over, he would wake up once more in the morning of that decisive match in Vienna. For the following decade, that image lingered in the mind of every supporter. They were him, they felt exactly like he did, and they could resonate. Pinto had every opportunity to leave Porto for greener pastures, but he never even let the idea into his head.

He was the team captain of the club that he supported since he was a kid, and there was no bigger reward than to be the beacon of the human ideals that he learned from Pedroto himself on his dying days as manager. If Pinto da Costa personified what Porto was all about during those twenty-five years of undisputed glory, João Pinto was, on the pitch, a reflection of what the president did off it. That included harassing referees, provoking opponents, scoring decisive last-minute bangers or rousing the enthusiastic crowds.

Suddenly, it seemed that it wasn’t João Pinto who was guiding the side but his shirt. His number 2 shirt. As if it had a life of its own. Wearing it became a token of leadership and inspiration to those who played with him and to those who went to watch the side. A hoop of power made of polyester.

A legend departs, a legend enters – Jorge Costa fills the berth

When his tenure ended, many supporters believed the magic around the number 2 shirt would depart with him, but, by then, the club and the dressing room had found a worthy successor. For six years, Jorge Costa had proven himself to be the man who would guide the club towards the future. He, too, was a defender. He too was a local lad playing for the club of his life, so much so that, contrary to the likes of Vitor Baía, Fernando Couto or Domingos, and other likely candidates, he never entertained any thoughts of moving away from the city to find glory abroad.

He was Porto through and through, blood and bones, and, ironically, by wearing the number 22 shirt ever since it became mandatory for a player to keep the same number throughout the season, it was evidently a sign that he was waiting for his time to arrive. Costa was an even greater captain than Pinto, notably because the game had changed so much. João Pinto’s glory days had come before all the new FIFA rules designed to make football a more attacking game, which curtailed much of how defenders could tackle without being punished.

Costa, who was a rock as a centre-back, grew up in the good old days where centre-backs had a free pass, but learned quickly how to adapt to a newer reality. He was a better player and, more importantly, a greater leader. He not only led by the example of sacrifice but also through the ability to inspire. The way he overcame several career-threatening injuries. The core values he represented that were tested time and time again by lesser men, and how he was always accompanied by defensive partners who, in paper, looked better than him but whom supporters would always choose second to him on any day, made him an icon.

Glory and respect

Pinto had been there during the first great decade of the club. Costa lived through fifteen years of unremitting glory. The Pentacampeonato (five successive league triumphs) – one of the few players to take part in all five seasons – the UEFA Cup, Champions League and Intercontinental trophies won between 2002 and 2004, and a key element in Portugal’s golden generation exploits, made him a household figure.

Contrary to João Pinto, who was loathed by rivals, Jorge Costa won admirers everywhere. He was hard but loyal. He was a fanatic, but also never stopped being critical. He raised the game of the club’s captaincy not only by following but by commanding. In a sense, he made the number 2 become a true symbol in the club’s hierarchy. First, there was the club president, the almighty figure of Pinto da Costa; then came the club captain. Managers, star players, they were always seen below them as they came and went, while both the leader of the board and the boss in the dressing room had committed themselves to the club for life.

For twenty-five years, that was what happened, and when Jorge Costa left, in a sense, so did part of what his shirt meant. The number 2 was still revered by supporters, but the club found it hard to find someone worthy to fill his shoes. It was also a time when, despite still winning regularly, Porto was becoming more and more of a toxic entity where no sort of internal debate was accepted, making the all-important figure of the team captain lose relevance, particularly if they followed Jorge Costa’s vision of the job.

Porto’s number 2 shirt today

Ricardo Costa, an academy graduate as well, followed suit, but he wasn’t as good a player or leader, and soon left the club. Only briefly did Porto find a player whose traits were similar to its previous captains, but Bruno Alves was never as good as they ever were. The worst came when Alves left and the number 2 shirt reverted to being one associated more with the tactical position of right-back than with the leadership qualities demanded from a club captain or a dressing room leader. Danilo, Maxi Pereira and Tomás Esteves, who did not even debut with the first team, followed and they were only presented with the number as a marketing tool by the board.

Fábio Cardoso, who was a Benfica graduate and one of the worst centre-backs Porto signed in the past decades, became the last to inherit the number. It was a decision on a par with many made in the latter days of Pinto da Costa’s reign, as if he was too afraid of the emotional blueprint the shirt meant to supporters and so was ready to hand it over to the least likely candidate to wear it. Funny enough, when Jorge Costa came back, as a sporting director, for the 2024/25 season, the number was left out. It looked like the club was starting to rekindle what it once was, and the man himself saw no-one worthy of its power. The same thing happened this season, and some supporters even contemplated the possibility of the number 2 shirt being retired altogether.

The tragic passing of the former club captain made the idea even more popular, but to retire a number is also to retire his strength. The number 2 shirt can be used by anyone, but on the back of someone who represents the core values the club have made theirs, after five decades of huge transformations, it means much more. Like El Cid riding against his enemies already dead, to inspire his men, the weight of myth can never be underestimated when players face off each other on the pitch.

This is perhaps the greatest legacy the number 2 has given to the football club and the best possible way to address its symbolic meaning is to harness its power. To keep it locked in, like the Holy Grail or the mighty Excalibur, only to be worn by those deemed truly worthy to follow the likes of João Pinto and Jorge Costa, both on and off the pitch. A local kid, a youth team graduate or someone who arrives at the club and embodies the spirit of the Dragon like no other. A reward for commitment, more than just a marketing tool.

Leaving it in the hands of every other player not only devalues its relevance but also erases its magnetism. And there are shirt numbers that, worn by the right footballers, mean much more than just a numeric sequence. The Dragão stadium waits silently for the next number 2 to be someone who can make a difference. That explains why sometimes a football shirt is exactly the same as a superhero suit. A magic custom to guide them to victory.