Carlos Renato Frederico, known simply as Renato, was an attacking midfielder who began in Campinas with Guarani, pulled on the famous yellow shirt of Brazil at a World Cup, and then carried his gifts to Japan at a time when few imagined the Far East as a footballing destination.
PART ONE
Renato’s journey began in earnest in 1975, when he broke through at Guarani, a club known for nurturing talent and refusing to accept that São Paulo’s giants should monopolize the game in Brazil. At just 18, he was already showing signs of the classic Brazilian “meia” – quick feet, vision for a pass, and an eye for goal that separated him from the mere organizers in midfield. Moreover, he wasn’t just flair without substance, because he possessed the kind of tactical awareness that made him indispensable to the side.
It didn’t take long for him to achieve success. In 1978, Guarani stunned Brazilian football by winning the Campeonato Brasileiro Série A, and Renato was central to the achievement, threading passes, arriving in the box, and dictating the rhythm of a team that played without fear. The victory was not only historic for Guarani, who remain the only club outside Brazil’s traditional powers to have lifted the national crown, but also pivotal for Renato himself, since it elevated him to a national stage and brought inevitable interest from bigger clubs.
Accordingly, a move to São Paulo FC followed in 1980, and the timing could not have been better, for the Morumbi was a stage big enough for a player who thrived under pressure and loved the responsibility of creating for others. With São Paulo, he collected back-to-back Campeonato Paulista titles in 1980 and 1981, cementing his status as one of the finest attacking midfielders in the country. What’s more, his style suited São Paulo’s attacking philosophy perfectly, because he could operate between the lines, link up with forwards, and still finish chances himself.
Yet Brazilian football is never short on competition for places, and Renato, like so many creative players of his generation, found himself in the shadow of a golden crop. Even so, he was rewarded with a call-up to the Brazil national team in 1979, debuting in a 5–0 demolition of Bolivia. Over the next four years, he would collect 22 caps and score three goals, and while that tally might look modest compared to some of his illustrious contemporaries, every appearance came in an era when the Brazilian midfield was overflowing with artistry.
Indeed, Renato’s greatest brush with global stardom came at the 1982 FIFA World Cup in Spain, when Brazil produced arguably the most celebrated side never to lift the trophy. Coached by Telê Santana and boasting Sócrates, Zico, and Falcão, that squad danced through the group stage with football so fluid and imaginative that it became mythologized even in defeat. Renato was part of the roster, and though he didn’t take to the field, simply sitting on the bench alongside such giants was testament to his quality. Furthermore, his presence in that squad underlined that he belonged among the finest talents Brazil could call upon, even if his moment on the pitch never arrived.
After four productive years at São Paulo, Renato moved briefly to Botafogo in 1985, where he sought a new challenge but found the club struggling to reach the heights expected of its history. Nevertheless, his next move would rejuvenate him. In 1986, he joined Atlético Mineiro, one of the fiercest and most passionately supported clubs in Brazil. Here, he not only regained form but thrived, winning the Campeonato Mineiro in 1986 and 1988, and in between those triumphs, delivering performances so consistent and decisive that he earned the Silver Ball Award in 1987, given to the best players in Brazil’s top flight. That honour confirmed what many already knew: Renato was one of the classiest midfielders of his generation.
PART TWO
By the late 1980s, as many Brazilian stars looked toward Europe, Renato took a different path. In 1989, he crossed the globe to Japan, joining Nissan Motors (later Yokohama Marinos). At the time, Japan’s domestic game was still semi-professional, but clubs were starting to bring in foreign talent to elevate standards, and Renato arrived as a trailblazer. Consequently, he not only helped Nissan Motors win the Japan Soccer League Division 1 in 1990, but also made a personal mark by finishing as the league’s top scorer in back-to-back seasons (1989–90 and 1990–91). That was no small feat for a midfielder, yet it showcased his instinctive ability to arrive in the right place at the right time and to take chances with the same calmness he displayed when threading passes.
Furthermore, his years in Japan represented more than just trophies and goals, because they illustrated how Brazilian flair could integrate into a different footballing culture and inspire a new generation. The Japanese game was learning, adapting, and hungry for stars, and Renato gave them exactly that – a masterclass in professionalism and technique. After leaving Nissan Motors, he continued in Japan with Kashiwa Reysol in 1993, ensuring that his influence extended across more than one club.
When he finally returned to Brazil in the mid-1990s, it was to add his experience to smaller sides such as Ponte Preta (1994–1996) and later Taubaté (1997), and though the spotlight was less intense, his contribution remained significant, since he passed on his wisdom to younger players and remained a respected figure within every dressing room he entered.
Looking back, Renato’s career cannot be measured solely by caps or medals, although he has a fair share of both. Rather, it must be seen as a journey that captured the essence of football’s changing landscape, from Brazil’s golden domestic competitions to the mythic failure of 1982, and then to the growing adventure of Japanese football before the dawn of the J.League. His ability to adapt, to shine in different roles and different countries, marks him out as more than just a fine midfielder – he was an ambassador for Brazilian football’s enduring creativity.
And yet, in true Brazilian style, his story is not without a twist of irony. For here was a man who scored prolifically in Japan despite being known as a playmaker, who sat on the bench during the most romanticized World Cup campaign of them all, and who lifted Brazil’s championship with Guarani – the only club outside the “big twelve” ever to do it – but still somehow never became a household name outside Brazil and Japan.