They said a guy like him would never have played in the great Brazil teams of old.

Maybe so. But then it's equally true that, with Dunga in the side, Brazil reached two consecutive World Cup finals, something it had managed only twice before.

Had Dunga been born in, say, England, where hard-tackling, busy midfielders are idolized, he would have been bigger than Bryan Robson.

Of course, England had its own unappreciated genius: Glenn Hoddle.

Hoddle¹s crime was that he liked the pass the ball along the ground rather than hoofing it up in the air and occasionally preferred to look up before passing.

All this was anathema to some of the Neanderthal English critics of the time.

They called him lazy, because he did not run mindlessly.

They said he was a wimp, because he did not tackle furiously.

And they dubbed him Glenda, because, by their standards, he played like a girl.

Hoddle still managed to win around sixty England caps but he never gained the plaudits his talent deserved. He had to go to France (Monaco) to win some recognition.

England always seemed to prefer blood-and-guts midfielders like Graham Rix or Bryan Robson to the elegant Hoddle.

Perhaps it's a question of taste, but, if Hoddle had been born in Italy, his tactical discipline, vision and accurate, linear passing would have been an Italian manager's wet dream.

His close control in tight spaces and ability to pick out teammates would have made him invaluable in Italy's counterattacking systems of the 1980s.

Italy's own misunderstood star is Paolo Di Canio.

As an 18-year-old he was hailed as a future phenom. He was creative, unpredictable and blessed with otherworldly skills.

While Di Canio bounced around Italy's top clubs -- Lazio, Juventus, Milan and Napoli -- he failed to fulfill his immense potential.

Why? Because he was seen as undisciplined on the pitch.

His managers saw him as a right-sided midfielder. Whenever he would stray from his post, he would get criticized. Whenever he dribbled an opponent, rather than laying it off safely, he would get hammered.

In Serie A, tactical discipline is dogma. Di Canio's talent simply didn't fit.

Italians are convinced that you can get away with one (and only one) creative offensive midfielder/striker. And Di Canio had the misfortune of competing with the likes of Roberto Baggio at Juventus. It was even worse at Milan, where he was up against Baggio (again), Dejan Savicevic, Ruud Gullit and Roberto Donadoni.

So he was off-loaded to Britain, where he played for Celtic, Sheffield Wednesday and, his current club, West Ham.

Along the way, he turned into a forward and was given a free role. The results have been spectacular and he has finally tapped his huge talent. He is now free to follow his instincts on the pitch and he has responded by playing some of the best soccer of his career.

Imagine if, instead of being born into the shackles of rigid Italian tactics, he had been raised in Brazil, where talent and flair is appreciated and encouraged.

Di Canio's rare combination of workrate and skill would have made him a star. Brazilians understand that to produce something beautiful, whether a dribble, or a pass, or a trap, you need to attempt to something difficult. And when you attempt something difficult, inevitably, you might make a mistake.

The difference is that, unlike Italy, Brazilian managers rarely substitute players after their first mistake. There is a greater tolerance for flair and genius in South America and in Brazil in particular.

In many ways, fate has been cruel to Hoddle, Dunga and Di Canio.

They achieved a lot, but they might have achieved more if they had only been born as Hoddle the Italian, Dunga the Englishman and Di Canio the Brazilian.

The lesson here is that the way we define "good" football is dictated by our own national stereotypes and footballing backgrounds.

Based in London, Gabriele Marcotti writes a weekly column on international soccer for CNNSI.com.