Filipe Luís took over Flamengo’s senior team in September 2024. Fourteen months later, no one in Flamengo’s modern era has collected silverware this fast. That’s not a trajectory—it’s a vertical line.

A year before the top job, he was running the U17s. By mid-2024, he’d moved up to the U20s and won the Intercontinental U20 Cup. Then Tite left, and Luís stepped in. His record since: 46 wins, 17 draws, 7 losses in 70 matches. The hardware: 2024 Copa do Brasil, 2025 Supercopa do Brasil, 2025 Campeonato Carioca, 2025 Copa Libertadores.

He’s 39.

The inside track

Luís wasn’t parachuted in. He came up through the youth teams, learned who to trust and who to avoid, and earned his credibility before anyone handed him anything.

Flamengo eats coaches. “Since 2020, no one lasted long here,” one recent piece noted. Luís survived because he arrived with something outsiders can’t fake—fluency. He knew the culture, the infrastructure, the youth pipeline, the politics. The players trusted him before he ever drew up a formation.

Simeone’s student, but not his copy

Luís played under Diego Simeone at Atlético Madrid. You can see it in how Flamengo defends—the compactness, the aggression, the way they hunt the ball as a unit. But this isn’t Cholismo cosplay.

Watch how they move: fullbacks drifting central, wingers finding pockets between the lines, constant rotation to outnumber defenders in key zones. Simeone’s teams don’t play like this.

Against Chelsea at the Club World Cup, Flamengo repeatedly dragged the right-sided center-back out with inverted wingers, then punched through the gap using a third-man run. It was a sequence straight from a positional-play manual, and exactly the kind of detail that gets European clubs’ attention. Final score: 3-1. In the knockouts, they gave Bayern more trouble than anyone expected.

Luís doesn’t marry systems. He dates them. This kind of tactical evolution is rare—context dictates shape, not dogma.

Why he might actually be different

This wasn’t an accident. Most retired players skip straight to the top job or skip coaching entirely. Luís took the long way—U17s, then U20s—because he wanted to learn before the stakes got real.

He earned his coaching badges while still playing. He sat in video rooms when teammates were on the golf course. He built relationships with analysts and scouts. When opportunity came, he wasn’t scrambling to catch up—he was ready.

“I know some players will be upset with me,” he said in one interview, “but ‘Filipe Luís the coach’ must be different from ‘Filipe Luís the man.'” Easy to say. Harder than it looks—plenty of former players can’t discipline friends. Luís gets that being liked and being respected are different currencies.

Europe is paying attention

Brazil exports world-class players by the dozen. Coaches? Almost never. The pipeline doesn’t exist—which is why this level of European attention feels significant.

But watch what he’s doing. He took over a winning machine and made it faster, harder to break down, more dangerous on the ball. That’s not someone keeping the seat warm.

Europe will come calling. The only question is whether Luís picks up.