Tying up loose ends - São Paulo

Ituano celebrating. Credit: www.gazetaesportiva.net

So yesterday I watched Ituano Futebol Club defeat the storied football team Santos in the final of the state championships. Yes, I realize that I don't care about football but I cannot resist a David and Goliath match-up. Santos is the team of Pele and Neymar; Ituano is the team of Esquerdinha (little lefty) and Cabeça (head). Ituano is having one of those "Cinderella story" years that you know would seriously animate any American commentators. 

The game ended in penalties which is my least favorite way to end a match. I know it has to be that way because the players are literally passing out from fatigue and triple overtime just does not work. But I hate it because it usually makes one hero (a goalie) and one villain (the last guy to miss the penalty shot). It is where the "ultimate team sport" falls apart as a team sport. 

In any case, all this Ituano stuff reminded me that I have not chosen my new team yet. If you remember a certain blog post from February (link here), I had lost my favorite team to well, general incompetence (on their part) and I was going to audition some new teams. It was really fun to get a list of Series B, C, D and E teams because it was only then that I realized exactly how many teams there are here in Brazil. According to one source, there are more than 10,000 football teams in Brazil. Huh? Maybe.

I am running out of time to audition. It would be easy to choose Ituano (which had been suggested) now that it is at its pinnacle. I liked the idea of Juventus here in São Paulo except I might have to see a game because they are so close by. Penapolense, suggested by our personal trainer, seemed a good fit except that I cannot pronounce its name. Also 4 de Julho de Piri Piri plays at the same stadium as my vanquished Comercial de Piaui. I could have changed to Comercial de Ribeirão Preto given BH is from there.

So what is a girl to do? Diego Forlan has left the country and the time difference to Japan is just a bit much for me to watch those games. So cheering on a purely aesthetic basis is out as well. Therefore, I would like to announce the following to tie up this loose end as I make my exit from Brazil.

Comercial de Piaui, nunca vou te abandonar. I am never going to abandon Comercial.  In the end, it meets all my criteria (blue shirts, far away so I don't have to see a game, fifth division, doesn't compete with Palmeiras) plus one. They're not even playing!! I don't ever have to see a game! Well, just kidding. Probably they'll figure their way out of the money abyss (no, I am not buying the team) and will be back.

I love it when resolution makes me feel so good.

No little cars in football - São Paulo

Bad "carrinho" Credit: placar.abril.com

My studies in Brazilian football are ongoing. Only four months to go until the Cup starts and I'm feeling quite stressed about knowing about what happens on the field. Yesterday afternoon I decided to study the Manchester City vs. Barcelona game. First of all, love those British fans all singing "Let It Be." That's cute. Are they going to do this here?

Anyway, I started watching during the second half and at one point Messi broke away towards the goal closely followed by a Man City guy named Demichelis. Now, as a fashion pointer for Demichelis, I would re-think the shaved sides/ponytail look. It makes you look like a thug. And then act like one too.

So Demichelis took a flying sliding leap at Messi from behind, with clearly no intention of getting the ball, but only wanting to take down Messi. Ponytail guy was flying through the air kung-fu style with his legs out in front of him and tripped Messi in a pretty ugly way. He was ejected 20 seconds later with a red card.

This is apparently known as a "carrinho violento" or violent little car. Oh, of course I am not supposed to translate that literally but there doesn't seem to be a good English translation. One site gave me "slide-tackle." 

I would really like to know where "carrinho" comes from, especially since there is also a good "carrinho" which is a "gol de carrinho" or little car goal. That's when you kung-fu the ball by throwing yourself towards the ground with your legs out in front of you...oh, heck I can't describe this. 

Good "carrinho" Credit: bobbygee.wordpress.com

I was going to put in a video here to explain the bad "carrinho" but I just watched two that made me sick...literally breaking the leg of an opponent. This move is bad news and is being treated very seriously now and is subject to immediate ejection of the offending player. It's got a cute name, but it can end a footballer's career.

Nasty game. Football (American) is so much nicer. Kidding, folks.

Soccer Nation - São Paulo

Concrete soccer court at CEU Butantã (community center)

Everyone knows that Brazil is the country of football (soccer). Well, most people know--I admit that until I turned about 15,  I believed that Pele actually was American (well, he DID play for the New York Cosmos, my home team). But you really have no concept of what "soccer nation" means until you live here.

Here is what it means. People (mostly men and boys) play soccer here all the time. Any where. On the streets, on concrete courts at the pocket park, at the club, at academies, at rented fields, at hotel fields, on the beach. EVERYWHERE! My son is the perfect example of this. Though only seven, he plays at both the club and the soccer academy, as well as every spare moment at school, and every other spare moment at the nearby park. He kicks a ball against our house wall for an hour every afternoon if he does not find someone to play with him.

And he is not alone. On Saturday, he had the club championship--a hard-fought game that had him sitting only five minutes of the two 20-minute halves. After the game, he showered and then we went off to my other son's dance performance. While waiting for the doors to open, he and my husband disappeared. I finally found them across the community center on a concrete court playing soccer against three "moleques" (pre-teens), one with no shoes. The mom was the goalie of their team. The court was littered with graffiti, without nets for the goals, but my son played as hard as he did at the club. There was no quarter given for him being years younger than the others. It reminded me of the basketball courts that you see on the Upper (way upper) West Side in NYC. Down and dirty sports. My son entered the theatre seating completely soaked in sweat. 

I have to admit to looking forward now to the World Cup next year. Yes, I was against it so this may be hypocritical but there you have it. I think it's wonderful that the country that lives soccer gets to really live it and celebrate it for a month next year.  I wish that more infrastructure projects had actually come to life with the big useless stadiums but it didn't happen. But I can tell you that this place will fairly burst with pride (and boys kicking balls against walls) next June.

PS, after posting this early this morning, I happened to run across this Nike ad posted two days ago...weird coincidence...

 

Na raça - São Paulo

Brazil: The country of football. Photo credit: www.calangos.net

Brazil is known as the country of football (futebol if you are Brazilian, soccer if you are American). Everyone, except 41 million Argentinians, know that Pelé was the best player to ever live, and there is no shortage of great players coming out of here most years, Neymar being the most recent. What you don't get a feel for if you've never visited or lived in this country is how deeply football runs in the blood of many male Brazilians. 

I am not talking about spectator sports. I am not talking about watching Palmeiras, Corinthians, Flamengo, Gremio, etc on any given Saturday or Sunday. I am talking about playing it. From the poorest residents of the favelas to the wealthiest members of the social clubs here, most boys-to-men can play and will play for much of their lives. Everyone has heard Ronaldo Fenomeno's stories of wrapping socks one over the other to make a ball and playing with that. One of my own sons will kick anything that is remotely round--playing with a rock in front of a cage in South Africa attracted a fierce reaction from an apparently-Corinthiano cheetah.

You can play it anywhere. Photo credit: www.quadradodosloucos.com.br

My husband is one of those who has played his entire life. Starting on the campus of a university in the interior where his parents were professors, he has played football as often as he can. At the university where he started playing, there are still games every Saturday one hour before sunset. Everyone knows when it is time to show up. No one calls to confirm; not a single email is exchanged. I watched them once at this grass and dirt field surrounded by tall trees. The age range went from 17-75. The teenagers ran and ran, the older men selected strategically their moves. The oldest, with a large beer belly, played goalie and shouted out "encouragement" in colorful language. These men are not necessarily friends off the field, and sometimes not even on the field, but for an hour and a half every Saturday, until it is too dark to see, they are out there playing football. Na raça.

"Na raça" is translated indirectly as participating in something with energy and enthusiasm. If you speak Portuguese, you can look here. If you don't, you're going to have to trust me because I could not find a Portuguese-English translation. Literally translated, "raça" means people (or race) that share a common origin or physical, linguistic or social characteristics. I like to think of it as the race of footballers who share a common love of this game.

Photo credit: http://blogdoodir.com.br/2010/02/entre-agora-no-bolao-para-mirassol-e-santos/

My husband is now in his mid-40s and has played football since he could walk. He loves it. Besides the Saturday football game, he has played on school teams (including at our grad school in the US and in primary school in England), corporate teams, whenever invited (conferences sometimes have a social football game where no one is social on the field, but all the enmity is also left there) anywhere, and now he has started to play at the club after a five month hiatus from soccer. 

The hiatus was provoked by a game in June where he broke two arms and had five stitches in his head. When I say my husband plays football "na raça", this would be an understatement. At that time he was playing with a group of former co-workers at a society-sized field in the city. "Society" fields in the city are around 50 meters x 30 meters (regular fields are twice this) and normally surrounded by low concrete walls topped by chain link fence. My husband decided he needed to make a goal against two 20-year olds and ran too fast to stop in time for the wall--and went in head first with his two arms outstretched to protect his head. Two fractured arms and stitched head at the emergency room later, he only comments that the worst part is that he missed the goal. 

This particular group of players has since disbanded (fear factor from seeing how my husband will eat concrete rather than lose a game) and my husband went to check out the "racha" at our club this Monday. Now, don't confuse "racha" with "raça"--a "racha" is a pick-up game with whoever shows up that day. The racha starts at 4:15 pm and ends at 6:45 pm. How this group of men (guesstimate on ages from 24 to 64) have this time period free every Monday and Wednesday is a mystery to me. 

Playing "na raça" at the club

My husband had to start out in goal because he was the 11th to arrive (5x5) and the game was on. I know nothing about the sport, as you all know, but I have to say that it looked like some good fun, good running and good swearing. So much for the "no swearing" sign.  They play hard. My husband went down a couple of times, and I sweated a re-break of an arm and the possible resurgence of my life as a chauffeur. But except for some major soreness yesterday and today, there is no semi-permanent damage.

I absolutely love the idea of this sport that courses through the blood of many Brazilians. It does not course through mine, but I see how it is deeply within one of my sons as well. I hope he will play it always, and always with the same enthusiasm as his dad (minus the concrete wall). Na raça.

Kids and Soccer - São Paulo

Nigeria (green) waits to take the field against Tahiti (red)

I try not to write much about my kids as this is a public space and you never know what will come back and bite them (or me) in the butt. Also the NSA doesn't need to know about them. But once in a while, they have to come in from the periphery of this blog, as they are a big part of how I see Brazil. And of course, they are half-Brazilian so they add to my cultural learnings every day.

One of my sons (they are twins but not identical) is a born sports man. He is good at just about every sport he tries, but has an special love for soccer/futebol. He plays at least 2-3 times a week year-round. The other boy is a creative, shall I say; he likes non-competitive sports but doesn't love any. We finally found a soccer place that could handle a boy who, unlike most Brazilian boys, thinks it important to look for flowers on the soccer field and do dances  while waiting for the ball (no, he doesn't run after the ball but he will kick it if it comes within range). They are six years old. 

Yesterday we had one of the sports days of four hours of games that many of you parents can identify with. The soccer boy (I shall call him Blondie) had a game at the club for Panelinhas (hmmmm, how to translate? Technically a "clique" according to my translator, but really an internal club tournament for kids. Adults play in "Panelas", not to be confused with pans, which would be the literal translation). The club has a great soccer program--though one of the smallest clubs in the city, it gives great attention to the kids' program--this year there is even a sticker album with all the players. Love it.

Sticker album

Blondie plays for Nigeria. The other three teams in his age division (5-9 years) are Tahiti, Italy and Brasil. Blondie likes to win, but I have to say that he is a really good loser. Last year, his Panelinhas team, Manchester City, lost every single game. He did not cry, not even once. That being said, he prefers to win. 

Tied 0x0

Creative does not play at the club. The club is competitive and the parents can be tough. On a Sunday afternoon, they are likely as not to have had a couple of beers and feel that it is okay to yell "steal the ball from the little guy, he can't stop you." Yesterday, one of the fathers from Nigeria started yelling at the referee for a call against our team. Folks, this is a game and these are small kids influenced by their parents. Personally I hate going to the club games for the sole reason that I hate the parents. No, that is harsh. I dislike the attitude of anyone who cheers against another person--you may cheer for your own team but you may not do it to the harm of the other team. This is not only true of Brazil, by the way, because I have seen a lot of ugliness on Little League fields in the US. 

Anyway, it was a fun game and fairly evenly matched. With the range of 5 to 9 year olds there are some kids who tower over others, but they are very respectful of the little guys. Seriously. The kids are respectful. Not the parents. But I have covered that.  Blondie played well and ended up with the "Fair Play" award for the game. He was very happy. The game ended in a tie and we had to run out to get to his game at the soccer academy. 

As I said, our club is very small but well-kept and well-off. The soccer academy is located in a rougher area and attracts a range of kids. My kids don't usually play there at the academy but rather at a rented field at a house near ours. The academy consists of one concrete-walled, chain link fenced field, a small parking lot and an upstairs bar area which is tiny and hangs over one of the goals -- you have lean out into the chain link fence to see the goals.

Blondie is playing for Bayern Munchen. He was unhappy at first because he loves Barcelona, which is Creative's team. At first I was annoyed that my boys were placed on different teams because of different schedules, but I realize that it is for the best. 

Bayern Munchen vs Real Madrid

To cut a long story slightly shorter, Bayern took the field first against Real Madrid. Real Madrid is the team of Blondie's friend and archrival who I will call Irish. Blondie can handle any loss except when he is playing goalie and Irish scores a goal on him. They are great rivals and friends. It was 0x0 for a time until a penalty was called against Real Madrid. To my surprise, my son asked to shoot the penalty kick (is it a penalty kick when there is a "barreira"? The wall of kids? Hmm, out of my league). You see, a little known fact is that my little sports man is very shy.

And in one of those moments when mommy hearts burst with joy for our little ones, he scored an unbelievable goal. A ball that lifted and soared over the defense "wall", that curved right when the goalie went left. I will never in my life forget the look on his face--joy, disbelief, and happiness all rolled into one. He ran with arms out hugging the air...the bar area celebrated with him and the calls of "golaço" (huge goal!) rang out. 

The game continued and Blondie became goalie for a time, and of course Irish's team took this moment to score a well-deserved goal. Even that could not take down Blondie. The game ended 1x1.

Then came Creative's turn as Barcelona took the field. The team came out with hands held and Creative spent the entire walk to midfield blowing kisses and waving to me. Then he did a little dance while the teams were being presented. He wiggled his butt and jumped around doing gymnastics. Blondie just covered his eyes in the spectator area. The writing was on the wall.

 

See the one dancing on the left. yes. That one is mine.

Creative came in when the score was already 2x0 against Barcelona. He played defense. He did not leave the box. He stood on the line. If the ball came near him he would try to kick it. He did not run from the ball. He did not run to the ball. He stood on his corner. Then he sat down and tied his shoe. They paused the game. Then he did some spins and talked to the goalie. Then he sat down and tied his other shoe.

At this point, one of the neighboring fans, the mom of one of the stars of the game (and on Barcelona), said "what in the world is that kid doing?" She was not mean. Just wondering. And I suffered that dark suffering of moms as they hurt for their kids. By the way, Creative was not suffering. He was having a good time. He loved the game. He left the field believing that he had contributed. Final score: Man City 5 x 3 Barcelona. It could have been worse but there were several excellent players, including a little girl, on Barcelona.

As we left the academy, I noticed the mom of the little Barcelona star get into a small hatchback with 10 other people. I am not kidding--it was all full up. We got into our big imported car.  On the soccer field, it is all equal, or unequal, in terms of interest and skills. But I have to say that I much prefer the fan base and mix at the soccer academy to the attitude at the club. Let's see in a couple of weeks when Nigeria, Barcelona and Bayern Munchen again take the field.

Over the top - São Paulo

Here is one of the fine fans at the Palmeiras game on Wednesday. He has tattooed a stylized "P" for Palmeiras on his back. I really don't get this. Why in the world does one need to get a tattoo with your team's name if you have already shelled out $80 for an official shirt? Goes along with your official fan club card that says "Minha vida é voce". If your life is Palmeiras, you might have a problem. Especially because you're in the second division. 

Vice-Flashlights - São Paulo

"São Paulo team loses for a tenth consecutive game and falls to vice-flashlight."

Okay, as I may or may not have mentioned, I am making a concerted effort to understand the teams and the game of football in Brazil. I pretty much have the general rundown of who are the typical fans of each team:

1. São Paulo: rich folks. Almost our entire club is São Paulo fans. And our club is not one of the nicest ones. They may be wealthy but they are not necessary polite. No further comment.
2. Corinthians: poor folks who may or may not like to fight, but all things equal, fighting is good. Tend to tattoo crap like "Fiel até morrer" or Loyal until Death on their arms. It's a game, kids. Lighten up, Francis.
3. Palmeiras: Italian descent people and folks from the interior. And people who like green. Because all the other teams around here are black and white and maybe some red. Of course you can't be a team named for a palm tree and wear blue. What's that you say, Vlad? They were the blue team until 40 years ago? Hunh.
4. Portuguesa: A team financially supported by the Portuguese. These guys are the Cubs of the 4 city teams of São Paulo. They don't win. No one cares. People still go. No one hate Portuguesa. This is a good play if you don't want to fight about the team for which you cheer.  Then you can just watch the Bambis fight with the Gaviões or the Porcos. Trust me; choose Portuguesa.

There is some other team called Santos and their nickname is the Peixe or fish, but they wear white and live on the coast. I haven't figured out their fans yet. Once Neymar moved to Barcelona, who really cares? Note: Pele does.

So now you're up to speed as far as I am. Now try to get the lingo. No, I am not going to have a swear dictionary here. If you want to learn palavrões, come out to a game any given Sunday. Or Saturday. No, I'm talking about things that my husband says the fellow fans on the bleachers: "So-and-so doesn't have a right foot to get on the bus." This means that the player cannot kick with his right foot. Or as us Raiders fans would say "he sucks with the other foot." When is the last time you think these well-paid players even got on a bus? Oh, team bus. Probably that day.

Another favorite is when your team thinks the other team is acting out a foul (oh, my tooooeeeeee, I will need it amputated!! Owwwwww!! Hmmm, what? Yellow card for the other guy? I feel so much better. I think I'll play now).  You yell "Timinho" (pronounced "Chee-mee-nho!") or you are a "tiny team". You are a tiny little man. You do not deserve to play with us big boys. Or something like that.

Then I opened up the newspaper for my studying today and I met the phrase that a team had fallen to "vice-lantern" or possibly "vice-flashlight" in the division. Huh? It means they are second to last. Why is the last one the lantern? Is it like the old trains that had a lantern swinging off the back platform? Or maybe the ones in last place need a flashlight to see the first place? Someone? Anyone?

More research into this soccer, errr futebol, thing to come...less than a year to the world cup!

Churrasquinho de gato (Cat barbecue) and other street food - São Paulo

Not my photo. Not even a Brazilian photo. Trust me, you do not want to google cat barbecue images.

Leaving the Palmeiras stadium on Saturday, there were a number of what are called "churraquinhos de gato" or cat barbecues. These are run by street vendors who bring in a barrel or a small charcoal grill and barbecue up some questionable meat on spits and sell them for R$3 (less than US$2) for the famished football fans. Remember that stadium food is limited to hot dogs, chips and popcorn. One can work up a mega appetite from singing songs about pigs for two hours. 

The churrasquinho de gato is not, most likely, really cat or dog for that matter. It is third-rate meat and I would suggest that the cleanliness of the barbecues is a bigger carrier of bacteria than the meat. I have personally never braved one as I am not known for having an iron stomach. On the other hand, the food that people were selling out of almost-kitchens in their cars was almost tempting. 

Just open up your trunk and you're ready to go...oh, don't forget the aluminum foil on the back window to keep things warm!

This red hatchback was doing a booming business of pork sandwiches with fresh fixings. Those three red containers on their sides on the top are ketchup bottles on their own shelf--this lady can wield them like six-shooters. The line was long but moving quickly. Two cars ahead had pizzas laid out on a board across the back seat and trunk. These are all authorized vendors, by the way, and I do love their independence and the freshness they seemed to have. 

I did not, however, brave them.

Speaking of pigs...time for a Palmeiras game! - São Paulo

Cool old photo of stadium. It looks just the same now. Pacaembu, built 1940.

Yesterday I went to my third-ever Palmeiras game. You'd think I cheered for that team, no? I admit that I have become sympathetic to it though personally I don't think you can call someone a fan of a team if they cannot name more than one player on it. Valdivia. And I've got nothing else. Also cheering for a team whose official mascot is a parrot or something green and feathery while the unofficial one is a pig given their fans, is out of my usual system of choosing teams. 1. Who has a cool mascot and 2. who has cool jerseys. Hence the Oakland Raiders. But that's another story.

I try to keep neutral as much as possible, and pretty much just know the color of the jersey. Or not. Teams need to stop with this whole home jersey/away jersey thing. Palmeiras is the green team but they wore white yesterday. The other team wore blue-- but wasn't Palmeiras the home team with the right to wear home colors? Very confusing. I wore white so it all worked out (I don't own a Palmeiras jersey. True story.)

Fashion aside, yesterday was fun though probably closer to reality than past games. As in closer to the crazy football matches you see in the movies. We were again seated in the Arquibancada (bleachers) which are for the common man.  Not the bleachers for the "organized fans" such as the Mancha Verde (covered in my first blog on Palmeiras) but the regular ones. We were sitting in the orange bleachers which were not the favorite seats of my husband but a friend mistakenly bought there so we "followed" her. We had invited two more families who had never seen a soccer game live before and who had small kids. The last game we had gone to there had more than enough room to spread out and the views from the bleachers are fine.  US$20 for one ticket, and $10 for the other since we have a certain credit card with a discount. Kids under 12 are free.

We ran into the first couple at the line to get in. They were dressed so nicely. They looked very gringo. They seemed to be okay with the huge line and the number of people (I had already begun to suspect that the place was going to be packed). We went through the usual body searches and hassle at the gate (there was only one machine that would take the card which was our ticket). We got briefly separated from the kids but a ticket taker had them corralled in a corner. We then ran into the second couple at the top of the bleachers who said her husband was upset with the number of people and location of seats. There was not much I could do. My husband pulled me down the steps as the game was beginning. We had to pick up our six-year olds to get down the stairs and find a space in the bleachers--a few people kindly moved over for us when they saw us with kids.

This is the irony of the bleacher seats. It's packed. It's rowdy. But it's not mean. Perhaps it is the feeling that only true fans would pile up like gerbils for a diagonal view of the field? So if we are there, we are true fans too so let's all just get along. At one point in the game, the father next to us with a five year old kid offered my kids popcorn from the container they had been eyeballing for a while. It is a nice group.

The view from orange. Dudes in white hats below are military police.

Until you actually listen to the yelled comments. Yep, again the bad calls resulted in the referee being told to um....suck something. The opposing players and anyone who didn't perform up to par on "our" team were all named "filhodaputa". The first half was painful. Palmeiras heard quite a lot of feedback, especially after opposing team Parana made the first goal.

During half time, we all sat down (after standing the whole first half) and relaxed. The kids inhaled US$3 hot dogs. And the neighbor's popcorn. Then half time was over. The second half was fantastic--first one goal then another for Palmeiras and the crowd went wild. One of my sons is not very interested in football and had to be convinced to stand up and cheer for the goals, the other laughed and smiled and sang with the rest of the stadium. My favorite songs all have to do with pigs, and when it was clear that Palmeiras would win there was a giant group call for "Festa no Chiqueiro!" (Party in the Pigpen!) It was a great game. And a nice sunset.

We ended up staying until the whistle. The crowd outside the stadium was pretty peaceful, everyone just trying to make their way home. Would it have been rougher if Palmeiras had lost or if it had been one of the big games? Yes. The opposing team had only about 50 fans there, in a separate section, and could only leave the stadium when escorted by the military police. Things are different here.

As we walked to our car down a quiet street (with about 40 other fans), suddenly we heard a series of gunshots. It is not a sound that I have ever heard close up--it was less than a block away. And then several men running, fortunately not in our direction, and the policemen, guns drawn, in hot pursuit. We waited a bit, standing stock still then continued to our car. There on the corner was the biggest policeman (that guy must have been 6'5" and spend his free time benching small cars) standing guard over one of the bad guys, cross-legged and handcuffed on the ground.

So we got in our bulletproof car and drove home. Palmeiras 2x1. Military police 1-0. 

We are the Champions, my friends - Brazil

Image source: vendirect.allalla.com

And so here we are at the finals of the Confederations Cup 2013. In general, I don't care about soccer. In reality, I have to care. No matter what is going on in the country with protests against the expense of this cup and World Cup, Brazil cares. They are playing the current World Cup holders (Spain) at home at the newly renovated Maracanã stadium-- a national treasure. I would doubt that there will be a television in Brazil tuned to anything other than the game. And I imagine that not many cars will pass in the street and not many people will be out and about.

Except in Rio. The streets outside the stadium are likely to hold 1 million people protesting. Tomorrow's national strike starts early, and I can only hope that the home team will win, because if it doesn't, the crankiness level is going to rise a notch. And that's only talking about my husband who quite literally becomes crabby with a Brazil loss. This is sports like you have never seen it. It is part of the country's soul.

That is not to say that my husband celebrated Brazil's winning the bid to host the World Cup. He, as many others did, saw that this was going to be diversion of attention and money away from critical social services. He is one of many saying "I told you so." He has not taken to the streets with the protests (he does have two broken arms after all) but he is sympathetic.

Go Brazil! And I'm not just talking about the game...