Another reason to cheer - São Paulo

2002 World Cup Team. Cafu to the right in the back, Lucio number 3 next to him

So, today I was at my usual weekly Reading Mum volunteer role at my kids' English language school in São Paulo. The Year 1 students (all around 6 years old) read to me one at a time--a short book in English. I correct pronunciation or get them back on track when they get distracted by stroppy stepsisters. This morning, about five kids into the stack of books, the Year 1 classrooms started to explode with energy. I mean more than every other single day of the year. People kept saying "Lúcio, Lúcio" and I thought to myself, huh, that name sounds vaguely familiar. 

There is a reason for that. Lúcio is a 36-year old Palmeiras player (he joined in January) and has played for seven teams total (I did not know this of course; he told us when questioned) including the Brazilian World Cup team of 2002. And that was a year that Brazil won (even I knew that one!). He had his World Cup medal with him, and a special World Cup replica trophy that only World Cup winners get from an Italian sculptor. 

A World Cup trophy in amongst the plastic water bottles and ABCs

I of course could not resist. When all the little kids filed into the classroom to meet Lúcio, I went too. I had some tiny bit of right to be there as I read with Lúcio's daughter last term. For obvious reasons, I will not be telling you her name, show her photo or mention which school she attends. All I can tell you is that this cute little girl just radiated happy pride and love when her father walked in. 

Lúcio, and all I'm going to show you of his daughter--with her hand on his leg.

Just like any other parent coming to tell about his/her career, Lúcio talked about his. He answered questions about how many soccer cleats he had owned in his life, who was the best player in the world, which was his favorite club team, how many times someone had kicked a goal over his head. He answered all the questions with a smile (and in Portuguese, by the way) and with quiet confidence. It is impossible not to like him. Seriously, I dare you.

Lúcio had come from yesterday's loss 600 km away, flying in this morning, and coming directly to the school. I loved how he made his daughter a priority when he could. And what I mean by this is that if you think about these players, you think about how much money they make, how egotistical they are, how space alien-like they are (but I will stop talking about Cristiano Ronaldo soon). What you don't see behind them is their families.

Now I don't know Lúcio but let's just imagine how his life is. Especially in the twilight of his playing career. He won a World Cup in 2002, he was the captain of the team in 2006, and played as well in 2010 for coach Dunga, his hero. And in between all this he played for several European teams as well as several here in Brazil. When approached to leave Brazil last year to play again in Europe, he refused. He wanted to stay in Brazil. 

And when I watched his daughter, I understood it. His wife Dione was there too--together they have 3 kids. And these three kids and his wife get left behind when the team trains for the big games, for the travel all over the country and world and at the late night games, they are surely all asleep. I forget how many games these guys play in a year but it's unbelievable! 

When I sit with a kid to read, it doesn't occur to me what happens at their homes at night. Some go to bed without mom or dad around a lot of the time. And that makes me sad. And it must make the parent sad too.

Now Lúcio is not going to the World Cup this year. Okay, he is probably going but he is not playing. He will watch his compatriots go for the gold--and I hope he watches those games from home with his wife and three kids. And he will know the cost to players and to their families of all of the training, all of the stress and all of millions of harsh words that are leveled at the players that they must ignore.

We can't forget in the middle of all this corruption and protests and FIFA-hating and Dilma-hating, there are 11 men on the field, and 12 more on the bench, who have lived entire lives for this World Cup. And they have sacrificed--even Cristiano Ronaldo who I love to hate has had to give up "normal" life for "national service" and his own dreams. And some of them are happy with that for a while...a long while... but I'm guessing that it weighs on all of them. 

So cheer for the players. Especially the ones you have never heard of and who don't make 8000000 billion on sports ads and drinks. They are giving up some of themselves for us, the spectators. 

Another reason to cheer. If not for Lúcio this time, for the others who come after.

Yeah it's dark...but here's me and Lucio..

Now auditioning - São Paulo

I just lost my football team here. Comercial de Piauí is not playing in 2014 because they are bankrupt and owe lots of money to the Brazilian Football Federation, and also because none of the other local teams are supporting them. And their president doesn't show up to meetings, even to save his own hide. It is a sad end (or perhaps temporary stop) to a team founded in 1945. You can read about it here.

Comercial is (was?) a fourth division team. Yes, there are five divisions in Brazilian football, and every year some teams move up and some teams move down. That is the case of Palmeiras, BH's favorite team which spent a year in the second division before moving back up to the first division, or Serie A. If this all makes your eyes cross, you are not alone. 

So, how did I get to be a Comercial fan? As you all know, I am not much of a football fan. I prefer Palmeiras winning because BH gets crabby if they are losing. I still get annoyed by things like theatrical diving to the ground, lack of instant replay and no time-outs for pee breaks. But the main thing that makes me nuts is the fighting. I don't even mean the beating of the opponents (literally, with punches and kicks). I mean the non-stop..."oooh, Corinthians? That team is terrible." and on and on the fans go forever and ever. Four of the five teams here in São Paulo are non-stop ****-slinging at each other. The games when they play each other are called "classicos" or classics, which translates roughly as 'if you value your life, stay at home." The fifth team is essentially the Chicago Cubs of football and no one can get bothered by them.

I decided a couple of years ago that I was not going to have a team. I am friendly to Palmeiras (oh, alright, I have a fan card but only because BH got it for me) but they are not really at the level of "minha vida é voce" (my life is you) like is written on the card. Please, people! Get a grip! Ugh, and don't get me started on Corinthians with their bumper stickers reading "I am loyal until I'm dead." 

But I was hassled all the time to pick a team. Then a friend said, well, why don't you cheer for a small team? And I started looking around. BH is from Ribeirão Preto and I saw there was a team there called "Comercial" so I said to this friend that I was going to cheer for Comercial.

His response was: which  one? I believe there are actually three Comercial teams. Once he mentioned that there was Comercial de Piaui, I took a look. They play at a field called Deusdeth which can fit 4,000 people (one-tenth of the population of Campo Maior, the team's city). I wouldn't ever have to go to a game (it's 2700 km/1600 miles away) and the team shirts are not available online. Perfect. And I became a fan of Comercial de Piaui.

That's just close enough. São Paulo to Piaui

Until they dropped out. Now I can't be without a team so this week I am auditioning new teams to be mine. I have already polled friends on my personal facebook page and I already have a few contenders, though not in the right division. Let me tell you the prerequisites for the auditioning team:

1. The team may NOT be one of the big teams of Brazil. No Flamengo, Flu (hahahaha!), Gremio, Inter, Corinthians, Athletico of any kind, etc. 
2. I prefer blue.
3. I prefer teams where the fans are not thugs. If they have killed any referees or other players, they are not my team.
4. I prefer a team that is third or fourth or fifth division. So as not to run afoul of Palmeiras, as I live in a porco household. Definitely NOT a first division team. Second is acceptable. Preferably bottom of second.
5. I prefer a team that is not within driving distance. I don't actually want to have to go to a game. Ditto on not wanting any that might be televised.
6. No teams with Adriano or Ronaldinho on it.
7. I prefer cool mascots like lions (Avai) or wolves (Paysandu).  No dopey toucans. Even Comercial's goat was pushing it.

There, I think I've covered it. If you have any suggestions, I am all ears. I'll probably need to commit myself to a team in about a week so as to acquire the requisite level of knowledge about its players by the end of Carnaval.

Let the auditions begin...teams receiving votes so far are Avai and Paysandu. Yeah, look them up. Aloha!

Green Stain - Seriously? São Paulo

Okay, so at the risk of alienating my husband, I have to bring up the Mancha Verde, or the Mancha Alviverde, depending on how you feel about the law (see below). A direct translation is the Green Stain--an indirect translation would be one of the largest fan clubs in Brazil, and the biggest of Palmeiras. It boasts somewhere around 70,000 members. I should not be joking that a fan club is called a stain because there are some of these folks who would not be so happy with me, shall we say.

The Mancha are the folks who sit across the way from us in the yellow sector in Pacaembu stadium. They are tons of fun when they are happy. They hop up and down, dance, coordinate arms to the left and arms to the right, run down, run up, spin around their shirts, bring green and white balloons and flags and huge banners. From afar, I love them. I do not wish, however, to be seated in the middle of them.

The Mancha was originally founded in 1983 from a fusion of three other smaller fan clubs: the Imperio Verde (Green Empire), the Inferno Verde (the Green Hell) and the Gremio Alviverde (no clue). The name Mancha Verde actually comes from a Disney villain, the Mancha Negra (this is the Phantom Blot according to Wikipedia, who I do not recognize but was apparently an old-time archenemy of Mickey Mouse). The Mancha Negra used to rob banks and leave victims with black blots. Not really sure why this would be your mascot (yes, Corinthians does win the fan club mascot war with  the hawks).

Anyway, the Mancha Verde is judicially dead according to the same source, because of a major fight between the Palmeiras and São Paulo fan clubs in 1995. 110 injured and 1 São Paulino dead. At that point, the Mancha Verde was converted into a Samba School (I'm not really sure how you execute this transformation--dance lessons? They really are quite limber). In 1997 a new Mancha was created with new rules, headquarters and a separate directorate so that if the fan club did something bad, the samba school would not be affected.  So the new Mancha is called the Mancha Alvi-verde (alvo=white, verde=green). Or not. I see the signs in the stadium are still Mancha Verde.

Love them or hate them, they are a huge part of the fun at live games. Unless of course you are a Gavião da Fiel (a Corinthians fan club member--a Loyal Hawk). And then, all bets are off.

Little Big Town - São Paulo

Yesterday at the Palmeiras game (yep, another one), we had watched the first half and were sitting down at half time (as I've mentioned, there is no half time show except for inflated credit cards (!!??!) in the middle of the field) just looking around. And we noticed a row down across the aisle the judo teacher for the boys. We went over to say hello and he commented that he is at every game, and he is a green-blooded Palmeirense complete with 1914 tattooed on the inside of his wrist. Six months ago I would not have known what that means but now I know it to be the year of Palmeiras' founding. 

Anyway, my football genius is not the point. The point is that I run into people I know all the time in this, the 7th largest city in the world. 21,000 at the stadium and we run into the judo teacher. I get lost in an area of the city where I never am, take a detour down an alley and almost run over my own husband who has come to lunch for the first time in the same area. My husband, as a Brazilian native, is even more likely to run into his "peeps"-- a kindergarten friend, an old co-worker. I never run into people I know in the US--not even in my old home town of 17,000 people (and many of the people I grew up with still live in that town). Why is that? 

Little Big Town.

Are you ready for some football? - São Paulo

I cannot resist more observations from the sidelines of Brazil's national sport. It's not my fault: my husband has decided that this year I am going to go to every home Palmeiras game so I am ready to not make stupid comments during the World Cup. So I am going to make stupid comments now. I will expect my soccer-loving readers to correct and lambast me at will. I will shortly thereafter fall to the ground grabbing my leg and screaming until someone is awarded a yellow card and then I will feel much better and rapidly.

First of all, after four Palmeiras games I can still only name three players. This means I am not a fan. The goalie (who prefers orange outfits) is Prass. The famous guy is Valdivia. He is not Brazilian but seems to be Mercosul. Yes, Chile. The other guy who I thought was leaving the team but perhaps not (I really cannot be bothered to follow up with this stuff) is Vilson. He sounds like a bad guy to me...like a villain. But apparently he is good. Or at least chaotic good.

Valdivia. I am studying.

So here the main problems for me getting to know who the players are. 

1. I have bad distance eyesight. I have no idea who those little ant guys are from my cheap seats. By the way, I love the cheap seats. I am never ever going back to the real seats. The fans in the cheap seats are hilarious. 
2. The players change numbers all the time. Seriously, what is that? One day you're "7", one day you're "4" etc. So I can't even look at a number "80" and say "ooh, that's Jerry Rice" like I can in the US. Jerry probably could have played soccer--not much that guy couldn't do. So here I am cheering for Vilson and my husband will look at me and say "helllloo, number 10 is so-and-so today". Well, give me a break already. Wear one number.

Jerry Rice. They retired "80" for him. Look at how many Raiders are on the ground. Not holding their toes and crying.

3. They all switch teams all the time. It is very confusing. One day you have Ronaldinho, and the next day you don't.  Stop it.

Here are some other things that make American football more watchable to me:

1. Squishing. It's all allowed in the game (well, to a point). So you get squashed by the Refrigerator and you lie there on the ground because you are actually hurt after being sat on by a 250 kilo guy. Not because someone kicked your shin. Please, boys. Timinho. 
2. Replay. Sorry, but I love it. I like to be playing Angry Birds one minute, then miss the touchdown, and be able to look up at the Jumbotron and see what happened. From every angle. Soccer goals happen once every 200000000 minutes and it's hard to keep awake for every one. One word for you soccer managers: Jumbotron.

Correct yellow card presentation

3. Yellow flags are superior to yellow cards. Okay, I admit that given the right ref, the yellow card presentation can be pretty awesome. I like it when the ref runs right up to the player, stops on a dime, gets all rigidlike and straight arms the yellow card right up above the bad guy. That is fun. However, the ref on Tuesday had trouble getting the darn card out of his pocket most of the time and just waved it like a fan in front of the guy's face. Lame. I need drama. 

Yellow flag to be picked up.

An American football yellow flag gets chucked on the ground, up in the air, thrown around and left on the ground as the sides debate the call. You know, I am changing my mind. I like the yellow card better. One point for soccer. Also football does not have red cards or red flags. We need those.

And what is up with the soccer players gathering around the ref after a call and blah-blah-blahing. I have seen the ref change no call ever. What is the point? Get replay. Get Jumbotron. 

4. Constant entertainment. In the US, what with all the TV time-outs and replay stuff you get a lot more time to watch all the silly contests between nonathletic people and then of course the cheerleaders and bands and stuff. Okay, college beats NFL on this because there is lots of flag-waving and no one will ever beat the Michigan band revving up "hail to the victors valiant" at every possible break.

I am guessing there are no breaks in soccer because no one wants to ever venture into a bathroom at a Brazilian stadium. I don't. And as of now (non-World Cup stadiums) have no food courts: just hot dog and peanut vendors. Much better at a SF stadium where you can pop out for sushi and an Anchor Steam. 

Half time shows do not exist. I do not understand why a country that can serve an airplane meal in 15 minutes (seriously, TAM does this) cannot do more than have blow up credit card signs on the field.  Please explain to me.

Okay, that is my incredibly rich and well-researched study of why American football is still more appealing to me than Brazilian football.  Now, let's get going on the hate mail...

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!

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.