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.

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!

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.

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...

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...