O Fan Ultimativo: Fan stories

O Fan Ultimativo Fan Stories

Give the young the ball

A whole nation is mourning, a whole continent moved. What has happened to the football? What has happened to the players?

People are sad and disappointed in the samba-playing football nation: what has happened to their joy, their passion and those feet that dance with the ball?

The Brazilians have never had a reputation as great team players, but now they have lost their individualism too.

We are all crying over a brand of football that is loved by people the world over and was awaited with such eager anticipation.

Let us place our hope in the future. Let the young have a chance. On my journeys through Brazil, I was struck by their incredible energy. These youths are the new Brazil. They are creative, playful, bursting with energy and very, very proud.

Perhaps it was just too soon for the sixth star, but it’s not too late for Brazil’s youth: they are ready to accept the challenge.

Ute Müller de Flor (07 July 2006)

the two faces of the mineirão

decembro 2004: the penultimate day of play in campeonato brasileiro. i had been in belo horizonte for several days, availing myself once more of the hospitality of lotus and her son joão, both of them galos (adherents of atlético mineiro) from the bottoms of their hearts. atlético was in one of the last places in the table and in acute danger of relegation to the segunda divisão. all it would take, really, was the defeat of the favorite and arch local rival cruzeiro against vitória da bahia, who had played a truly awful season. joão had felt bad for days and suspected that cruzeiro would intentionally lose, just to give atlético the deathblow. atlético played away this day and its own result kept everything open. Jorge, the brother of my love and a highly esteemed expert on brazilian football, bought me a ticket to the match between cruzeiro and vitória in the mineirão. i had never seen from the inside this stadium not far from niemeier's pampulha, but knew well that in earlier times it had held up to 100,000 spectators and i was extremely excited. all the more disappointing that a mere 700 cruzeirenses wanted to watch this game, which would have no more consequences for them. but cruzeiro played hard and won.

atlético now absolutely had to win in the last match against third-place são caetano, if it wanted to avoid relegation - it wasn't impossible, but it was highly improbable. the week with lotus and joão passed in nervous anticipation. atlético dumped tickets on the market for one real. they had been available only in limited contingents and in several phases at only two ticket windows in the city. very early on the first sales day, joão and I found ourselves in the headquarters of the (clube atlético mineiro) in the line of the patient torcida, who was already celebrating as if atlético had already managed it. after four hours of direct sunlight, five or six skols, which we alternated fetching from the refrigerator of the next paderia. around 2 in the afternoon we had five tickets in our hands.

sábado, the day of decision: joão, two good friends and i sat in the car, once again on the way to the mineirão, past the airport, but the streets were hardly passable anymore. all around the mineirão, a sea of black-and-white vertical. i too meanwhile wore a jersey from the season before last and since then, in the family of my love, have been regarded as a deserter. the entrance controls were lax, the stadium brimming with 70,000 persons, and, an hour before the match, the bleachers already shook rhythmically from the dancing crowd. i had worries a couple of times about the condition of the concrete, but they disappeared in the general euphoria. atlético won unbelievably well deserved, 3:0, and after every goal we lost sight of the match for minutes, because we were covered by one of the huge bandeiras. joão had tears in his eyes that day and we drank a few more antarticas, skols, and bohemians, accompanied by traditional samba in a garden restaurant near the avenida contorno.

junho 2006: atlético plays in the segunda, cruzeiro became campeão mineiro for the umpteenth time. the cruzeiros fred and gilberto play in the seleção der copa, and brazil is becoming hexa e deus é brasileiro.

jotaka from Berlin (27 June 2006)

Life in Fortaleza

And then I saw my future husband, in the fabulous city of Fortaleza! The warm breeze and the dance of the coconut palms on the beach promenade fascinated him immediately. To make sure that he would neither leave this town nor, of course, Brazil, we married in 1987, and his heart grew fond of his eternal souvenir. There’s no better way of making sure that you have invisible ties there.

All you can do then is try to enjoy everything that this wonderful town with its mysterious dunes and, ultimately, this vast, delightful country have to offer: you can have those delicious caranguejos with a glass of beer, enjoy the live Música Popular Brasileira every Thursday evening at the Praia do Futuro; embrace the warm morning sun on the white beach and feel the blue sea with the salty white thick foaming waves on your skin while you drink ice-cold coconut water; see the red sunset in the Volta da Jurema, where you feel as if you can touch the horizon while you enjoy all sorts of tapiocas with a cup of coffee, before you decide to have fish and shrimps in peixadas; a caipirinha at the Dragao do mar, where you can eat the best pizzas around and see lots of cheerful people, visit a shopping centre and find all your heart desires, not to mention food per kilo – which you find everywhere, along with freshly squeezed fruit juices. If you want all this in one place, you go to the Beach Park, where you think you’re in the Caribbean. But if you want to meet some nice, easy-going people, it’s best to go to the centre and treat yourself to a sugar can juice with a pastel de queijo near the Praca do Ferreira, and then take a stroll through the city centre and admire the old buildings until you come to the Teatro José de Alencar.

If you love the beach, you can choose between any number white beaches in every direction; they are all so beautiful and very different that it’s almost impossible to describe them in words. The best thing is to start with Canoa Quebrada or Jericoacoara. Although when you have got to Cumbuco you are almost in Fortaleza.

If you are into hiking, you can climb the mountains and discover the beauty of Serra de Guaramiranga, for example, or Serra de Baturité, where you can bathe in all the little waterfalls and taste the typical rural titbits.

If you are a country fan, Sertao is a must. There, you can explore the tiny towns and villages, and acquaint yourself with the customs of their inhabitants who have a completely different rhythm than urbanites.

We’ll meet in Berlin!

Zenda and Hartmut Theis from Cologne (15 June 2006)

No more Caipirinhas!!

I spent four months in the northeast of Brazil and was proud of myself for having survived all sorts of possible and impossible situations intact. In particular, I’d also managed to more or less survive the highly praised churrascos and festinhas that you find at all kinds of places on all kinds of public holidays and in all kinds of situations, which you simply have to celebrate with Pitu and caipirinha.

On my last evening in Brazil, in Sao Paulo, I would have to face yet another test, however. Some friends of mine took me along to a performance at a Samba school round the corner. They were busy rehearsing for the Carnival. These kinds of performances are always an occasion for big street festivals, so we ordered Caipirinha. I was so fascinated by the red-and-black costumes, the sparkling sequins, the long legs of the women and the pounding drum beats, that I didn’t take any more notice of the caipis.

After I’d finished half the glass, I didn’t seem to be able to see straight any more. My surroundings moved jerkily like a distorted television image every time I turned my head to the left or right. I could hardly understand a word my friends were saying. It was only when I noticed the worried looks in their blurry faces that I realised that something was going wrong...

The following morning my boyfriend told me that the sellers distilled their own spirits, even though they don’t follow the legal provisions, and like testing them on the tourists. Fortunately for me, my plane to Frankfurt would not be leaving until the evening.

CL (12 June 2006)

Viva o futebol brasileiro! A match in 'small-town' Goiâna, a city of three million.

Well, there I was in Brazil. I had already climbed the breath-taking Sugarloaf Mountain; perspiring, I had learned to dance the samba in the arms of exhilarating men and drunk “real” Caipirinhas, with the lucky ribbon from Bahia fluttering on my arm. But there was still one thing that I had been saving for last: watching a football match live!

I was out in the provinces, in the countryside, so to speak, in Goiâna, a city with three million inhabitants. Was there any chance, out there in the wilds, of seeing live that cliché image of Brazilians juggling the ball like magicians, accompanied by the mesmerising sound of beating drums and a crowd dancing in raptures?

Then one morning I knew my chance had finally come: that evening, my friends told me in joyful anticipation, there was going to be a soccer match.

The city football stadium was truly remarkable. I’m sure it compared with Berlin’s Olympic Stadium in terms of size, but it looked very dilapidated. The plaster was peeling off, and in the gangways in the stands there were holes big enough for a child to slip through with no problem whatsoever. That particular day, the “Christians” were scheduled to play against some team or other from the surrounding area. Until then, I didn’t even know that denominational teams existed. But then again: why shouldn’t they? I’d have liked to see a friendly between a Candomblé and a Christian team...

Although the stadium was only about one-eighth full, the drummers managed to simulate an entire orchestra. I was surrounded by fans cheering euphorically, their hips moving in time to the beat of the drums. The footballers moved the ball lithely and skilfully. Here, football is still – more than anything else – a game.

What an incredible experience!

I can’t remember who won the match, but I’ll never forget the atmosphere, the enthusiasm, “o jeito brasileiro”. That cliché image of Brazilians does contain a ring of truth, but not because there is anything artificial about their behaviour, but because that’s the way life is.

Viva o futebol brasileiro!

AS (29 May 2006)

O Fan Ultimativo Fan stories

The House of World Cultures and Copa da Cultura are on the lookout for the ultimate Brazil fan, admirer and expert; someone who is crazy about Brazilian culture, society, football, countryside and people... With your fan portrait in the gallery or with your fan story on these pages.