Saturday Feb 17, 1989, Jundiai, Brazil
ON BRAZILIAN SOCCER
The Brazilian's are very touchy about their soccer. They very deeply want to hold on to the claim as world's best. But can such a claim be made? Brazil has not won the world cup since '70. Since Pele.
Let's start on ground level. here, on the streets, on the campinho's, everyone is good, many are great. They play more than we do and they enjoy playing more than we do, perhaps more than anyone. They laugh, they tease, joke, play hard. They play for fun. They play to look good more than win. I remember the score--they remember who they dribbled. Ze, the calmest, nicest guy off the field is a trash talking loudmouth on it. Afterwards it's always the same is his limited English he recaps all his best moves, forgetting anything bu that, "did you like my show?"
We played everyday in Brazil in every imaginable setting. The weekly game in the construction Campinho was my favorite--not at first, I was like: "where's the grass?"
They taught me a different side to the game. Though I played at the highest levels, they understood a better way of playing. As the weeks and games went by, on the futsal courts, the beach, the sitiou, the campinho, I began to let go of the score, of the win.
I grew up playing hockey on the ponds of Golden Valley. This was like that. I started to recall the great winter pick up soccer games at USC (where I went my freshman year), and later, the spring games at Trinity, or the practice games with the Interanationals in Richfield. They were always fun. Really? Was this the key? Had I let my desire to rank, compete, work and win get in the way of my growth? Were these seemingly meaningless games Brazil's secret? Their key to growth? Could an environment like this be cultivated in the US? Maybe. I took notes, asked questions. I was determined to bring this back home. (to be continued).
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