Brazil, Life events, London

Football lovers

06/09/2011
Last Monday (5th), I went with my brother to watch a football match for the first time in London. The game was a friendly between Brazil and Ghana at Craven Cottage Stadium in Fulham.

Gana Supporter

Gana Supporter

In the streets around the stadium people were wearing the official T-shirt, blowing vuvuzelas and singing. Inside the stadium, my brother and I bought a beer at the bar and went to find our seats but then learned that is not allowed to drink, eat or smoke while the game is happening.

With no other option, we stuck down our throat 500 ml of Beck’s and headed toward the numbered seats. The place was great, with excellent vision of the field but with the ‘jeitinho brasileiro’ we can make everything better. From seats 153 and 154 we went to 1 and 2. From there I could almost hug the goalkeaper Julio Cesar. The players could hear everything we shouted: ‘Kick the ball Ronaldinhooooo!’

At that stadium, fans should remain seated all the time, but on the side where the Brazilian fans were, people were jumping on the chairs, screaming and banging on metal signs. It seemed we were in Brazil singing Carnival songs and cursing the referee.

Julio Cesar, Brazilian goalkeeper

Julio Cesar, Brazilian goalkeeper

‘The game is good but I am missing the old chap selling ice cream and beer, don’t you agree?’, I was too. In the crowd, some fans were talking about illegal Brazilians in England: ‘Imagine if immigration do an inspection today? Half of the people would be deported.’

This history reminded me of the Gold Cup final with Brazil 0 -1 Mexico in Los Angeles, USA, in 1996. My family and I watched the game but we were late, we missed the right entrance and stayed at the Mexican side. Their crowd shouted in chorus: ‘Imigración! Imigración’

Back to the friendly match in London, the score was one nil for Brazil with a goal by Ronaldinho. Watch the match so closely made ​​me think about Sundays in Clube Esperia in Sao Paulo, my hometown. I used to sit in the stands and watch my dad defending his team. Today it was me who entered the pitch. For 15 years I played football with happy moments and some injuries for the pleasure of seeing the stands go wild and scream: Goooaal.

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