Brasil Pentacampeão!
Morgan's Week of Chaos and Jingoism

If you've never been in Brazil during a Soccer World Cup, you probably won't understand this. If you're from England, Italy, Spain, Argentina, from one of those countries where at least 80% of the populations won't frown at hearing about the offside rule (impedimento, fuorigioco, hors-jeu, abseits), you might at least have a clue.

Brazilians breathe soccer. The entire population will stop whatever they're doing to watch our national team (Seleção) to play in the World Cup, and then spend the ensuing four years looking forward to the next edition of the championship. In Brazil no one will expect you to be anywhere but in front of a TV set during the Seleção's games. Factories will offer the workers a two-hour break, schools will send the kids home, priests will cancel the mass, cars will vanish from the streets, green-yellow flags will color every window, fireworks will pop up from every corner, competing with the sound of drums, horns, and either thrilled or frightened screams. The obscure lyrics of our national anthem all of a sudden seem to make sense as we sing it right before a World Cup match.

Maybe you've seen something similar in your town, after the local team won a game of baseball, hockey, badminton, or whatever is the popular sport around. Now picture that wild celebration spread over a nation with over 170 million people, all jumping and dancing and being deliriously happy at the same time. That's what's happening right now as I write this (and only the gods know for how long we'll be partying!).

On the other hand, losing a Cup is for us a national tragedy, nothing less. Soccer is our pride and honor, and not being up to match our reputation and history affects us in a way I can't describe, and that you'll never truly comprehend if I could. For Brazilians, being second best is being a plain loser. The general feeling seems to be: we don't lose because others are better, but because we failed to be good enough.

The strangest part is that Brazilians won't be that jingoistic and demanding about anything else. Other nations will be superior to Brazil in many other sports, in many other fields. Dang, that's sad, but we live on. However, when it comes to soccer, we have the moral obligation to win. Period.

My last week was spent between anxiety, terror and euphoria, as the Seleção got to the 2002 World Cup finals in Japan against the ever-powerful German team (Mannschaft). It was suddenly impossible to think of anything else but soccer and fate. Dragged by the national dreams of seeing our glory returned, and the nightmares of facing more four years in disgrace, my feverish mind simply refused to focus. That's why I present my apologies: I don't really have a site update for this Wednesday (June 3rd, 2002), except for this off-topic rambling and a single piece of YYH fanart.

I sincerely hope that Germans won't be as weird as we are. I hope they don't take occasional defeats -- and let's be realistic, the Mannschaft's defeats in soccer are very occasional -- as hard as we always do. I hope they don't crucify the great Oliver Kahn as we would have, stupidly and shamefully, crucified our players if they had lost. I hope, from the bottom of my heart, that Kahn and the rest of the team will be received back in Germany with as much affection, pride and gratitude we'll be receiving our triumphant Seleção with. We have the trophy and our fifth star, lucky bastards that we are, but Mannschaft still has the best goalkeeper of the Cup, the very best of the world at present times, and a sense of team organization and efficiency that Brazilians will always envy.

Morgan D.
July 1st, 2002