Overseas Briefing

Author: Lizz Herron-Sweet

Rio De Janeiro- Brazil is a country made famous by its beautiful women, but nobody mentions the men. The Brazilian man must not be judged for his looks, as they are usually unimpressive, but instead by his futebol skills and passion for the game. With this in mind, my family decided on my second weekend here that it was time to take me to a game at the famous, infamous and glorious Maracan„. For the uninitiated, the Maracan„ is the biggest soccer stadium in the world, built for the 1950 World Cup, and has been the site of many historic moments and crowds. In the final of the 1950 Cup, over 200,000 fans packed in to see Uruguay upset Brazil, a number that has not been matched anywhere since. Due to collapsing sections of the stadium and riots and deaths over the years, the official seating capacity is now down to about 100,000, and it mostly hosts club games of the Rio teams Fluminense (my family's team), Flamengo, Botafogo and Vasco da Gama.

The game I went to see was Fluminense-Vasco. I thought I knew what to expect, but the scene outside the stadium was only the first thing to shock me. I have never seen such a massive, chaotic and rowdy tailgate, with the camps so decidedly split between black and white on one side of the stadium, and green and maroon on the other. Finding parking took about 45 minutes, and as we rushed to the Fluminense side of the stadium we had to keep dodging off the sidewalk as herds of drunken young men sprinted together chanting and looking for an opportunity to fight. They were usually broken up by the police, a presence that was exceptionally visible. I saw about fifteen military police vans, police on horses, police with dogs, police with sticks, police tackling people. I'm not sure if they made me feel safer or not.

I got my ticket at student's half price (about $8) and joined the masses filling the stadium. Entrance security was minimal, and I could not believe the items that were allowed inside - from 50-foot long flagpoles to dozens of steel drums to fireworks. Before the game even started the banner-wavers were parading in the stands, the drums were pounding and the chanting contest between the two halves of the stadium had begun. When the teams appeared on the field, red and green sparklers shot up on all sides, permanently obstructing our view with smoke. As the game progressed, I was exhilarated to be in the presence of thousands of Brazilians reveling in their national passion. I felt the same anger and disgust, joy and admiration of the green and maroon Brazilian mass surrounding me.

Fluminense pulled off a beautiful goal in the second half and the game ended in a tie, probably the best result to prevent a riot. When my family asked me what games in the U.S. were like, I couldn't think of an American sporting event that even compared to that everyday Rio club team competition. All I can say is that Brazilian men may not be sexy, but their futebol stadium sure is.