Flamengo, the Kool-aid of Brazilian Soccer

You have to love Brazilian's enthusiasm when it comes to soccer. I mean they really get into it. So it's not surprising that you know when there's a game on regardless of looking at a tv. These guys yell when the ref scratches his ass, don't even make me try to explain the reaction when a team misses (or gets) a goal.

Of course you can amplify all this by about 245% when Flamengo is playing. Practically everyone, foreigners and Brazilians alike, are drinking the red and black Kool-aid.

I myself married into a Botafogo family, which has nothing to do with anything. I just like to point it out when I'm being an individualist like the other thousands of Botafogo followers.

Point is, I don't enjoy it when Mr. Rant is screaming for his team but that's one thing. Hearing the entire neighborhood screaming is another. Add to it that it's almost midnight... That does not make a happy Ranter!

Oh well, it's the way of the culture and you have got to love people with passion. I suppose you could say that soccer this society's opium... and beer, and meat, and oxygen, and maybe even sex. 

Not Brazilian in the Morning

There is a period of time when I am 100% American. That time is first thing in the morning.

Brazilians are social creatures regardless of hour. They get all excited when they see other people, start to chat, and basically have a party over pão de queijo.

Take my son's 7:50am soccer class. That is an un-Godly hour for me to be at a child's practice, dressed, and socializing. You get 2 of the three, although today it was basically just one.

You see, I went out in a night shirt and yoga pants. In my defense, I wore a bra!

See this is another way I am American in the morning, I just don't care how I look. You see what you get. Not Brazilians. They don't even go to the gym without looking nice. If a Mom does show up in workout gear it's cute, matching, and definitely does not have coffee stains on it.

Mr. Rant met up with about 20 minutes into soccer practice due to a call of nature and us not wanting to be late. He approached me and offered me his sweater. I told him thanks but I wasn't cold, how sweet of him though!  He said not because of weather but because my shirt isn't legally allowed out of the house, or shouldn't be anyway.

Brazilians.

And then we went to get an after soccer snack. All the parents stood around chatting and their kids snacking at the same table. It was all cute and nice. I, on the other hand, packed my kids up and headed out to the park. Sorry but I can only manage a small wave and a smile at 830am. And before 9am, I don't care about your weekend. No I do not want to hear the gossip. And if you try to touch me I may smack you.

The scary thing, I am the morning person in this house! 

Soccer, it's in Their Blood

My husband is a true Carioca and, therefore, has his soccer team.  There are 4 club teams in Rio de Janeiro: Botafogo, Vasco, Flamengo, and Fluminense.  My husband is Botafogo and so am I. Yes, since I did not have a team, I married into one and my children were born into one. If they should want to switch teams later in life, they may also have to switch Fathers.

So imagine my husband's surprise when I announced that I was enrolling our 4 yr old son into soccer class. I had hardly gotten the last syllable of the word 'class' out of my mouth when he declared that it MUST be with the Botafogo club.

That's all well and good. I totally get where he's coming from. There's a much larger chance of our son switching teams if he is playing for and friends with people from another team.  I hear you Mr. Rant and it is duly noted.

But it's not going to happen.  It's just not practical. When I mentioned that, I was huffed. Oh yes, my husband huffed and puffed and attempted to blow down my logic.  So wasn't going to happen.  But I'm a fair player and I informed him that if he'd like to be late to work twice a week so he could load up our son in the car and drive him to practice, go for it.  I, on the other hand, was going to pick a team in walking distance from my place.

Walking distance, I'm all about it these days. I blame city life and good weather.

Anyway, he was somewhat accepting over the idea of our son practicing at the Fluminense club. It's around the corner from our place and we are members, only because it means a pool on hot days.  That and Fluminense is not a threat. No offense Flu supporters.

But something happened on the way to making that happen. I was invited by a friend to have my son try out beach soccer, also near our place.  Well, that just sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than regular soccer, plus my little one would actually be able to play around on the beach while we watched.  Score!

Imagine my husband's surprise when I informed him that I had found a team my son likes and it's, deep breath, sponsored by Flamengo!  For those of you who don't know, Flamengo is to the other Rio teams as the Isrealis are to the Palestinians.  Sorry honey, we left the Gaza strip for soccer practice.  So wrong, I know.

And it's not just my husband! I know my pediatrician's team, the school teacher's team, and basically anyone else in this country that I've spoken to for longer than a minute and a half.

Soccer is a way of life here. Even if you don't actively watch, I'd say 99% have a team they at least say they support.

As for my husband and the beach soccer team, he came and watched the other day.  He saw how happy our boy was out there.  It got the thumbs up.  Because, let's be honest, if there's one thing that makes a Brazilian Dad prouder than his soccer team, it's his kid playing soccer.  

Signs You've Become a Carioca Part 2:

1.  Your children choose rice and beans over Mac & Cheese. Hell, they choose it over everything.

2.  You are "tired" of all the Carnaval stuff and yet go to all the blocos.

3.  You use ceiling fans not air conditioning

4.  You toast your toast in the oven or on a stove top. Heaven forbid you actually buy a toaster

5.  Everything, and I mean everything down to pancakes, is mixed in the blender.

6.  Bleach is your cleaning friend, buckets full of it.

7.  You actually know what they women are doing when the spread the bowl of white stuff all over themselves at the beach.

8.  You have a soccer team, even if you don't watch regularly.

9.  Your bathing suit is smaller than your underwear, for both men and women.  And you strut in it like you are on a runway

10.  You know better than to call your Grandmother in the evenings, her soaps are on. Hell, you're watching them too

For part 1: go here

He's just a little Soccer pawn

Being in a relationship is hard enough, but being in a relationship in Rio de Janeiro when you are cheering for opposing teams, is even harder. 

No, I did not jump the Botafogo ship. I think that would be grounds for divorce in my relationship.  I'm talking about a little situation I noticed at my kids' school. 

There's this sweetheart in my oldest's class that always sports Flamengo shirts.  I took it for granted that his parents are Flamengistas. Hell, his birthday was even Flamengo themed. 

So imagine my surprise today when this little guy comes in wearing head to toe Botafogo gear.  Hmmmmm.  Also interesting information, his parents are recently separated.  I'm guessing one of the two never pushed their team. 

That seems common.  One person in a personal relationship with competing teams has to bow out and take the high road.  Considering Flamengistas don't know where the high road is, it's obvious the Botafoguense would have to. 

Yes, I'm aware that was a low blow and Hello, been married to the guy for almost 7 years now. It's going to sink in. 

The little gossip bird told me that the separation was very amicable.  I really doubt it is under the surface if one parent is throwing the kid Flamengo themed party one day and the next day the other is sending them to school in a Botafogo uniform.  Just saying.  Unless someone has multiple personalities who aren't speaking to each other, no one in the country of Brazil would be that crazy.  And we crazy down here!

Botafogo, Botafogo I hate you, you stink

I give private conversational English classes twice a week.  I heard clanks and bitches from the playroom during my class. My kids were in bed. That could only mean Botafogo is losing. Botafogo is my husband's soccer team.  His priorities go like this: Botafogo (although he'll argue against it), the kids and I, and everything else.

I don't have a problem with it. Soccer is his thing. He's Brazilian, Carioca even, so it's not all that surprising.  I remember when we met abroad and he so casually mentioned that he missed watching his team play.  Later we moved to Seattle and met another Brazilian couple. I mentioned to the wife that I was thinking about ordering the Brazilian soccer league for him so that he could watch at home. That would make him so happy.

She told me not to do it by any means. I thought she was potentially just a bitchy wife.  You know the type. She told me that I'd never see him and that he'd not only watch his team play, but all of them under the excuse that he's homesick and it makes him feel better.

Now that we live here in Rio, I see that she was not lying!  A Carioca's team to a Carioca is like heroin to a heroin addict. Oh, I'm not exaggerating.  Sometimes the trip is good and sometimes the trip is bad. You can never really know until you're on the trip. You have the utmost faith in your team (drug dealer) but they can let you down.  Waaaaayyyy down.

The score is 3 x 2... not Botafogo.  Another point for going out is avoiding a cranky husband. There have been some changes to the plan. I won't be joining my foreigner Mommy friends. The wine bar is a bit too far to walk at night and my Brazilian friends are right down the street. Plus I never get to see my Brazilian friends anymore, they don't kids. They have a life away from parks and nap time.  I think I'll hurry myself out for a beer before my baby wakes up for a 3rd time.  Maybe a screaming 1 yr old will calm a Daddy with a team that lost. Hmmmmm, doubtful but at least I know both of them will survive. 

I do think that obsessions with sport teams should be listed in the vows. For better or worse, richer or poorer, losing or not...