the World Cup cometh, part 2

One of the dream match ups of the 1994 World Cup was the US vs. Brazil, a 2^nd round match up in Stanford stadium that took place on the Americans' Independence Day. Independence Day – the 4^th of July – holds a special place in the American psyche. Nobody, not even Brazil, is going to come waltzing in on the 4^th of July and beat the Americans at home. Nobody, not without a big fight. This would be one game in which the Brazilian supporters wouldn’t dominate the other team's supporters. Would the samba stylists from Brazil prevail, or would the home team rise to the occasion on their special day?

I had recently purchased a “World Cup” T-shirt on sale at Costco. It said “Brazil” in big bold letters. Perhaps because I felt it might be appropriately related to the game we were about to watch, or perhaps because it was a new T-shirt and I just felt like wearing it, I wore it to the game. On the way to the stadium, we passed by some typical American guys who were also on their way there. One of them took a look at my T-shirt incredulously. He did a double-take, then exclaimed “Brazil?!” I just grinned and didn’t say anything – not because he appeared or sounded like a deranged fan looking for a tiff with Brazil supporters; not because I just wanted to let my T-shirt do the talking for me; not because I was thinking, “give it up, loser” and didn’t wish to say anything rude – but … (sigh) … because I was surprised and didn’t know how to respond.

I came to realize that the game would be more than just a bunch of superstar players entertaining the crowd. In that moment, that guy saw “Brazil”, and I saw that it would be really about promoting and exchanging ideas. It may have been portrayed as a clash of the titans, a struggle between nations, a gigantic tussle for bragging rights, and so on, but deep down it was about a debate between two sides, each bringing their ideas to the table. On the one hand, there were the notion that Brazil was a supremely established soccer power, that its players had the better, more crowd-pleasing skills, and that they deserved to go through to the next round. On the other hand, there was the more audacious notion that the US was finally going to break through into the top, that conditions were perfect for the home team to make its move on its Independence Day, and that David would slay Goliath. The match itself would be a debate of these ideas. How fitting in a way that it would be taking place in a university.

Some friends and I, getting into the spirit of the idea promotion and exchange thing, volunteered to give out tracts at some of the World Cup games. The tracts were from a Christian non-profit organization, Sports Christian Outreach, that used sports as a means to spread Christianity. The tracts focused on the story of Jorginho, a Christian defender on the Brazilian team, how he became a Christian and so on (to get people to think "hey, is this cool or what? I want it too..."). We positioned ourselves outside the stadium and handed out tracts to folks going to the game. Most people accepted the tracts. I’m not sure how many read them, though. At least a few folks read the glossy full-color cover, though. They noticed it had a picture of Jorginho in action on it. They came back and, like children pleading for ice cream, asked “Romario? Do you have some on Romario?” The image of star striker Romario on the tract would undoubtedly have been a better crowd puller. But, alas, we had no such other tract. I supposed that Romario was not a believer, or if he was, he maybe thought he was getting more than enough publicity already through his appearances on the soccer field.

Back to the game. Some people had brought a huge Stars and Stripes into the stadium. When unrolled, its shadow covered something like 300 people, behind one of the goal posts. Kel and I were close enough to it that we were almost in its shadow. Being almost but not quite under the shadow of the giant Stars and Stripes was wonderfully symbolic of us students from Asia who were comfortable but never completely at home in the country – a mixing of cultures and exchange of ideas – so I once thought. Now when I think back to it, a flag is a flag is a flag; it was just a big flag. The flag did help us, however, to locate ourselves on TV when we watched the TV coverage of the game later. We had become a part of the global TV coverage of the world cup. I’m proud of that contribution I made to global entertainment!

There was one ugly moment. And it happened so fast that I missed it. Without the benefit of slow-motion replays from multiple video recorders, I think most of those around me missed it too. We didn’t miss the sight of Tab Ramos writhing on the ground, and a Brazilian player standing by him, looking confused. There were scattered murmurs from around the stadium. Other players were going over, and some pushing and shoving was beginning. The referee ran over and took charge, bringing out the dreaded red card. He held it in Leonardo’s face, and Brazil was reduced to ten men. This was right before half-time.

Surprisingly, the 2^nd half begun with Brazil as the aggressor. The yellow shirts made numerous forays deep into US territory. When the US managed to get the ball back, they had trouble even getting it out of their own half. If one Brazilian missed a tackle, another would time the next challenge perfectly, and would gracefully sweep the ball away, just before the US player had time to recover from the missed tackle.

Brazil won the game and went through to the next round, but the after-game talk was all about Leonardo’s elbow's bad date with Ramos’ face. It was like an excellent debate had just taken place, but people were all talking about how one of the debaters had shockingly and unsportingly insulted the mother of one of the other team’s debaters. Who says it’s a perfect world?