The international football world was taken by surprise
when the United States of America won the draw organized by FIFA’s to host the
world’s marquee sporting event. Waves of disappointed seem to resonate in the
build-up to the World Cup, with fans from all around expressing their outrage
that a country, which referred to the sport as “soccer”, would organize this
prestigious event. Certainly, this decision was a real touchdown for the FIFA
organizing committee in sparking interest in a new, relatively unexploited
market. I did not pay much attention at the time to the politics of the game,
as I was overjoyed to be reunited once again with one of my favourite
traditions. Every great civilization had their calendar and mine was the World
Cup, every 4 years. At this crucial point in my journey, noticing the evident
lack of enthusiasm in most of my peers, I realized that I was not part of some
uniform culture. I seemed to have adopted elements of others I had lived in
trying to make sense of my world. Although I was cheering for what I identified
as my continent – South America – this was not my official home. If the
Brazilian national team routed a top tier squad such as Germany, you would
barely hear a car drive by your house honking its horn in celebration.
Canadians were anxiously waiting during the heat of summer for Hockey Night in
Canada and were somewhat oblivious to football. In Brazil however, if the same
were true, governments and businesses would declare a national holiday to
commemorate the victory and everyone would pour into the streets in
celebration.
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| Diana Ross during the opening ceremonies on Soldier Field, Chicago, USA |
The Americans managed to put on quite a spectacle during the ceremonial inauguration, regardless of foreign sceptics watching from their living rooms at a distance. The opening ceremony was directed by Oprah Winfrey from Chicago’s Soldier Field, where she introduced top performers of the time, Daryl Hall, Jon Secada and Diana Ross displaying their talents to the largest audience in their musical career. I remember Diana Ross strutting down the field, waving her arms, as she was lost herself in the beat of her music, passionately singing away until she met a ball on the opposite end of the pitch, kicked it well wide off the mark and the goal collapsed. She was supposed to direct her kick into the back net and the idea was that the force behind the blast would crack the net in half – that was supposed to be the illusion anyway. It was funny nonetheless. Regardless, I salute the Americans for their outstanding job as hosts, as they managed to set records in average attendance (nearly 69,000), breaking the standing record from the 1966 World Cup in England. The total match attendance of nearly 3.6 million for the final tournament remains the highest in the competition’s history, despite the expansion from 24 to 32 teams in the 1998 World Cup. Shortly after the entertaining show welcoming teams and viewers to the wonderful United States of America, the wait was finally over as defending champs Germany and South American minnows, El Diablo Etcheverry’s Bolivia kicked off. Of course, my key match opener came a few days later as Diego Armando Maradona returned to the football world from retirement in another attempt to lead the Albiceleste to glory and regain his sainthood in the competition.
Their opener was in Foxboro, in
the outskirts of Boston, facing Greece. The Argentines opened with a
star-studded line-up with José Antonio Chamot, Roberto Sensini, Oscar Ruggeri,
Diego Simeone, Fernando Redondo, Abel Balbo, Claudio Canniggia, Gabriel
Batistuta and El Diego. They completely routed the Greeks 4 – 0, leaving
their fans ecstatic and believing that the team could go all the way. Batigol
scored a hat trick but Diego’s cracker was the real highlight celebrating his
comeback. After this match, Juan Alberto, Brian and I took our ball to the
street to kick around, trying to replicate the impeccable Argentine futbol
lindo. The following game, this same line-up struggled to topple Nigeria
easy past them 2 - 1. The Super Eagles put in an outstanding performance
proudly representing the African continent and eventually topped Group D, ahead
of Bulgaria, Argentina and Greece. The end of this game however, signified the
end of an era for Argentines and a knockout punch to the Pampa heroes’ morale.
Maradona was instructed to pack his bags and withdraw from the competition as
he failed a drug test, testing positive for ephedrine doping. He gave a brief
press conference following this disastrous news rocking the world where he
seemed to be at a loss for words - something unusual throughout his life. I
will never forget what he said at that moment: “Me cortaron las piernas (they
cut off my legs).” I felt as if a family member of mine had been shot as my idol was forced out of a game he blessed for years and the first player to ever make me dream as I watched my first ever international fixture. Later on, it was claimed
that Rip Fuel, a supplement he used in training in Argentina, did not contain
the doping ingredient but the US version did. As he ran out during the
competition, he was took the local blend without he or his personal trainer
understanding the difference. He would never dress the colours of Argentina
ever again, a true loss for the beautiful game.
As Argentina carried on, the
players lost their flair and elegance on the field. The motivation, the belief,
and all ingredients of success were packed in Diego’s suitcase headed to Buenos
Aires. The stars seemed to fade along with any hopes of redemption exiting
early in the first stage of the knockout round to Romania. Other teams in the
CONMEBOL such as Bolivia, Colombia (dubbed favourites by former Brazilian
international Pelé) followed the same draconian fate so the hopes of an entire
continent rested on the shoulders of Dunga, the Brazilian skipper and his lads.
For the first time in my life, I saw myself supporting the verde amarelha.
The street footy had turned to Romário and Bebeto, squaring off against the
evil forces of the Netherlands and Sweden. Nothing would stand in the way of
the most coveted trophy on the planet going to South America once again. A
sweet triumph was brewing once more with the little guy taking on the deep
pockets and fat wallets of the industrialized and developed world. Top clubs in
the European leagues may have had exceptional training facilities to develop
their players and long standing academies attracting wonderkids, but the
Brazilians possessed a natural talent that could not be learned. Day in and day
out, it seemed the samba boys were having fun, smiling away and dancing as the
other teams fought to touch the ball. This was the famous joga bonito of
a day I had never had a chance to witness from the country’s golden age. Teams
facing them grew frustrated as they were forced to become spectators.
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| Brazil's National Football Team in 1994 |
On July 17th, 1994, the city of Pasadena,
California was hosting the final, this time between Roberto Baggio’s Italy – a
striker in top form both domestically and internationally – and Brazil. In
Ottawa, the Bickfords and the Marquez got together to watch this fabulous show
unfold, cheering on the South Americans. The only thing Italian in the house
was a pizza we had ordered. Without any offence to the inhabitants of Il Bel
Paese, it was Brazil time to shine that day. It was a long match, not
because of the lack of goals, but the nerves and intensity of the players
radiated out of the television and into our psyche. There were very few clear
chances in favour of the in-form Brazilians and those that were on target met
an invincible Gianluca Pagliuca, keeping his country’s hopes alive. The match
went on to penalties and Italy’s Roberto Baggio skyrocketed his shot far from
troubling Brazil’s Taffarel between the posts, leading in turn to a sea of
yellow and green flooding the field as a the Samba Boys won their fourth title.
The tournament came to a close and we piled into the Marquez’ van driving down
the streets of Ottawa honking the horn and waving the Venezuelan flag in
solidarity with the new champions. Some people waved at our vehicle, perhaps
thinking our country had recently achieved its independence. I was happy my
adoptive continent of South America had once again shown its resilience.
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