I couldn’t wait to see Brazil on Tuesday. I wanted to see the Brazilians fly through the air, move their feet and play to a rhythm like no one else in the world. I wanted to see Brazil’s soccer team play, too.
It really is hard to say which is more impressive, Brazil’s defending World Cup champion or its fans. This has absolutely nothing to do with Brazil being the birthplace of the thong bikini and all World Cup Brazilian women – obviously models right off Ipanema Beach – finding their way into TV shots advertising Brazil’s fine swimwear.
Brazilian journalists can’t seem to put a number on it, but Brazilians are all over Germany, even in cities where Brazil isn’t playing. Here in Dortmund, the only ugly German town I’ve visited, I was blinded by a massive wave of yellow the minute I stepped from the train station. I saw women wearing giant green- and-yellow feather boas. I saw men carrying the large, curved wooden horns used by Amazonian Indians. I missed Clovis Fernandes, the Brazilian fan who carries a gold replica World Cup trophy to every Brazilian game. Closer to the stadium, I saw some of them dancing in a circle.
But Brazilians don’t just dance. They samba. That’s not easy. I tried it once in Rio and absolutely leveled a table of four and their caipirinhas. I blamed it on the drink; the Brazilians I decked thought it was cute. That’s a little insight into the typical Brazilian, always looking for a party, always looking for a place to move. There is no better place to combine the two than the World Cup.
auf Wiedersehen,
John
