7WWHiJ1u_400x400In all the years I’ve been reporting from Brazil there is one subject I regularly tried to avoid writing about.

That subject is politics and the reason is simple: Who gets elected president in Brazil doesn’t matter that much and for that reason Brazilian politics is rarely interesting to outsiders.

Brazil is the world’s seventh biggest economy but it is relatively unimportant when it comes to geo-political matters. No one in Beijing or Washington or Berlin believes their world will change – much less THE world – if Aecio beats Dilma or vice versa. Brazil is more important than outsiders think, but less important that Brazilians want to believe.

There are a lot more journalists and wannabes in Brazil now than there were 12 years ago and that means there is a lot more coverage and a lot more bias.

In addition, elections can be interesting because of the personalities involved and this ballot provoked an unusual amount of interest because of Eduardo Campos’ tragic death, the rise and fall of Marina Silva, and the last-minute comeback by Aecio Neves.

But like most of the elections this century, it doesn’t really matter who wins because both candidates have remarkably similar policies. They both promise continuity, albeit with very different styles. (This BBC guide explains how little difference there really is between the two parties.)

The economy will keep stuttering along – faster if Aecio wins, slower if Dilma does – and inequality will continue to fall – faster if Dilma wins, slower if Aecio does. Public security is largely a state issue, and the big changes necessary in education have to come at state and municipal level. Neither candidate can hope to end endemic corruption and although foreign policy might change slightly who really cares?

The key issues facing Brazil – a modernisation of the justice, health and education systems, along with lower taxes, less corruption, a much-needed reduction in violence and a massive increase in infrastructure spending – are the same ones as one or even two generations ago.

Those changes are not going to happen under the current dysfunctional system in which 28 parties in Congress force laborious negotiations on every little issue.

What Brazil needs is a bold overhaul of its political system and more public participation.

And there’s nothing that a new president can do about that.

dilma4Brazilians voted for a new president on Sunday night, with Dilma Rousseff coming out top in the first round ahead of Aecio Neves and Marina Silva.

Dilma took 42 % and will face Aecio, who got 34 %, in a run off on Oct. 26. (See all results here.)

It was a depressing moment for me, with voters opting for Dilma, in spite of the fact that during her administration the economy has slowed, she’s done nothing to make Brazil more open or more attractive to the outside world, and the incredible changes brought about by her predecessor have slowed noticeably.

Not that voters had much option. Aecio is distant and relatively unknown outside his heartlands of Minas and Rio and he heads a party that has been stagnant for years in terms of leadership and ideas.

Marina was a change candidate, but is riven with contradictions and allows religion to play way too much of a role in her political life.

Most disappointing of all was the fact that the June 2013 protests, where millions took to the streets to demand lower bus fares, better public services and less corruption, were, as I’ve been saying for a year, nothing more than a few days of fun and frolics.

Those demands were forgotten completely and Brazilians were happy to elect the same old tired, questionable, right-wing, anti-progressive candidates who oppose abortion, gay marriage, police reform and other basic issues that are absolutely necessary if Brazil is to become a modern society.

As the results came in, I riffed on twitter with the following 10 unbelievable things I was seeing.

1 – SP reelect Geraldo Alckmin resoundingly after brutal police crack downs and as drought approaches.

2 – Failed mayor Cesar Maia comes second in Rio Senate election.

3 – Rio put Crivella in gubernatorial run off against Pezao. The candidates were bad, but Crivella!?

4 – 41 % of Brazilians still vote for Dilma as growth falls, inflation rises and there’s absolutely no sign things will change in new term.

5 – A third of Brazilians see the PSDB – a party that has gone 8 years with no new leaders and no new ideas – as a viable alternative.

6 – It is frightening that in a major 21st century democracy all of the leading candidates are anti-abortion.

7 – A woman who consults God before making policy decisions may help decide who is Brazil’s next president. Now, that’s worrying.

8 – SP is one of Brazil’s most educated states. The 3 most voted deputies are a former TV salesman, a clown and an outspoken anti-gay pastor.

9 – Many people thought the June protests were a harbinger of a new Brazil. They were nothing more than a big fight/party over bus fares.

10 – And the most unbelievable thing to me about Brazilian elections is…..People take religious leaders seriously.

Bonus 11 – Rio de Janeiro, the “coolest” state, voted as No.1 deputy Jairo Bolsonaro, an unapologetic, right-wing, anti-gay misanthrope. Sigh

My twitter: @adowniebrazil

Brazil’s Superior Court of Superior Court of Sporting Justice kicked Gremio out the Brazilian Cup on Wednesday after some of their fans racially abused Aranha (pictured below), the goalkeeper with rival club Santos.

It was the heaviest penalty ever imposed on a Brazilian football team for racist acts and it was about time. (See more in my Reuters story here.)

aranha_It’s interesting to hear the reaction from fans, many of whom believe the club should not be punished for the crass acts of a few racist idiots. The general feeling seems to be that the ban is either unfair or unnecessary.

Gremio fans are not racist. The club has banned the offending fans so it shouldn’t be punished again. The club shouldn’t be punished for something it can’t control. Why is the club punished when fans call players monkeys but not when fans call players gay/fat/ugly? The Court only kicked Gremio out the competition because they were 2-0 down from the first leg and wouldn’t have qualified anyway.

These are some of the things I’ve been told over the last 24 hours.

But they miss the point.

The simple truth is that if you want to end racism you have to take serious action and you must make fans realise their actions have consequences. Until now, all the punishments have been too weak. Fines, bans, etc. They haven’t worked.

Not only does kicking Gremio out the tournament embarrass the club, it has two key side effects. One is that other teams can see the Court is serious about attacking the problem. Racist fans will think twice about spouting abuse.

Just as importantly, it can empower “good” fans. The next time someone shouts “Monkey” at a football match there’s every chance that other fans will shout them down, well aware that if they’re caught their team will lose points or be disqualified.

The important thing now is that the Court imposes similarly heavy penalties – including disqualification if necessary – on teams whose fans are found guilty or racism.

The Court should be applauded for its action. Consistency now is what matters.

If you invite people to a party and tell them there will be champagne, caviar, limousines to take them there and back, and a pool in which to frolic, you can’t celebrate how great the party was if you make them take the bus and then offer them warm Coke and a bag of crisps.

That’s a bit like what Brazil is doing following the success of the 2014 World Cup.

20131018_123654The tournament was undoubtedly the best World Cup in years, thanks in large part to the number of goals, the most per game since France in 1998.

It was also down, as I predicted here last December, to the warm and welcoming atmosphere offered by the host nation.

Many predicted a general administrative and organisational debacle and that never happened.

But to celebrate Brazil’s handling of the event without mentioning the broken promises is too much.

This was a golden opportunity for Brazil to add the infrastructure it badly needs. But half the public transportation projects they promised were not completed and many of them never will be.

Some of the airports they were going to build were not ready and at least four of the stadiums will be white elephants. Almost all were built with public money and are being handed over to private enterprise to profit from.

Two viaducts fell down because they were so badly constructed or rushed, and two people were killed. Another eight died while rushing to finish the stadiums, almost all of which were delivered behind schedule and over budget.

The government also repeated over and over they would respect the right to peaceful protest but they did not. They cracked down on any opposition groups and even rounded people up preemptively on the flimsiest of pretexts the night before the final.

Brazil deserves credit for pulling off a successful World Cup.

But we must not lose sight of the fact that success is down to constantly reduced expectations. (See this great piece about Brazil’s national trait of promising a lot and delivering a little.)

Much of what we were promised was not delivered. And much of what we were told was lies.

More than a day later and the overpowering sense is still one of disbelief.

Marcelo and Maicon looked lost on the flanks, David Luiz’s inability to concentrate was so bad it was almost laughable, Dante was a boy against men, and midfielder Fernandinho, the worst of the lot, put in one of the most inept displays I’ve ever seen from a Brazil player (and I saw Rafael Scheidt).

But I am not a coach and as a long-time resident of Brazil I see the psychological and social reasons for this catastrophic defeat more clearly than I see the football ones.

One of the explanations for this loss is that Brazil is a country where emotion always trumps reason and the already disastrous defeat seems worse than it is because Brazil’s manager, and as a consequence many of the fans, failed to show, or even to understand, that humility is a key factor not just in sport but in life.

Brazil were already under huge pressure to win this game but they turned up with their minds elsewhere, worrying about Neymar.

That is understandable for fans, who felt the loss of their best player. But it’s unacceptable for a team of multi-millionaire footballers who have all excelled in their own right.

All of the players and even the 60-something manager, entered the stadium wearing baseball caps with the hashtag #ForçaNeymar, or #StrengthNeymar.

Captain for the day David Luiz held up Neymar’s No. 10 shirt as the teams lined up for the national anthem. It was an admirable gesture but an infantile one just moments before the biggest game of his life.

While the Germans were concentrated on the task at hand, the Brazilians were fretting over their friend and of what might have been. Their minds were elsewhere. They lacked focus. (As Dante admits in this piece.)

Any hammering at home is disastrous but this one was especially bad because it was so completely and utterly unexpected. Brazil had never lost seven goals in 84 years of the World Cup.

And yet defeat happens. Only clowns espouse that truculent line so beloved of American coaches (and Felipão) that second place is the first loser. We all lose every day, at work, in love, in traffic, in the race to get to the front of the supermarket queue. We lose, therefore we are.

Many of Brazil’s fans, egged on by Felipão, who has for more than a year been repeating that “We will win the World Cup, there is no other option” never wanted to consider the idea of failure.

(See this astute story on the national trait of promising too much and failing to deliver.)

Brazilians are eternal optimists and they believe. More worryingly, they believe that if you believe then everything will work out. But that’s not true and faith is often misplaced or blind.

And yet there were good reasons to consider Brazil favourites. They are only team to win the World Cup five times, playing at home, in a continent where no European nation has ever won the trophy.

What Brazil lacked was humility and they paid a price for it. It is harder to humiliate the humble.

A little less arrogance from Felipão and the fans and pundits who still think that Brazil is the world’s dominant football power, who have refused to understand that this is not 1970 or even 1982, who don’t know that the game has moved on and Brazil still produces craques in spite of not because of their clubs and coaches, would have saved a lot of heartache. “We want to win, but there are other good teams in this competition,” would have been a more honest and more humble message than “We win this and we go to heaven or we lose it and we go to hell,” as CBF president Jose Maria Marin said.

Life is rarely about all or nothing, whatever Nike tells us.

(Unfortunately, the delusions continue, with Felipão saying Brazil will bounce back, rather than acknowledging root and branch changes need to be made. Predictably, the people who run the CBF have yet to appear in public.)

The dust will settle and Brazil will examine the reasons for this defeat. I sincerely hope a good look at emotion vs. reason and humility vs. arrogance will be part of the debate.

Confidence is necessary at the highest levels of sport and emotion is a fundamental quality and one of which Brazilians can be proud. But it had no place on the football pitch on Tuesday, and if it did, it should have been tempered with a large dose of modesty.

Brazil may still have lost to an excellent German side. But the loss need not have hurt quite so much.

This is an ode to David Luiz.Brazil's Luiz celebrates after scoring a goal against Colombia during the 2014 World Cup quarter-finals soccer match at the Castelao arena in Fortaleza

I’ve interviewed a few footballers in my time and even the polite ones can’t hide the fact that they’d rather be somewhere else.

Sometimes, when they’re faced with a scrum of reporters asking stupid questions and quite literally fighting for every inch of space,  I totally get it.

Sometimes, in a one-on-one arranged by their sponsors, they make it plain they are going through the motions.

Sometimes, when they can, like in the mixed zone, they take the opportunity to simply just ignore you.

Worst of all is when they unthinkingly trot out cliches that have little to do with the questions you’ve just asked them.

Which is why I absolutely adored David Luiz.

I can’t pretend to know him. But I came across him recently and he was everything the players alluded to above are not.

We were in a scrum of reporters. In these situations, reporters shout out questions the split second there’s a pause. (And sometimes before there’s a pause.) Everyone is speaking on top of each other. The players have to decide which person to answer and which to ignore. Usually the one shouting the loudest is the one that gets the attention.

There was about 30 of us standing in front of Luiz and I asked my question at exactly the same time as another girl on my left. Luiz looked at me, motioned to hold on a second, and turned to address the girl. He answered two or three of her questions.

The second she finished everybody shouted out new questions. Luiz held up his hands to them all as if to say, Wait a second. And turned to me.

I was taken aback. It was such a small gesture, but such a polite one, and so alien to every other press scrum I’d ever been in, that I almost forgot my question.

I’ve seen him a few times since then both on and off the field and and he has never been anything less than polite and charming. The way he comforted James Rodriguez after Brazil had beaten Colombia was impressive.

In a world where footballers’ world view is seen through the selfie and where worth is measured solely in pounds and euros, Luiz is a star.

He’s no Pat Stanton, but he’s almost enough to restore my faith in footballers.

The 1994 World Cup was strange for many reasons. It was the first without Scotland for 20 years. (Seems strange nowadays, but true back then.) And I was living in Haiti. (Which was strange. Period.)

Living in Haiti was always exciting but it was never easy. Normally we got about eight hours of electricity a day, from around midnight to 8am.

For the months leading up to the World Cup they rationed electricity even further. The Haitian military ruled the country and they knew you couldn’t mess with the World Cup. They wanted to make sure all the games would be on live. If they weren’t, they knew all hell could break loose.

hotel-oloffsonIn the weeks and months before the tournament kicked off we got three or four hours of electricity a week, and you never knew when that would be.

I usually knew when the electricity was back by the sound of the fridge motor starting up, or the overhead fan whirling. My roommate and I had bought a car battery and that recharged enough to give us juice to keep our computers running and the odd bit of music if we were lucky. (Bonnie Raitt’s Luck Of The Draw was the album I most recall playing on my old boom box.)

The World Cup, when it started, was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Haitians love football and they usually support Brazil, Argentina and the Africa sides. (More than 90 % of Haitians are black.)

When Brazil won, thousands of people took to the streets to celebrate. The military government had banned any large gatherings but they turned a blind eye to this one. People shot their guns in the air to celebrate. The brave ones held their hands in the air, fingers splayed in the No. 5. That was ostensibly for Brazil’s 5th World Cup win. But it was also a show of support for Jean-Bertrand Aristide, the deposed president who was No. 5 on the ballot papers four years previously.

With a US invasion looming – American troops would arrive two months later – I wasn’t paying full attention to the football. After all, Scotland weren’t there so there was no one to cheer for and neither were England so there was no one to cheer against.

But I do remember one sunny Sunday sitting on the balcony of the famous Oloffson hotel (pictured above), the hotel made famous in Graham Greene’s novel The Comedians. I was having lunch with the Venezuelan ambassador and all of a sudden a big roar erupted from the favelas aroundabout. She was freaked (unexpected noise usually meant violence in Haiti) but I knew it was football.

This had just happened:

I went to see a few games of football in Haiti but the standard was pretty low, and I was used to watching Hibs. So when I think of Haitian football, I think of the 1974 World Cup and Emanuel Sanon.

It’s the celebrations that get me every time.

In May 1990 I gave up my job to travel around the world. But before I even started, I put on my kilt, strapped on my backpack, bought a Eurorail ticket and went to the World Cup.

I spent three weeks traveling about Italy, watching games, eating and drinking well, and meeting people from all over the world. I had an absolute ball.

When I got to Genoa for Scotland’s first game against Costa Rica the city was quieter than I imagined. But as I got closer to the city centre, the noise level gradually increased until I turned a corner into the main square and the singing hit me. Hundreds of Scots were in the fountain (and thousands more were in the bars round about it). I got right in there.

(See some great pics from Fraser Pettigrew here at his flickr account.)

The atmosphere was a bit more subdued after we lost 1-0 but we cheered up a few days later. Scotland played Sweden and fans from both countries got together in the main square before the game and marched to the ground, led by a few jokers playing pipes and drums. The atmosphere was unbelievable. Anyone who equates football with hooliganism would not have believed their eyes at the friendship between the two groups of fans. (And I’ve seen it many times since.)

We won 2-1 that day and although I had a late train to catch, I wanted to celebrate. (You don’t get many chances to celebrate Scotland winning in the World Cup.) I remember spending the night in the train station, a little bit drunk, but very happy). The boom box playing Rod Stewart’s Greatest Hits never let up all night.

I’ll never forget Scotland breaking our hearts again, losing a late goal on a cold and rainy night in Turin to go down 1-0 to Brazil and get knocked out. Once again, we were so close and yet so far.

I got about a bit between Scotland games. I was there in Naples when Rene Higuita lost the ball to Roger Milla and the Cameroonian pensioner danced with the corner flag. It was so hot the chap stick inside my sporran melted.

I spent an afternoon with The Scotsman hack Aidan Smith and we patiently explained to Napoli fans on a tram that Hibs put five past them when Dino Zoff was their goalie. I juggled oranges outside the Estadio Sao Paolo and made enough to buy pizza and wine.

I bumped into Brazil captain Branco as he went to lay a wreath at Superga, the hill where the Torino team perished in 1949 after their plane crashed into the hillside.

I saw Ireland beat Romania on penalties and played keepie uppie with Brazilians in the main square in Turin. I taught them a thing or two that day.

Most of all, I realised that if you don’t worry too much about the football, you can have a rare good time at the World Cup. It was a realisation that has served me well in the years since.

1986 was the first time I’d ever heard anyone talk about a group of death and naturally, it was Scotland who had the bad luck to be stuck in it. We got West Germany, Denmark and Uruguay; a two-time winner, the most exciting young team in Europe and the hardest of all the South Americans.

I was 19 when the Mexico World Cup came around and I remember spending large parts of the tournament in pubs. The opening match on a Saturday night was, I think, Bulgaria-Italy, and I watched it with a group of pals in an Edinburgh hostelry. It was lovely and sunny outside.

Pubs back then used to offer free pints of beer when Scotland scored a goal or when England conceded one. The breweries weren’t daft. They knew they wouldn’t be handing out huge amounts of alcohol. (Scotland scored one goal in three games and England conceded one.)

We were unfortunate to lose the first game to Denmark and then we were well beaten by Germany in the second. We had to beat Uruguay in the third match to qualify as one of the best third-placed sides.

But even though Uruguay had a man sent off in 55 seconds, still the fastest ever sending off in a World Cup, I believe, we couldn’t score. It was tragic. Tragically predictable.

The 1986 World Cup was to have much more significance for me in the years to come. Just four years later I found myself living in Mexico City and it was a great thrill to visit many of the grounds where Scotland (and others) had played.

The Estadio Azteca remains one of the most exciting places on the planet to watch a big football match. Unlike in some other big grounds such as the Maracana, you’re close to the action and no matter where you sit you get a great view. The noise of the crowd at pitch level was deafening.

And then a good while after that, sometime in early in the new millennium, I managed to interview Charlie Batista, the Uruguayan who was sent off after 55 seconds. We had a coffee in Buenos Aires and like two old mates meeting up after decades apart we reminisced happily about that fateful day.

“I was sent off and walked back to the dressing room,” he told me with a big smile. “When the kit man saw me he went mad. What the hell are you doing here, he screamed. The game’s about to start. Get out there! I’ve been sent off, I told. That’s impossible, he shouted, get back out. It took me 5 minutes to convince him the game had started and I’d already been sent off.”

It was funny then. And it’s funny now. But back in 1986 it was just one more chapter in Scotland’s footballing failure.

 

Ah, 1982. A special year for football fans. The year of Socrates, Zico, Falcao and Cerezo. And Paolo Rossi. A year hindsight has informed us was the year that football died.

Well, to be honest, I missed most of the 1982 World Cup. Or at least I can’t remember most of it. It was a glorious summer, if memory serves. One of the few memories I have is only seeing the last few minutes of Brazil-Argentina or Brazil-Italy because I was out playing golf.

Ah, and of course of those brief moments of excitement when David Narey put Scotland ahead against Brazil. Even he could hardly believe it.

Still, the 1982 World Cup served me well. Since I moved to Brazil I’ve met some of the players (that’s a young me and Zico below) and written about the tournament quite a bit. It still sticks in people’s minds because of the demise of that great Brazil side.

ZIco and meThe best story from the 1982 World Cup is doubtlessly apocryphal but it still deserves telling. Scotland go one-nil up against Brazil and as the Scottish players run to congratulate David Narey on his goal one of them screams at him, “What did you go and do that for? You’ll only make them angry!” As so it came to pass. The goal stung Brazil into action and they scored four without reply against a pretty decent Scotland side. It was football as it was meant to be played.

Second best story from that World Cup has more of a whiiff of truth about it. Scots and Brazilians met on the beach somewhere in Spain and a football match soon started. Brazil were favourites, of course. But the Scots won. 1-0. “We scored a goal and then just kept booting the ball in the sea,” said one Jock.

Ah, whae’s like us?

 

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