'Pickup Soccer in Brazil Has an Allure All Its Own' diff viewer (0/1)

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Pickup Soccer in Brazil Has an Allure All Its Own	Pickup Soccer in Brazil Has an Allure All Its Own
2013-10-19 01:55:30 UTC	2013-10-19 04:50:18 UTC (about 3 hours later)
RIO DE JANEIRO — In Brazil, the ball is always moving. It moves on grass and on sand, on concrete and on cobblestone. Sometimes, during the rainy season, it even moves on water.	RIO DE JANEIRO — In Brazil, the ball is always moving. It moves on grass and on sand, on concrete and on cobblestone. Sometimes, during the rainy season, it even moves on water.
Organized soccer, the kind the Brazilian national team will play next year in the World Cup, is known as futebol (pronounced FOO-chee-ball) in Portuguese. But the pickup variety, the kind played in the cities and the countryside, is called pelada, a term Brazilian men also use to refer to a naked woman. One night last month, a hotel doorman waiting to play at a game in the Flamengo neighborhood here explained the odd symmetry this way: “Football and women,” he said, “are the only two things we really love.”	Organized soccer, the kind the Brazilian national team will play next year in the World Cup, is known as futebol (pronounced FOO-chee-ball) in Portuguese. But the pickup variety, the kind played in the cities and the countryside, is called pelada, a term Brazilian men also use to refer to a naked woman. One night last month, a hotel doorman waiting to play at a game in the Flamengo neighborhood here explained the odd symmetry this way: “Football and women,” he said, “are the only two things we really love.”
The doorman was idling beside an asphalt court. The court was lighted by three dim streetlamps and the glint of the moon. It was nearly 11 p.m., and in the distance, the lights of the Glória and Catete neighborhoods twinkled. Teams were divided into shirts and skins. Games lasted until one team scored a goal or for 10 minutes, with a cellphone alarm beeping to signal full time.	The doorman was idling beside an asphalt court. The court was lighted by three dim streetlamps and the glint of the moon. It was nearly 11 p.m., and in the distance, the lights of the Glória and Catete neighborhoods twinkled. Teams were divided into shirts and skins. Games lasted until one team scored a goal or for 10 minutes, with a cellphone alarm beeping to signal full time.
There was no crowd; just the bay on one side, the highway on the other and a concrete underpass, coated in graffiti and stained the color of dried lager, leading away from the court and back to the city. Before midnight, the game included students, ~~day-workers~~ and beach bums; after midnight, busboys and waiters and valets arrived, kicking and running and sweating their way toward morning. Some played in sneakers or trainers. Others played barefoot, the blisters on their heels a nubby reminder of their devotion.	There was no crowd; just the bay on one side, the highway on the other and a concrete underpass, coated in graffiti and stained the color of dried lager, leading away from the court and back to the city. Before midnight, the game included students, day workers and beach bums; after midnight, busboys and waiters and valets arrived, kicking and running and sweating their way toward morning. Some played in sneakers or trainers. Others played barefoot, the blisters on their heels a nubby reminder of their devotion.
One of the players, a teenager named Lucas Daniel, did not have shoes with him at all. He played languidly, gliding up and down the court on his calloused soles. His team was beaten quickly. Afterward, he sat with his cousin Diego and pointed to the side of his foot. “My toe was dislocated once,” he said. “The ball hit it hard, and it just bent. It hurt so much, I cried.”	One of the players, a teenager named Lucas Daniel, did not have shoes with him at all. He played languidly, gliding up and down the court on his calloused soles. His team was beaten quickly. Afterward, he sat with his cousin Diego and pointed to the side of his foot. “My toe was dislocated once,” he said. “The ball hit it hard, and it just bent. It hurt so much, I cried.”
He laughed. “But then I pushed it back into place. And then I kept playing.”	He laughed. “But then I pushed it back into place. And then I kept playing.”
Lucas and Diego watched the cellphone between them, waiting for their turn to play again. As they waited, they talked about another game, another pelada, with a visitor sitting nearby. This one was situated in the hillside favela where they live, Fogueteiro, up near the bohemian-chic neighborhood of Santa Teresa. Some days, they said, that game starts after breakfast. Some days, it finishes just before breakfast the next morning.	Lucas and Diego watched the cellphone between them, waiting for their turn to play again. As they waited, they talked about another game, another pelada, with a visitor sitting nearby. This one was situated in the hillside favela where they live, Fogueteiro, up near the bohemian-chic neighborhood of Santa Teresa. Some days, they said, that game starts after breakfast. Some days, it finishes just before breakfast the next morning.
“We just play whenever,” Diego said.	“We just play whenever,” Diego said.
“Remember the kid who played so much we called him Neymar?” Lucas said.	“Remember the kid who played so much we called him Neymar?” Lucas said.
Diego shook his head. “What happened to him?”	Diego shook his head. “What happened to him?”
Lucas shrugged. “I don’t know. He was scouted by a big team. I don’t see him anymore.”	Lucas shrugged. “I don’t know. He was scouted by a big team. I don’t see him anymore.”
~~They ~~both~~ paused. That is the dream, of course, the fantasy. Romário, one of the greatest Brazilian scorers ever, played in the streets, too. So did Ronaldo. So did Rivaldo.~~	They paused. That is the dream, of course, the fantasy. Romário, one of the greatest Brazilian scorers ever, played in the streets, too. So did Ronaldo. So did Rivaldo.
Sometimes, scouts come to the favelas and organize a game. Sometimes, a player is picked. Lucas said he once played for one of the junior teams of Flamengo, a popular Rio club, but it did not pan out. “I am too old now,” he said. (He is 16.) “So I just play.”	Sometimes, scouts come to the favelas and organize a game. Sometimes, a player is picked. Lucas said he once played for one of the junior teams of Flamengo, a popular Rio club, but it did not pan out. “I am too old now,” he said. (He is 16.) “So I just play.”
He and Diego looked at the cellphone, and their lips moved silently. Cinco. Quatro. Três. Dois. Um. “You want to see a real street game?” Lucas said to the visitor as the phone began to beep. “Come see us tomorrow. We will show you.”	He and Diego looked at the cellphone, and their lips moved silently. Cinco. Quatro. Três. Dois. Um. “You want to see a real street game?” Lucas said to the visitor as the phone began to beep. “Come see us tomorrow. We will show you.”
Inside the Quadra	Inside the Quadra
The ball moves differently in every city. In Rio, there are games on the beaches and in the favelas and on the aterro, the strip of land between the water and the road. Fred, the forward for the Brazilian national team who scored five goals at last summer’s Confederations Cup, grew up in Minas Gerais and recalled that sometimes the ball he played with was not even a ball at all.	The ball moves differently in every city. In Rio, there are games on the beaches and in the favelas and on the aterro, the strip of land between the water and the road. Fred, the forward for the Brazilian national team who scored five goals at last summer’s Confederations Cup, grew up in Minas Gerais and recalled that sometimes the ball he played with was not even a ball at all.
“I used to make a ball of socks,” he said. “I made one of cardboard. I made one out of plastic bags. Sometimes, it wasn’t even round. We didn’t care.”	“I used to make a ball of socks,” he said. “I made one of cardboard. I made one out of plastic bags. Sometimes, it wasn’t even round. We didn’t care.”
He shrugged. “We would put two rocks or two sandals to make the goal. We would even play on a hill. The goal was always on top, and it was two-on-two or three-on-three, and you would fight to get to that same goal. It was fun. But if the ball went down, you had to run over the rocks.”	He shrugged. “We would put two rocks or two sandals to make the goal. We would even play on a hill. The goal was always on top, and it was two-on-two or three-on-three, and you would fight to get to that same goal. It was fun. But if the ball went down, you had to run over the rocks.”
Pelada has always been a part of Brazilian culture, and it has adapted to the country’s changing face. In São Paulo, for example, the hub for pelada used to be on the edges of the city’s two rivers, the Pinheiros and the Tietê. Players would scamper alongside the water in games that were known collectively as futebol de varzea, or lowlands soccer.	Pelada has always been a part of Brazilian culture, and it has adapted to the country’s changing face. In São Paulo, for example, the hub for pelada used to be on the edges of the city’s two rivers, the Pinheiros and the Tietê. Players would scamper alongside the water in games that were known collectively as futebol de varzea, or lowlands soccer.
As São Paulo developed into a South American business hub, though, it transformed into a vast city, a labyrinth of concrete buildings and tangled streets. That meant open space was at a premium, and so now games have frequently shifted to courts that are penned in on all sides by metal fences. These fake cages are called quadras.	As São Paulo developed into a South American business hub, though, it transformed into a vast city, a labyrinth of concrete buildings and tangled streets. That meant open space was at a premium, and so now games have frequently shifted to courts that are penned in on all sides by metal fences. These fake cages are called quadras.
One quadra sits at a traffic-heavy intersection in the Vila Maria neighborhood, a working-class area in the northern part of the city. The grass around the court is brown and dusty, and the door does not close all the way, so the ball sometimes rolls out toward the cars. Despite the conditions, there was a line of players waiting to play on a recent Saturday afternoon, their backs pressed against the droopy railings in the fence and their feet ready to intervene if the ball tumbled toward the open door. Water breaks — and bathroom breaks — were taken at the gas station across the street.	One quadra sits at a traffic-heavy intersection in the Vila Maria neighborhood, a working-class area in the northern part of the city. The grass around the court is brown and dusty, and the door does not close all the way, so the ball sometimes rolls out toward the cars. Despite the conditions, there was a line of players waiting to play on a recent Saturday afternoon, their backs pressed against the droopy railings in the fence and their feet ready to intervene if the ball tumbled toward the open door. Water breaks — and bathroom breaks — were taken at the gas station across the street.
The game was oddly silent. With five players on each side, there were the occasional shouts for a teammate to pass the ball or a warning that an opponent was approaching. Otherwise, there were just the scuffs and scrapes of rubber soles on concrete. On this smaller court, shots and goals were more frequent than in the ~~game~~ in Rio. Games were played to three goals. No time limit was needed.	The game was oddly silent. With five players on each side, there were the occasional shouts for a teammate to pass the ball or a warning that an opponent was approaching. Otherwise, there were just the scuffs and scrapes of rubber soles on concrete. On this smaller court, shots and goals were more frequent than in the games in Rio. Games were played to three goals. No time limit was needed.
At first, the players were all male. This is standard; the vast majority of games feature only men. At this quadra, one player played in dress pants. Several wore Brazilian club team jerseys, like those of Corinthians and Palmeiras. Outside the fence, sitting on a wood bench, Anesio Cornelo watched his 12-year-old son, Robson, play with men who were two or three times his age.	At first, the players were all male. This is standard; the vast majority of games feature only men. At this quadra, one player played in dress pants. Several wore Brazilian club team jerseys, like those of Corinthians and Palmeiras. Outside the fence, sitting on a wood bench, Anesio Cornelo watched his 12-year-old son, Robson, play with men who were two or three times his age.
“I think this is good for Brazilian players,” Cornelo said, sharing a popular theory. “They play this way, on the court. They learn how to touch the ball, how to control the ball. It is a lot faster here than on a field. They become more skilled than if they just played on grass.”	“I think this is good for Brazilian players,” Cornelo said, sharing a popular theory. “They play this way, on the court. They learn how to touch the ball, how to control the ball. It is a lot faster here than on a field. They become more skilled than if they just played on grass.”
For the most part, that skill was not altogether evident inside the quadra. The game was mostly ragged, with little defending and even fewer moments of quality. It was only when a girl, Clara Chaves, returned from a water break at the gas station and rejoined the game that the level increased.	For the most part, that skill was not altogether evident inside the quadra. The game was mostly ragged, with little defending and even fewer moments of quality. It was only when a girl, Clara Chaves, returned from a water break at the gas station and rejoined the game that the level increased.
Chaves was wearing a Palmeiras shirt. She is 14 and plays for one of the club’s women’s teams in a regional league. She readily admitted that her league — and women’s soccer in general in Brazil — was a work in progress. There is no national league, and the most talented women, like Marta, a five-time world player of the year, earn livings abroad.	Chaves was wearing a Palmeiras shirt. She is 14 and plays for one of the club’s women’s teams in a regional league. She readily admitted that her league — and women’s soccer in general in Brazil — was a work in progress. There is no national league, and the most talented women, like Marta, a five-time world player of the year, earn livings abroad.
Still, Chaves dreams, just as the boys do, and she was sharp and aggressive on the court, chasing the ball deep into the opponent’s end. She played quick, slick passes to teammates on the attack. She scored two goals in about five minutes.	Still, Chaves dreams, just as the boys do, and she was sharp and aggressive on the court, chasing the ball deep into the opponent’s end. She played quick, slick passes to teammates on the attack. She scored two goals in about five minutes.
Chaves began playing at this court when she was 9, she said, and it took a while before she felt comfortable. Initially, the boys and the men targeted her. They pushed her. They jostled her. They tripped her, sometimes when she was so close to the fence that she would fall against the rusty metal. Sometimes, they directed a particularly vile homophobic slur toward her. The treatment brought her near tears at times.	Chaves began playing at this court when she was 9, she said, and it took a while before she felt comfortable. Initially, the boys and the men targeted her. They pushed her. They jostled her. They tripped her, sometimes when she was so close to the fence that she would fall against the rusty metal. Sometimes, they directed a particularly vile homophobic slur toward her. The treatment brought her near tears at times.
On this day, though, she was the best player on the court. Her team won. Then it won again. Then it won again. For an hour, the only girl in the quadra never left the court.	On this day, though, she was the best player on the court. Her team won. Then it won again. Then it won again. For an hour, the only girl in the quadra never left the court.
“The boys treated me that way in the beginning because they think they have some right to play, like this is their neighborhood and they are the only ones who want to be here,” she said. “A lot of men think like that. Maybe someday it will change.”	“The boys treated me that way in the beginning because they think they have some right to play, like this is their neighborhood and they are the only ones who want to be here,” she said. “A lot of men think like that. Maybe someday it will change.”
Chasing the Dream	Chasing the Dream
It must be said: the ball has always had meaning, always resonated far beyond a foot and a goal and a game. As just one example, some believe the roots of Brazil’s attachment to joga bonito, or the tenet that one must “play beautifully” or not at all, was born from the country’s long history with racism.	It must be said: the ball has always had meaning, always resonated far beyond a foot and a goal and a game. As just one example, some believe the roots of Brazil’s attachment to joga bonito, or the tenet that one must “play beautifully” or not at all, was born from the country’s long history with racism.
There was a time, the theory goes, when a dark-skinned Brazilian could not even touch a white man without fear of retribution or punishment. Because of that, some say, the silky, slippery, slinky feints and shimmies that Brazilian players hone while playing pelada were developed as a form of survival: the goal was to be able to get past an opponent without even grazing him, lest a societal code be broken.	There was a time, the theory goes, when a dark-skinned Brazilian could not even touch a white man without fear of retribution or punishment. Because of that, some say, the silky, slippery, slinky feints and shimmies that Brazilian players hone while playing pelada were developed as a form of survival: the goal was to be able to get past an opponent without even grazing him, lest a societal code be broken.
Now pelada remains a form of escape. The notion of a poverty-stricken young boy’s finding fame and fortune after being discovered in a slum is shopworn, to be sure, but that is because there remains some truth to it: Brazil is annually among the nations exporting the most players to foreign professional leagues (nearly 300 in 2011 alone, according to a recent study), and hundreds more play for varying wages in the country’s league system.	Now pelada remains a form of escape. The notion of a poverty-stricken young boy’s finding fame and fortune after being discovered in a slum is shopworn, to be sure, but that is because there remains some truth to it: Brazil is annually among the nations exporting the most players to foreign professional leagues (nearly 300 in 2011 alone, according to a recent study), and hundreds more play for varying wages in the country’s league system.
In more remote places like Manaus, the main city in the Amazon, young players will often leave home, traveling south to bigger cities on the murky advice of a scout or representative from one of the country’s larger teams. There are no guarantees of success or even basic accommodations in these situations, and horror stories abound. In 2012, the São Paulo state club Portuguesa Santista was fined by a Brazilian court for endangering the safety of children, according to a report by the Brazilian investigative journalism center Publica.	In more remote places like Manaus, the main city in the Amazon, young players will often leave home, traveling south to bigger cities on the murky advice of a scout or representative from one of the country’s larger teams. There are no guarantees of success or even basic accommodations in these situations, and horror stories abound. In 2012, the São Paulo state club Portuguesa Santista was fined by a Brazilian court for endangering the safety of children, according to a report by the Brazilian investigative journalism center Publica.
The details were disconcerting: a dozen teenage boys had left their homes in Pará, in the Amazon, to go to the city of Santos on a promise from a scout that they could play in a youth tournament there. Once they arrived, they were crammed into a tiny room, given three mattresses to share and, over a period of several days, provided no food. Once the court intervened, Portuguesa Santista was ordered to either let the boys go home or put them in a proper hotel and feed them.	The details were disconcerting: a dozen teenage boys had left their homes in Pará, in the Amazon, to go to the city of Santos on a promise from a scout that they could play in a youth tournament there. Once they arrived, they were crammed into a tiny room, given three mattresses to share and, over a period of several days, provided no food. Once the court intervened, Portuguesa Santista was ordered to either let the boys go home or put them in a proper hotel and feed them.
In many ways, though, it does not matter. Young boys will forever want to chase the dream, climbing aboard one of the countless small ships that leave from the port of Manaus, and sleeping in tiny hammocks hung from the ceiling for days until they arrive at the next stop on their journey to maybe, possibly, being discovered. To them, that is what pelada can represent.	In many ways, though, it does not matter. Young boys will forever want to chase the dream, climbing aboard one of the countless small ships that leave from the port of Manaus, and sleeping in tiny hammocks hung from the ceiling for days until they arrive at the next stop on their journey to maybe, possibly, being discovered. To them, that is what pelada can represent.
“There is no famous player that everyone in the world knows who came from Manaus,” a talented young player, Kaleb Campelo, said one day in August. “But that does not mean there can’t be someday.”	“There is no famous player that everyone in the world knows who came from Manaus,” a talented young player, Kaleb Campelo, said one day in August. “But that does not mean there can’t be someday.”