Mineiraço

Its a dark time to be Brazilian.

Or is it?

Since yesterday I have read many articles, chuckled ruefully at a lot of memes, about Brazil's defeat at the hands of Germany.  Really, that's putting it kindly.  A lot of people gave up on Seleção after Neymar was carried off the field in the narrow win against Colombia but the entire stadium had turned against the players in canary by the game's close.  They stood for their conquerers-perhaps ironically-and scorned the conquered, leaving them to bleed on the field.

I'm not Brazilian, so I don't understand their pain.  I've only recently started watching the sport, so I try not to join in the discussion over technique or strategy or the future of futebol. But I do have to say this: for a country that proclaims to love the sport and love its players, it is surprisingly disloyal.

Well, not surprisingly.  Those fans displayed commendable restraint by not setting the stadium on fire.  They have been calling this the Mineiraço, a throwback to the 1950 Maracanazo, when Brazil lost to Uruguay in the finals at home. 

So I've already established that I don't know much about the Brazilian identity regarding soccer, and that my understanding of the sport is limited.  However, it seems to me that a love means loyalty, applause even when you lose.  As an athlete myself, I can tell you that a crowd on your side is another player in the game.  A silent crowd will sap your energy, sink you into a depressive, hopeless state.  But a crowd that roars your name, that chants for you, that hollers insults to the other side, can pick you up, and make you feel like a god.  In dire moments, it can make you believe.  When you've forgotten how, it can teach you to be a team again. 

Where'd y'all go?

The Brazilians left their players for dead after Germany scored four goals in, like, ten minutes.  Daunting, sure, but no matter how much you glorify them, those eleven players (plus the ones on the bench, and the one thats out with a broken vertabrae and the one that got himself banned) are human, not gods.  And you haven't loved them.  You can't just cheer for them when they win and call that love.  For them, it was a valiant effort.  They just weren't ready, not without their captain, and not without their star player.  Coach Scolari had expressed doubts about their emotional stability, and then downplayed it later. 

Imagine the pressure, the enormous force dumped upon their shoulders.  Playing for glory in their own home.  Praying for forgiveness two hours later.

Losing is a part of the game.  It's what makes victory even sweeter.  It's a lesson learned, a broken heart that strengthens as it heals.  You could see the players grow frantic, and then give up.  Their legs continued to run, but for them the game was over.  And the crowd didn't try to dispute it.  Crowds are always like that.

The Brazilians didn't deserve to win.  They weren't ready.  Germany simply outplayed them-their passing was more accurate, their defense did more than run around, and they knew it. 

After the game against Colombia, I joked to my friend that 80% of Brazil's chance of winning the title just broke his vertebrae.  Perhaps I wasn't joking.  Brazil has a number of great players, but Germany has a great team.

But I still believe in Brazil.  I believe they will come back, stronger than before.  This has taught them to be wary of relying too much on any one player.  It's a dangerous system.  Perhaps the same fate will befall Argentina.  Perhaps not.  

I still believe in Seleção.