I had a very complicated start coming to term with “The Beautiful Game.” So, why in the world would I be awake at 5am on a Saturday morning writing about my love of soccer? Well, I have some time to kill before Brazil takes on France in an hour in the Women’s World Cup.
I had covered literally hundreds of high school and college soccer games in my professional career before I was asked in 1994 by my boss, “Hey, are you interested in covering the World Cup, we’re getting credentials!!” My next question would create a lifetime of regret. “What’s the World Cup?” Upon being told it was a huge soccer tournament held in the USA that year I replied “No, that’s OK.”
My attitude would change years later, in February, 2006, when I was fixed up on a blind date with a beautiful Brazilian woman and thought one of the ways to her heart would be to learn to love soccer. It didn’t take long. The World Cup Germany was four months away.
The first Brazil soccer game I ever watched was a religious experience. Shockingly, none of the previous soccer I had unintentionally watched or covered as a photojournalist could have prepared me for what I was seeing. It was ballet, poetry, and unlike my preconceived notions, it was every bit as rough and competitive as American football. After that, I followed every game religiously. I knew the players and I knew when it got to the knock-outs what exactly was at stake. I remember being in Ithaca, NY with writer Lorraine Ash as we worked on a book together about Holistic Healers across the USA. During one interview I begged to hit the family room to watch Brazil get beaten by France. It was a dark day. My first profound disappointment with my new love of soccer. The following day, still proudly wearing my Brazilian canary yellow jersey, I walked to a Wegmans for some morning coffee. From a car I heard a shout, “YOU’VE GOT A HELL OF A LOT OF NERVE WEARING THAT JERSEY!!!” My head whipped around looking to respond with some four letter words. Instead, I saw the driver waving, proudly wearing his England jersey. The ‘Three Lions’ had also lost that previous day, so in this moment I found a moment of kinship in our mutual love and pain that I would feel every four years from that day on.
I fell in love with soccer and chose my teams. Brazil, USA, Flamengo. In that order. Since then, there have been many highlights and memories. I found opportunities to photograph soccer games instead of ignoring and avoiding them. On August 10, 2010, I photographed Brazil vs USA at MetLife Stadium. I photographed an 18-year-old named Neymar scoring his first goal as a member of the Brazilian National Team. I was so blown away by his performance that night, I paraphrased music critic Jon Landau posting, “I have seen the future of Brazil soccer and it’s name is Neymar.”
PHOTO GALLERY:
In 2014, I made my yearly trip to Rio de Janeiro to visit my Brazilian family. That year, World Cup Brazil’s festive atmosphere was palpable as thousands upon thousands descended on Rio and 11 other venues. It was the party of a lifetime. We watched (in horror) at a World Cup Fan Fest as Brazil took a beating from Germany, ultimately losing 1-7. The most unique (and shocking) thing about the aftermath of the loss to Germany was I learned the competitiveness between Argentinians and Brazilians, so much so that Brazilians were actually routing FOR Germany during the finals at Maracana Stadium.
I’ve made my peace with soccer. Calling it “football” still seems sacrilege, but there’s no arguing it is truly the “Beautiful Game.”