A glimpse into a strange world...(Nothing about MLS but a lot on Soccer) Extract of The Ball Game Flamengo versus Vasco Maracanã Marta gave me a nice present the other day. She bought two tickets to the football at Maracanã: Flamengo versus Vasco. This was an important near end of season game. Flamengo were on top and very successful. Vasco needed to win to stay in the hunt for the finals as such. Flamengo has reputedly the largest supporter base of any football club in the world. You soccer experts out there can argue over this, I am only relaying to you what has been told to me by many Brazilians, and not just Flamengo supporters. This is however the largest soccer playing nation on earth so it is not surprising. When I asked some Brazilians how many Flamengo supporters there were, 3-4,000,000 supporters in Rio de Janeiro alone suggested as a reasonable estimate, maybe treble this in Brazil. Flamengo supporters just dominate Rio de Janeiro, the club has been successful. It was established over 100 years old, from a support base in the old and very beautiful suburb of the same name. Similar football clubs (Botafogo, América, Vasco, Fluminense for example) also sprang up from suburbs and ethnic groups in Rio de Janeiro (for example the Vasco football club comes from the explorer Vasco da Gama and was formed from a base of Portuguese soccer players). Flamengo play in red and black horizontal stripes (sponsored by Petrobrás), and Vasco play in white with a single black stripe. Marta is a Flamengo addict, and a member of the club, which is now based in Leblon. We arrive by bus at about 4:15 PM on a Sunday afternoon. It has rained the last few days; the crowd is not expected to be too big, as the weather is relatively cold for Rio de Janeiro. Lots of over exuberant youths running around, the usual food stalls (camelôs) of all types (the most popular is the corncobs, kebabs and sausages, and manioc). Some of the Flamengo supporters are carrying Vasco coffins to bury the opposition supporters. Lots of face painting, banners, flags, jumpers, beanies, etc. Two guys dressed as Batman and Robin with Flamengo jumpers draw a crowd of photographers. We ask for directions from one of the stadium attendant's as to which direction to head to the closest entrance to our seats, and get told to head off in a clockwise direction. Twenty minutes later we have circumnavigated 95% of the stadium (1 mile) to find our entrance (I guess the guy who gave us directions was keen to see all the people moving in the same direction). Lots of young kids trying to scale the fences and get in for free. They are treated pretty reasonably when they do make it over by the police, and summarily ejected. We head inside and the Vasco supporters on the next level of the stadium are throwing Coca-Cola, ice and some bodily fluids (yuk) at some other Flamengo supporters who arrived at the same time as us. This is going to be one of those nights I can feel. The fever is here like any great Coliseum, the smell of courage, victory, defeat, blood, sweat, passion, drama. The stadium is electric. The noise from inside is already very loud. We walk around another 50 meters and then up a ramp and into the inside stadium itself. Finally we walk out and I can see the crowd and it's ………… Oh boy, I am glad I am not a Vasco supporter. There must be at least 20 Flamengo supporters for every Vasco supporter. It is just a sea of red and black everywhere. BANG, what was that………… Firecracker's. VERY LOUD firecracker's. Inside we find some seats, get a drink, peanuts and a corncob. Football spectators are the same all over the world. This is like being at Wembley, the MCG, or Wrigley Field, one of life's great live sporting experiences. I am surrounded by a red and black army, there is tension, drama, anticipation, adrenaline. The stadium flood lighting has come on and its only 20 minutes to start. The samba drums are playing, and then the flares and smoke bombs start. You cannot even see the other side of the ground there is so much smoke and red flares burning and the drums, firecrackers and singing are just so loud. The Flamengo crowd chants "M-e-n-g-o, M-e-n-g-o, M-e-n-g-o, Meeeeeeennnnnnnnnggggggggooooo, Mmmmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnngggggggggggoooooo'`, the Mexican waves start, and the players come onto the field. The crowd just goes ape shit, and starts belting cans and anything else that will make a noise against the metal seats. The noise is just unbelievable. The passion is here in a big way. They call out the names of the players, and some of the players blow kisses to the crowd. They have a special place for the goalie; this guy works the crowd well (he is also very good at his job). The media is here in droves, cameras, video, and goal-cam. There must be at least 4 helicopters overhead with searchlights fanning the crowd. It is awesome. Apocalypse Now! As you would expect, there are a number of constabulary here as well to ensure things go smoothly, but no more than what would be at a big game in Melbourne (well maybe a few more, and carrying a bit more firepower). I notice that no one sits on seats that are in a direct line of fire from overhead seats. OK the game kicks off, Flamengo to our end of the stadium. Marta & I are in the bottom left corner of the football pitch, about 50 meters back from the playing field. Brazilians say the rest of the world plays soccer, and they play football. They attack, take risks, and are very skillful. One guy on the wing for Flamengo is just killing his opposition player (the rest of Flamengo are playing badly, too casual, not chasing, lazy). About fifteen minutes into the game the Flamengo winger is chopped down by his opposition player and he is in agony (shin pads offer minimal protection). He gets up after five minutes, but fades from the game and is replaced after half time. Vasco are playing very well, and their small band of supporters are very vocal in the face of huge opposition. About four yellow cards are issued, and the game is getting spiteful. The game up to half time is back and forward, but Flamengo are not playing well, Vasco looked like scoring about three times, but the Flamengo goalie is very courageous. The score at half time is 0-0 (when I am going to see a goal scored). Marta says the referee is dreadful (she can be so one eyed at times), and suggest that the referee has probably taken a bribe. No formal half-time entertainment, no little league, no cheer squads in leotards, no Dallas cowgirls. The half time entertainment involves trying to pelt the police with firecracker's, flares, smoke bombs, etc. Most of this occurring about 40 meters away, with the major protagonists in the stand above our head in the next tier. The police (mostly black, big and huge Colgate smiles) involved just treat it as a game, laughing, and dodging crackers, and even at one stage hurling a burning flare back into the crowd. All except the Police Sargent who is on the edge of the ground, watching what is happening and talking into a walkie-talkie. He is pointing up into the crowd, and obviously organizing a pincer movement. I cannot see what is happening above me, but the firecracker/flare throwing stops about 3 minutes later and there is a lot of booing coming from above my head. It is never dull. I ask Marta why there are Telerj public telephone booths installed on the playing surface of the ground, in the corners of the field. She explains to me that when a player scores a goal, he is allowed to go to the telephone booth and call toll-free his mother or girlfriend and tell her how is feeling and share the emotion of the moment with them. "Hey Mum, I just kicked a goal for Flamengo, I may be late home tonight, so don't wait up." After half time, the game drops in quality. Flamengo have no passion tonight, they are not playing as a team. Too many solo acts, bad passes, loose in defense, and not seizing opportunities. Marta is just ropeable at the referee, she thinks he must be on the take. More yellow cards. Even Vasco have gone off the ball. But not the crowd. They are trying to lift Flamengo, and are really in full swing. Chanting, the drums, more drums, it is so tribal, primitive, the singing, I love it. But the score remains 0-0. Near the end, Marta thinks we should leave 5 minutes before so as to miss the crowd, and get a seat on the bus. We leave; head outside, and the crowd and skyrockets start signaling the end of the game. I will have to come back some other time to see my first soccer goal live. Bus home uneventful, just lots of noise in the streets, and all the bars are full of soccer addicts watching the replay. Not much sleep this night, the Flamengo supporters are out in droves honking horns, making a racket and just letting off lots of steam. More firecrackers. Next morning the papers report the results, official crowd 86,000.