From the Centipede to the Rat Hunter – How Brazil’s longest suffering club escaped from the wilderness
Welcome to football in the north east of Brazil…
June 12, 2014. England against Brazil in the opening game of the World Cup. Surprisingly the stands at the Arena Corinthians in Sao Paulo are almost entirely empty…
This week I’m joining thousands of other quilombola and indigenous people on the streets of Belém, a city in the northern Pará State, to take part in a three-day protest to highlight the Brazilian government’s unnecessarily long bureaucratic delays in granting quilombola communities legal title to their own land.
A trickle of sweat runs down my chest. Distant rumbles of thunder trigger an Amazon orchestra. Crickets, cicadas and grasshoppers whine in desperate anticipation.
To begin, a health warning. Regular readers of this column, if such things exist, should make a mug of strong, sweet tea and find a sturdy armchair in which to settle.
Winning the Confederations Cup has surely never been commemorated with quite so much gusto.
On Monday, I joined thousands on the streets of São Paulo to protest against the brutality used by Brazil’s military police as they confronted students demonstrating against rising bus fares. Thousands joined us across the world in support – 2,000 marched in Dublin, 600 in Berlin, as well as many more in other cities.
With apologies to Donna Summer, this time we know it’s (almost) for real. At least for Brazil.
The ghost at the feast: Luiz Felipe Scolari hopes that dropping Ronaldinho for the Confederations Cup won’t come back to haunt Brazil
There was no place for Kaká, Alexandre Pato of Corinthians, Chelsea’s Ramires, and, most perplexingly of all, Ronaldinho Gáucho
Rio de Janeiro? As stale as yesterday’s päo de queijo. São Paulo? As cutting edge as a mid-nineties Now That’s What I Call Music CD. These days, the footballing place to be in Brazil is Belo Horizonte.
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