David Goldblatt explores the larger-than-life role that soccer plays in Brazil’s culture and history:
Whereas the response of the visual arts in 20th-century Britain to football can be boiled down to a single Lowry canvas, football has appeared in the oeuvre of dozens of Brazil’s
leading artists—from the nationalist surrealism of Cândido Portinari to the abstract geometries of Ivan Serpa to the pop art of Claudio Tozzi. Its writers and novelists have, again and again, found space for the game in their literary landscapes: from Mário de Andrade’s Macunaíma, to José Lins do Rego’s epic saga of life on Rio’s periphery, Água-mãe, from the urbane and witty crônicas of Clarice Lispector to the sharp short stories of Edilberto Coutinho’s Maracanã, Adeus.
The game has also been a thread and connector across the many spheres of Brazilian life. João Cabral Melo Neto was a diplomat who wrote poetry and his poetry featured Pelé. Pelé, a footballer, has gone on to be a businessman, the minister of culture, and a singer and composer. The composer Ary Barroso crossed over into football commentary and then to municipal politics. Politicians regularly seek the presidency of clubs, while club presidents try to make the transition to formal politics. The crowd can become musicians, while musicians have endlessly written and composed songs for players and clubs. Poets and dramatists commentate on football. Football commentators like Washington Rodrigues and João Saldanha have become coaches.
Ilan Stavans asks why the sport doesn’t feature more prominently in Latin America’s canon of great literature:
I can’t quite explain why there aren’t more fine literary artifacts on fútbol in Latin America. In contrast, the number of classic baseball novels in the United States is astounding, from Bernard Malamud’s The Natural (1952), to Robert Coover’s The Universal Baseball Association, Inc. (1968), to Michael Chabon’s Summerland (2002). This is because the game is seen as a kaleidoscope of the American Dream, the platform through which not only immigrants but various ethnicities make their way into the melting pot. Latin America isn’t known for its social mobility. Perhaps the reason for this scarcity is that until recently, soccer in Latin America was a poor people’s sport. TV, of course, has changed that. The sport might make players like Uruguay’s Luis Suárez and Mexico’s Chicharito rich, but it still isn’t seen by young athletes as a ticket to a college education. Nor is it perceived as an environment where people from different ethnicities find a common ground.
The Dish 