João Paulo Cunha on 'The Dribble': "A spectacular goal"
In his third review from the prison windows, the former congressman writes about Sérgio Rodrigues' book, which uses football as a central theme, "but doesn't fail to describe the horrors of the dictatorship"; "What a good book. In fact, very well written and with complete mastery, not only of the language, but also of the script," assesses João Paulo Cunha; read the full review.
247 - A book about the difficult relationship between a father (Murilo Filho) and a son (Neto), with football as the common thread. "O drible" (The Dribble), by Sérgio Rodrigues, is a book "very well written and with complete mastery, not only of the language, but also of the script," according to João Paulo Cunha.
In his third review written from prison, the former congressman defines the work as "a masterpiece," a story that, "at certain moments, gives the impression of being a true novel." According to Cunha, football is not treated by Rodrigues as an "alienating element," since the author "does not fail to describe the horrors of the dictatorship."
Read the full review below or at João Paulo Cunha's blog:
"The Dribble": a review from the Prison Windows
Life can slip away in a fraction of a second. In football, the distance between glory and infamy is infinitesimal. That's why "football can mirror life," even if "the reverse, for reasons we don't know," isn't true. That's what the book "O Drible" (The Dribble), by Sérgio Rodrigues, published by Companhia das Letras, is about.
Football drives the dramas of the son (Neto), who once felt a certain pride in his father (Murilo Filho). But Neto carries the need to settle some scores stronger than pride. And, even after twenty-six years without seeing each other, the hatred he feels is great (and the more his father talks about the past, the more it grows), to the point of wanting to commit patricide. Neto doesn't forget the beating he once received, the humiliations his father made him endure, and his mother's strange suicide.
Murilo Filho, a famous journalist, the lion of sports journalism, a womanizer, a friend of the great and important figures of his time (Nelson Rodrigues, Mario Filho, Millôr Fernandes), now avoids face-to-face conversations with his son. He uses football to, metaphorically, keep hidden what he never wanted Neto to know. Murilo tries to outmaneuver his son to avoid talking about the "outrage" life dealt him.
The author uses figures from the period to lend an air of realism to the beautiful fiction. At times, it gives the impression that it is a true story.
And the game begins.
If Pelé had scored that goal against Uruguay in the 70 World Cup (the one where he flies past the goalkeeper without the ball, comes back to get it and shoots just wide of Mazurkiewicz's right post), he would have been "a complete god." At that time, Pelé was already tired of "knowing he was a myth, a demigod." But the fluidity of Pelé's body ballet and the goalkeeper's sprawling motion on the ground was more beautiful than the goal itself! And he became even more of a legend after that play. This account of the play, with the image projected by a Telefunken TV, probably with a Brillo pad on the antenna, is exceptionally recounted by Sérgio Rodrigues.
This is the first scene in an attempt to reconcile father and son. Other weekend meetings at the father's farm – sometimes as an extension – will continue, including fishing trips in a lake near the house that will be the setting for the tragic and definitive end of their relationship.
The son, maintaining his active lifestyle, delves into the pop culture of the time, listening to Pink Floyd (he thinks the LP with the cow is the band's best. Yeah, maybe!) and Rick Wakeman with his long, blond hair and the paraphernalia of those multiple keyboards. He cultivates his own band, in addition to sleeping with the maids from the pharmacies, supermarkets, and other shops in the neighborhood where he lives, in the South Zone of Rio.
What's great is that football, the book's central theme, isn't treated as an alienating element. The author doesn't shy away from describing the horrors of the dictatorship. And one of the critical points in the relationship between father and son is precisely Murilo Filho's possible collaboration with the military.
Neto, a professional editor, agrees to write (despite the drama) a true part of his father's story. He's to edit Murilo's book, which deals with the most phenomenal player to ever appear in these parts, a player who, with his psychic abilities, could have been better than Pelé. This player was Peralvo, a mixed-race man, son of a woman from Northeast Brazil and a European man, who arrives in Rio and plays for América. He quickly becomes an idol. Around the time of the 1966 World Cup, the leading figure in sports journalism thought Peralvo was just a promising talent.
But because of life's and football's quirks, Peralvo enters a game as a hero and, right there, ends his career, which never truly began. He became a legend, coexisting with the myth that was real: Pelé.
At the farm, preparing for his end, Murilo Filho can't stop dwelling on a game he's seen playing in his head his whole life: the bad and unresolved relationship with his suicidal wife and son.
Reading "The Dribble" makes me want to correct Jorge Luis Borges when he said that "Football is popular because stupidity is popular." No, master, football is not stupid. Stupid are the idiosyncrasies of life.
What a great book! In fact, it's very well written and demonstrates complete mastery not only of the language but also of the script. A brilliant achievement!
John Paul Cunha
June / 2014