Why don't we like our star players?

From the Football Blog There are those who dislike the national team. Or worse, there are those who love the Seleção but hate and reject Neymar, managing to dislike what that boy shows on the field. Much of what happens (in football and politics) is not his fault.

Here is an exceptional chronicle by Nelson Rodrigues, written before we won our first World Cup, which perfectly represents this feeling. It's clear that this feeling is not new, but rather an old one, persisting in the hearts of fans, generation after generation, year after year.

Regarding Nelson Rodrigues, I recommend not only this column, but his entire collection of sports-related texts.

Mongrel complex

Nelson Rodrigues

Today I'm going to make the national team my featured character of the week. The players have already left, and Brazil wavers between the most obtuse pessimism and the most frantic hope. On street corners, in bars, everywhere, there are those who shout: "Brazil won't even qualify!" And here, I ask:

Could this negative attitude be a disguise for an unconfessed and embarrassed optimism?

Here's the truth, my friends: since 50, our football has been ashamed to believe in itself. The defeat against the Uruguayans in the last match still causes suffering, in face and soul, to any Brazilian. It was a national humiliation that nothing, absolutely nothing, can cure. They say everything passes, but I tell you: except the heartache we feel from the 2-1 loss. And it's hard to believe that such a small score could cause such great pain. Time has passed in vain since the defeat. It would seem like it was yesterday, and not eight years ago, that Obdulio, shouting, snatched the title from us. I said "snatched" as I could say: "extracted" the title from us as if it were a tooth.

And today, if we deny the 58 team, let's have no doubt: it's still the frustration of 50 that's at work. We might like to believe in the national team. But what holds us back is this: the panic of a new and irremediable disappointment. And we keep any hope to ourselves. I can only imagine one thing: if Brazil wins in Sweden, if it returns as world champion! Ah, the faith we hide, the faith we deny, would burst all the floodgates and 60 million Brazilians would end up in the madhouse.

But let's see: does the Brazilian national team really have a real chance? I could simply answer "no." But here's the truth:

— I believe in Brazilians, and worse than that: — I have an outdated and aggressive patriotism, worthy of a mustachioed grenadier. I've seen players from other countries, including the once-fabulous Hungarians, who were beaten here by Flamengo's aspiring-to-be-improved team. Well: — I haven't seen anyone who compares to ours. People talk about a Puskas. I counter-argue with an Ademir, a Didi, a Leônidas, a Jair, a Zizinho.

The pure, holy truth is this: any Brazilian player, when freed from inhibitions and in a state of grace, is something unique in terms of fantasy, improvisation, and invention. In short:

We have an abundance of gifts. And only one thing hinders us and, at times, invalidates our qualities. I want to allude to what I could call a "mongrel complex." I can imagine the reader's astonishment: "What is that?" I'll explain.

By "mongrel complex" I mean the inferiority complex that Brazilians voluntarily place themselves in, in relation to the rest of the world. This is true in all sectors and, above all, in football. To say that we consider ourselves "the greatest" is a cynical untruth. Why did we lose at Wembley? Because, faced with the English team, blond and freckled, the Brazilian team whimpered with humility. Never has our mongrel mentality been so evident and, I would even say, spectacular. In the aforementioned shame of 50, we were superior to our opponents. Moreover, we had the advantage of a draw. Well: — and we lost in the most abject way. For a very simple reason: — because Obdulio treated us like dirt, as if we were mongrels.

I tell you: the problem with the national team is no longer one of football, nor of technique, nor of tactics. Absolutely not. It's a problem of faith in themselves.

Brazilians need to convince themselves that they're not underdogs and that they have footballing talent to spare, even in Sweden. Once they're convinced of that, put them on the field and it will take ten men to hold them back, like the Chinese man in the joke.

I insist: — for the national team, to be or not to be mongrels, that is the question.

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