Sponsoring violence

The Copa Libertadores de América is difficult to win. Not only because of the high level of the athletes who participate, but also because of the violence involved in the matches. Punches. Elbows. Bites. Stomps. Shoves. Spitting. Trips. Beatings. All of this is, in a way, tolerated by the organizers, CONMEBOL, and the sponsors, a prestigious bank whose name is associated with this type of behavior.

Think about the offside rule. During matches, offsides of millimeters are called. The linesmen are on high alert, not even blinking, to signal at the exact moment whether a play involving multiple factors is valid or not: the precise moment of the pass; the position of the attacker; the position of the defender; the player who goes and who comes back, who may or may not participate in the play; the position of the ball line; how many players are between it and the goal; and other details.

Calling this type of play with this degree of precision (which, I suppose, must be high) is a premise of good refereeing practiced by CONMEBOL. On the other hand, assaulting an opponent doesn't constitute such a serious foul, as is evident from the competition's history, from the list of examples of players who shove, trip, poke, and continue on the field. Sometimes they get a yellow card, occasionally a red. Antics that would be summarily punished in the European league are tolerated here because this is a championship of Latinos, who are known for their brawling, and thus violence fuels the stereotype.

Linking the Copa Libertadores to the idea of ​​a macho championship, a hard-fought, difficult, unfair, violent game, is the strategy of those who organize and sponsor the event. This becomes clear if we think about the Globo Esporte vignette, which airs in almost every Brazilian home at lunchtime. In it, a group of Andean musicians sing "libertadoreeeeeeeeeeeessss" playing their instruments on the edge of the pitch. Behind them, security guards protect them with large shields from the wrath of the fans, who throw rolls of toilet paper. But of course, shields of that size really protect against stones.

The editorial decision to make light of certain things can be costly, and what Globo claims in its headline is: "We find the possibility of stones being thrown in stadiums funny, we have fun with it." When a responsible policy would be the complete opposite: to encourage families to go to stadiums, to defend the idea that the arenas hosting the games can be frequented by children and the elderly. Who would want to go to a place where others protect themselves with shields?

From the moment a bank sponsors this type of event, and a broadcaster of this size endorses the idea (while airing Vale Tudo fights on Saturdays), I don't know, forgive my pessimism, but the impression is that violence has been institutionalized, it's become a product that's no longer for adults, it's no longer a black-label thing. Legalized beatings, free-for-all violence for all audiences, that's the prime-time slot on broadcast TV.

Thus, the hero of Corinthians in winning the title is not only the star player, the inspired athlete, but the brave one who points his finger in the opponent's face, bites his finger, calls him a coward, a fool, and a faggot. And rhetorically asks: "Do you think I'm scared?" Emerson claims he did this because he had taken two punches before. The commentators were unanimous in saying that he acted with a high degree of emotional intelligence, he didn't let himself be intimidated, he confronted his opponent. He kept his head held high the whole time. He retaliated because he was retaliated against first.

What this has to do with football, with the game itself, is still unclear.

Dutch star Seedorf recently arrived at Botafogo with an impeccable record: in over 800 matches, he was never sent off. With all his European composure, his reasonable and gentle manner, he could be an ambassador for Fair Play in the Copa Libertadores. If he ever gets to play in it.