Two weeks into our World Cup love affair, the games in Brazil have been nothing short of beautiful. This should be no surprise: in Brazil, futebol is an art form, and the Brazilian brand of the sport has a distinctly aesthetic ingredient. One place the beauty of "the beautiful game," as it's called, is particularly visible is street art tributes. Graffiti––grafite for Brazilians––is, like football, distinctly national. Decriminalized since 2009, Rio's graffiti murals are considered among the world's richest and most diverse.
In the months leading up to the World Cup, street art in Brazil has become an outlet for political commentary. Take PAULO ITO's mural of a crying boy with nothing but a soccer ball to eat, which went viral earlier this spring. Meanwhile, during the past year, over a million people have taken to the streets in host cities like Rio, São Paulo, Belo Horizonte, and Recife, to protest government corruption, forced removals of the poor, unsafe working conditions, and poor access to education, public transportation, and healthcare—all while FIFA expects to walk away with an estimated four billion dollars in revenue. In short, many in Brazil feel their “beautiful game” has been bought.
At 16, I convinced my mom to let me go to Rio by myself for a month to train at the prestigious Zico Soccer Academy (ran by the legendary Brazilian attacking midfielder). While staying in safe neighborhood of Jardim Botânico, I traveled nearly an hour each day to training, passing lush natural beauty and beautiful beaches as well as the cities' hillsides filled with favela slums, home to 22 percent of the city’s population. Many, if not most, of the kids I played with at the Academy came from these areas, as have some of the Seleção’s (National Team’s) brightest of stars, from Ronaldinho to Roberto Carlos. The Seleção’s ability to create something out of nothing is what makes their brand of futebol distinct, full of ingenuity born out of a culture that, entrenched in real hardship, finds new opportunity––a Brazilian spirit of positivity.
While some would argue the players and street art protesters like CRANIO and PAULO ITO are on different sides of this battle, the late great Sócrates––captain of Brazil at Spain ’82––seemed to suggest a more comprehensive approach, celebrating both the beautiful game and the beautiful struggle, saying, “Often I think what if we could one day direct this enthusiasm that we have for football also towards positive causes for humanity? For in the end, football and earth both have one thing in common: both are a ball.”
Calen Carr is an eight-year MLS veteran for Chicago Fire and Houston Dynamo. For daily World Cup 2014 coverage, follow his Instagram project FIFTYTOFOURTEEN. <
In the months leading up to the World Cup, street art in Brazil has become an outlet for political commentary. Take PAULO ITO's mural of a crying boy with nothing but a soccer ball to eat, which went viral earlier this spring. Meanwhile, during the past year, over a million people have taken to the streets in host cities like Rio, São Paulo, Belo Horizonte, and Recife, to protest government corruption, forced removals of the poor, unsafe working conditions, and poor access to education, public transportation, and healthcare—all while FIFA expects to walk away with an estimated four billion dollars in revenue. In short, many in Brazil feel their “beautiful game” has been bought.
At 16, I convinced my mom to let me go to Rio by myself for a month to train at the prestigious Zico Soccer Academy (ran by the legendary Brazilian attacking midfielder). While staying in safe neighborhood of Jardim Botânico, I traveled nearly an hour each day to training, passing lush natural beauty and beautiful beaches as well as the cities' hillsides filled with favela slums, home to 22 percent of the city’s population. Many, if not most, of the kids I played with at the Academy came from these areas, as have some of the Seleção’s (National Team’s) brightest of stars, from Ronaldinho to Roberto Carlos. The Seleção’s ability to create something out of nothing is what makes their brand of futebol distinct, full of ingenuity born out of a culture that, entrenched in real hardship, finds new opportunity––a Brazilian spirit of positivity.
While some would argue the players and street art protesters like CRANIO and PAULO ITO are on different sides of this battle, the late great Sócrates––captain of Brazil at Spain ’82––seemed to suggest a more comprehensive approach, celebrating both the beautiful game and the beautiful struggle, saying, “Often I think what if we could one day direct this enthusiasm that we have for football also towards positive causes for humanity? For in the end, football and earth both have one thing in common: both are a ball.”
Calen Carr is an eight-year MLS veteran for Chicago Fire and Houston Dynamo. For daily World Cup 2014 coverage, follow his Instagram project FIFTYTOFOURTEEN. <