Bread and Circus
by Jorge Vargas
The world is currently celebrating the 42nd installment of the Copa América, which has probably outlived everyone involved in the first installment and is being hosted in Venezuela for the first time in the tournament's long history. The world is celebrating the oldest footballing tournament at the national team level in history. And history continues to be rewritten: following an impressive 2-0 victory over a badly performing Peru, along with two valuable draws of 2-2 and 0-0 over Bolivia and Uruguay respectively, Venezuela has not only had its second victory in the history of the tournament but is also celebrating its first time advancing to the second round in decades. Other nations have also rewritten history a bit, including Peru with a surprising 3-0 victory over traditional powerhouse, Uruguay, while Mexico's 2-0 victory over eternal champion Brazil is still shocking the world despite the fact that the victory happened several days ago. Of course, some nations are reliving history as always, such as the United States with defeats of 1-4 and 1-3 against Argentina and Paraguay respectively and Ecuador with its 2-3 loss to Chile, followed by a 1-2 defeat at Mexican hands.
Some offices in Venezuela have closed down for business, and supermarkets and convenience stores are closing down during game hours. In the meantime, when Hugo Chavez, President of Venezuela, started his weekly radio and TV broadcast from Russia, no one cared about what he had discussed with President Putin of Russia or about his upcoming trip to the Middle East. They wanted to know what score he prognosticated for the Venezuela-Uruguay match that was played out on July 3rd.
In Colombia, the complete Paraguayan 5-0 victory over Colombia along with Colombia's 4-2 loss against Argentina both quickly overshadowed news of the terrorist civil war going on in that Andean country. Furthermore, following Peru's impressive 3-0 victory over Uruguay which was followed by a dismaying loss of 0-2 against Venezuela and a pitiful 2-2 draw with Bolivia, no one in Peru is watching or reporting the news of former dictator Fujimori in Chile or of the current Peruvian government's suspicious lack of action on the matter.
Let's not be so negative and harsh. Football, as Bono once so brilliantly stated, unites the world - I cite Bono, but he was not the first to have said or thought that. The 1930 World Cup in Uruguay started something phenomenal for the world. A common language was born. It was not English, it was not necessarily poetic, but it was most certainly beautiful.
The language revolved around sweat, around passion; it had frustration and joy at its core, and, as a back-up, it included physical injury, pain, embraces, insults, and love of the jersey; love for the country and respect for the flag, regardless of which jersey, of which country, or of which flag. Soon, traditions were born.
The 1930 World Cup ended with Uruguay's resounding 4-2 final victory over Argentina, starting the oldest football rivalry in the world. Soon thereafter, the Argentina-Brazil classic was born, along with the England-Germany, the Germany-Italy, the Brazil-Netherlands, the Brazil-Italy, the Germany-Netherlands, the Argentina-England, and then the not so skillful but no less passionate classics of Peru-Chile and the United States-Mexico, amongst a handful of other key rivalries.
The language evolved. It finally had words. Pelé (Brazil). Maradona (Argentina). Beckenbauer (Germany). Platini (France). Cryuff (Netherlands). Pelé was crowned the King, and Maradona was the eternal prodigal son - or, in the eyes of many, the rightful king. The language added its best tournament: the 1970 World Cup in Mexico which saw Brazil as the champions. It added its best footballing decade: the 1970s.
Brazil emerged as the best footballing country in the world, with the name 'Brazil' now being synonymous with world champion. Germany became the 'Brazil' of Europe. Spain became the world's best under-achiever, the perennial dark horse candidate to win the tournament. England and Argentina gained the reputation of having the most political rivalry and the most notorious fans. Italy's defense became the model for the rest of the world.
Now, the whole world speaks the language. No exceptions. If you mention the name Maradona in Argentina or in Egypt or in Botswana or in India, they will know who you mean, even if the knowledge is vague. Pelé is more famous than Julius Caesar, Washington, and Churchill combined in many parts o our planet.
And, of course, the World Cup has long since surpassed the Olympics. It's a fact: violence decreases throughout the world during World Cup time.
Unfortunately, the circus lends itself to manipulation. The 1978 World Cup played in Argentina is an excellent example of this. Argentina, at the time, was dominated by a vicious military leadership. Did anyone care about that during the world cup? No. Did anyone even bother reporting that the leader of the Argentina military government visited the dressing rooms during halftime of the Argentina-Peru semifinal match, a match that Argentina went on to win 6-0, securing Argentina's spot in the World Cup final? No.
The Roman Coliseum has been replaced by thousands of football stadiums: replaced by the Olympic Stadium in Berlin, by Wembley Stadium in London, by the Bombonera Stadium in Buenos Aires, by the Maracana Stadium in Rio de Janeiro, by the Monumental Stadium in Lima, by the Centenario in Montevideo, and the Santiago Bernabeu Stadium in Madrid amongst thousands of others.
Complicated politics or simple score results? Boring speeches or the passionate meeting of 22 romanticized warriors underneath a Venezuelan moon? What will the readers choose? What should go on the front page in Colombia's newspapers: the killings or the 0-5 defeat at the hands of Paraguay? What sells?
Is the answer not obvious?
So is it also not obvious that a lot of under-the-table politics goes on during tournaments? Let's not blame the media any more than we have to. Yes, they irresponsibly ignore the stories of real importance and glorify athletes - of any sport, not just football - instead of honing in on the individuals who will dictate what we do tomorrow, all for the sake of profit. There is no denying that.
But we are to blame, too. The businesses that close, the people who leave work early, the people who call in sick, the individuals who buy mass amounts of alcohol for a game which, in reality, has no more importance save that which we, the fans, have given to it.
As am I, to blame. After all, I have watched every game in every national-level global football event - of importance, since I have ignored the Asian, African, and North American regional tournaments - since the 1998 World Cup Final in which France suspiciously defeated Brazil with a resounding 3-0. And every time that my own national team comes to play in my current home city, I go to the stadium - usually to watch them lose, but that is another issue.
We most likely can not change the blindness that football inspires in us during competitions. There is too much at stake. After all, when Peru loses a match, I wake up the following morning feeling as if Peru has lost an actual battle, and so do most other Peruvians - unfortunately, Peru loses often, but, again, that is another issue. These teams are not just playing some game. They are defending their country, their flag. My country, my flag.
That passion will not go away. But our media outlets can try a little harder to control themselves, at least. Or, at the absolute minimum, they can recognize the problem.
In the meantime, I will continue to watch the beautiful game, and so will the rest of the civilized world. Blame globalization for making the job of the Caesars that much easier.
