On the streets of Copacabana, fans from all nations are sporting their jerseys. Lots of Colombians in bright yellow, Chileans sporting their red jerseys, the sky blue stripes of Argentina, Mexican green, the German tricolor, a trickling of Aussie yellow, and, of course, the ever present gold and green of Brasil. You get the feeling that many of these folks brought along just one shirt in their suitcase, to be worn from now until their team is eliminated.
So, today, I got in the spirit and pulled out our US kits. I had been saving them for the game, but it’s hard to start up chants of USA when you’re donning a plain brown t-shirt. So, I went down to breakfast in the B&B where we’re staying, proudly wearing my vintage 1994 US jersey (for those in the know, it’s red and white wavy stripes shirt, which is slightly less hideous than the blue and white faux denim stars jersey from the same year). In the kitchen, I found Milton, the 5-year-old son of the cook, quiely enjoying a morning bun. I greeted him, only to be told that Milton is “moite timido,” very shy. Undeterred, I asked him if he liked football. A nod of the head. The Selecao, I asked. A more vigorous nod. And how about this one, I asked, pointing to my shirt.
Now, there are a few reactions I expected as possibilities, ranging from an encouraging nod to an uncomprehending shrug. But I never expected what followed. Milton took in my words and rolled his eyes. That’s right, my suggestion of victory for the US of A earned an eye-roll from a Brazilian pre-schooler.
It seems the US has an uphill climb, but I will be cheering and waving the flag nonetheless. Viva la Copa.