Brasil 9, 2003

João Luiz Bulcão  

30 copies in all formats.
Three other formats available.

It was in Brazil, in the early 70s. I was seven years old and we lived under the dictatorship of General Medici.
My first visual emotion is linked to a childhood memory. A mythical "futebol" match opposed Brazil and Italy, for the final of the World Cup at the Aztecs stadium, in Mexico. These images broadcast on television, live and in black and white, contrasted with those of the crowd dressed in the colors of my country: yellow, green and blue which invaded the streets and the multicolored fireworks which exploded at the end of the game in the squares of my neighborhood. The "Seleção" had won its third World Champion title.

The military junta took ownership of this victory which boosted national pride. She used it as an element of propaganda to instil the idea that thanks to her everything was possible. This is how the round ball was taken hostage at home.

Twenty-four years later, I took part, as a photographer, in this same ritual as our national team brought home this much-desired trophy for the fourth time. I remember the crazy moments that surrounded their victorious return. I remember seeing these heroes parade with open arms through the avenues of Rio de Janeiro. Political power had changed hands and we were consolidating the use of democracy.

Whether the ball is plastic, rubber, leather, cardboard, rag, it doesn't matter. The main thing is that, whatever the terrain, it can roll. For us Brazilians, the ball is synonymous with breathing.

Building teams is an invitation to fellowship. Around a ball, there is neither rich nor poor. We challenge each other of all genders and ages. We play north to south and east to west in this continental-sized country.

I have photographed players on the beaches, in the favelas, in the streets, in prisons and even on oil platforms. Alongside the players, in the stadiums, I met supporters passionate about their clubs, their teams, their idols.

Victories and defeats are moments where sadness, joy and faith are expressed in an instinctive and spontaneous choreography. Each step, each dribble, each missed or successful goal reminds me of the talent of one of my idols as they fill the imagination of millions of anonymous players.

Wearing the national team's yellow t-shirt... wherever they live, kids survive thanks to this quest for the Holy Grail: contributing to collective victory by making people forget their personal defeats. How many have seen their lives changed? One in a million, the most realistic would say. Pelé, Zico, Romario, Ronaldo, Ronaldinho, Raï, Neymar… most of them emerged from miserable ghettos and talent opened the doors of the world to them!

Dreams of ordinary kids, football is a reflection of the enthusiasm that Brazilians have for life. Even after the humiliating defeat to Germany (7-1) in the last World Cup at home, the dream lives on.