A post to finally justify the somewhat ridiculous URL of my page: last night in a bar-slash-whatever (places are seldom just pubs anymore, they are generally funkified combinations of that and nightclubs) I saw a perfectly formed girl (by my specifications: delicate but not too thin) with a beret and tanned skin in the absence of daytime light sitting on a stool, and in front of her there was an attractive guy with a three-day old beard who was also on a stool facing her. They were kissing each other every so often, which is not so unusual in the circumstances, but they did it with a tingling anticipation that was lacking in other pashing couples. It was a scene that captured my attention for a few seconds. Then she put her hands on her lap on top of her thighs, flat with the palms down, and moved them a centimetre forward. In that instant I saw subtle sex pulse through her. I thought: there’s a possibility that those two might be committing to having sex with each other, maybe not tonight but sometime in the future. This is sounding like voyeur territory but from the snippets that I glanced in my ‘I don’t want to be here’ awkwardness, it was one of the sexiest things I’ve seen. Let’s face it, workaday life is not full of these moments and TV sexiness is not sexy, it isn’t real.

Call this foolish, but I think women have sex embedded in their genes, a certain style of eroticism and movement during sex that us chimpanzees with penises will never be able to replicate. They also have dance within them too, an innate understanding of movement that again, us men don’t have. I guess what the two things have in common is movement, sensuality, feeling. My judgement is skewed by sexual desire, but women are the ones who bring the beauty to our race, who make it worth anything. They are the ones most responsible for that elusive subtlety and magic that sometimes happens.

I can be in touch with it too, but since these qualities don’t actually affect anything in our knockabout world, I’m left floundering because my subtle abilities (writing, languages) do not get cabinets built, or roads designed, or food produced. As James Brown sang, “This is a man’s world.” And perhaps that’s the problem.


P.S. A google image search for ‘sexy’ and ‘sensual’ came up with a lot of skin and a bunch of asses waved to the camera, and missed the point entirely.


There’s an awful lot of coffee in Brazil…

… and I’m no doubt buying into stereotypes, but what is that certain something about Brazil that sets it apart from every other country? Is it a lack of inhibition, a society that is open to any posibility and whose limits are only its crushing social divides, the poverty and racial stigma against its lower classes?

The Brazilian story is a swarming culture where basically anything goes in a good and a bad sense, a whirling kaleidoscope of motion and colour and emotion and sensory overload. Compared to the sedate Spanish countries surrounding it it is an island of acceptance, of pleasure and suffering, where the highs are higher and the lows are lower, a miracle in one sense to counter the more orderly miracle of the Dutch in Europe.

And, from out of that chaos, Brazil has consistently produced the most gifted attacking soccer players on the planet over the last fifteen years. From Romario in 1994, to King Ronaldo and Rivaldo in 1998 and 2002, to Ronaldinho in 2005, to Kaka in 2007, the production line has been constant. But these kings often make sudden falls from the top that go against our society’s now-is-forever perceptions. Romario decided on a job well done after he gave the country the 1994 World Cup title and put his feet up. Rivaldo went from World Cup-winning lynchpin to a soccer nobody in the space of three months in 2002. Ronaldinho famously lost his mojo in mid-2006 after he appeared for all the world to be the greatest player of all time. Kaka hasn’t been up to much since he won the Champions League for Milan in 2007 (literally, he was the one who achieved it for the rest of the team and not vice versa). Ronaldo mostly bucked the trend with comeback after comeback from injury and he proved himself wherever he went, although not for extended time anywhere as his whims wandered.

Why does this consistently happen? Am I being unfair to these players who tap into uncertain magic in an uncertain business? Don’t these fades happen to many attacking players, who have the most difficult gig in organised sports (Shevchenko post-Milan, for example)? Is the summit a tightrope, easy to fall off? Or, is the fall a Brazilian trait? Did these players, many who came from abject poverty, lose their hunger after having proven themselves and risen in the world against all odds?

I might have expected Kaka to buck the trend, coming as he did from a stable middle-class family rather than the social breakdown and the doubtful lessons of the favelas. Or am I being classist, racist? I called in 2007 that he has enough of a head on his shoulders (implying: unlike the others) to appear for Brazil in their hometown World Cup tournament of 2014 at the ripe age of 32. But I think now I was wrong: he already seems like yesterday’s man. He has this World Cup to set things right, because he failed in 2006 and if he fails in 2010 there will be no 2014. He always seemed more beholden to European effectiveness than Brazilian fantasy, his cool glacial movement, passing and shooting producing stunningly skilled if emotionless goals by the standards of those other Brazilian masters. I’m not a Kaka devotee but I’m fascinated by the normalness of his story, perhaps the proof that ‘White men can jump’ by the disgraceful racial standards (in both directions) of the United States, and belying the cliche that genius can only spring from the turmoil and creativity of poverty.

Would I blame the shooting star tendencies of the others on the unsettled mentality that growing up with nothing produces? It would be crude, and cruel, to be sure. But I can’t help but think of Pele, who could never get over the favela mentality that he always needed more money even after he became stunningly rich and famous, and subsequently whores his endorsement to anyone who provides the golden handshake (remember erection disfunction 2002?). Then there was the King Ronaldo, who always likewise felt that he needed more women in his life even after his exploits were set in stone and they began falling over themselves for him. Call it an overcompensation from his youth?

I love Ronaldo. The way he came back from three years of injuries into the second most difficult tournament in soccer that is the World Cup* in 2002 and easily got back into his goalscoring groove – eight goals in seven matches, a modern-day World Cup miracle – would indicate that he was indeed something very special, probably the greatest pure goalscorer of all time. His otherworldly skill allowed him to overcome a few knee reconstructions and a questionable attitude to training to reach the top and consistenly score wherever he went, even as late as at Milan in early 2007 after he was at least three years past it. He never fell forever like the others because he was simply the best at what he did (Ronaldinho hit the greatest heights as the best ever player for a brief time but that’s contradictory), but he didn’t stay at the top* in Europe because he never stuck around in one place for long enough, mostly because of injuries. I have to recall at this point that Europe is not Brazil and no matter how clean a life Europe offers, it isn’t home for these players. Maybe that’s why Rivaldo fell, why the pretenders Adriano and Robinho couldn’t cope, why Ronaldo never found a ‘home’.

*(True soccer buffs know that the UEFA Champions League, although not as glorious as the World Cup, is actually the true pinnacle of ability and skill in a stultifying environment that permits no leeway except that which the best of the best create for themselves. Ronaldo proved himself the best in this environment too, but didn’t take consistent part in it. That’s just the way it randomly worked out.)

I hope Kaka, Luis Fabiano and Nilmar will be the 2010 version of the three Rs of 2002. I suspect their arrogant, complacent efforts of 2006 will be put to bed. There is one month before those beautiful yellow shirts show this time as always that their focus and ability to make exactly the correct runs, passes and shots when they see space is unmatched in world soccer, that when you see their attacks build up on the break you can feel the power of their technique, thought and movement. They are a creative facet of society that is seldom matched in any field. Is it part of the fabric of the country itself? Why doesn’t anyone else produce such exceptional attackers?