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For: Larcio Becker, Carioca consolidated in Curitiba-PR. My relation with the soccer never was accurately one game. The first time that I was to a stadium, exactly the Maracan, nor was for attending to a departure, but to see Noel Papa to go down of helicopter in the way it field. Any way, the first multitude people does not forget. Nor the fort I smell of pee in the corridors of the stadium. My first one gone to the Maracan to see a soccer game dates more or less of 1976 or 1977. We arrive early to obtain a good place. I gained shirt, cap and flag of the Inhabitant of the state of Rio de Janeiro, but my literally infantile impatience hindered that we waited the beginning of the game.
Result: incrivelmente, we were even so before the initial kick To the seven years, some thing moved. Stimulated for the transmissions of the Pantry of Argentina, for my first (and last) album of figurinhas of soccer, that I keep until today, and a flag of Brazil, that I hung in the window per some days (is ' ' native land in chuteiras' ') later discoloured, started to kick a ball of paper inside of the apartment. Coitada of the neighbor of low. The goal was a curtain, that estufava done fil, tuf! In this microcosm of a player alone, I age craque that it dribbled the chairs. But, in the soccer ' ' of verdade' ' , in the lessons of physical education, that I detestava, in the hour to compose the teamses, I was always of the last ones to be chosen. I and the fat people, in the mission to be hidden in one cantinho of zaga, not to confuse. By the way, I already informed before the game: favor not to pass the ball for me that I lose.
