I’m a nostalgic person.
I adapt to changes in the world, I see some as evolution, others not, and in the sporting field I miss the time when football was different from today.
I started following football when I heard the semi-final of the 1981 Brazilian Championship on the radio, São Paulo x Botafogo, on April 26, 1981, 45 years ago. The tricolor team won 3-2 and advanced to the final, where they lost to Grêmio do Baltazar, nicknamed Artilheiro de Deus. I was 8 years old.
It was sensational to listen to the games via the radio waves, emotion beyond the skin, and the overwhelming majority of fans did so, because almost no games were shown on television. Imagination ran wild, and it was great to watch the goals on TV, at night or the next day, to check if what had been imagined matched reality.
Going to matches was an experience for the intrepid. Whether at Morumbi, which hosted almost all of São Paulo’s classics (including Corinthians x Palmeiras, Corinthians x Santos, Palmeiras x Santos), or at another stadium, the ticket was purchased at the local box office, which only accepted cash. There was no internet, checks or cards were not accepted, these were still in their infancy.
Huge and disrespectful queues, people advanced towards the small windows of the ticket windows. A physical fight. There was the option of scalpers who roamed around, charging prohibitive prices for tickets that could be fake.
In the stands, where I was, with a radio in my ear, there were no seats. It was concrete, and the space was occupied on a first-come, first-served basis. Latecomers appeared saying “press down, move a little further”. It wasn’t cool, but how to deal with the brazenness, with the game starting, and him supporting the same team? We squeezed each other.
On the field, the team played with uniform number 1 or number 2. No Corinthians in orange, Santos in blue, and so on, in the wave of launches of third uniforms that disrespect the colors of the associations. The commercial side did not prevail.
The players wore shirts and shorts made of cloth (cotton), not polyester. They got wet when sweaty, and, being shorter, they made the athletes’ thighs more visible.
The number of holders was fixed, from 1 to 11. Always. If, for example, Zico, Flamengo’s number 10 shirt, couldn’t play for some reason, whoever was selected in his place would wear the number 10 on their back. Over time, each player received a personalized number, accompanied by their name.
Bank reserves? Five: one goalkeeper and four linemen. Today there are up to 15. Substitutions? Two. Today there are five. In case of extension, one more. In the event of a concussion, a spare replacement can be made.
Interviews with the players were carried out wholesale, before, at half-time and after the game, and reporters had access, after the match, to the dressing rooms, where they asked more questions to those involved in the match. Today, behind closed doors, journalists are at the mercy of press offices offering a measly interviewee, not always the one requested.
Another era. With more technique and less physical strength. With flags with poles, which left the stands colorful. Without fan partners, we were all equal. And without VAR, that’s boring.
I’m a nostalgic person.
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