Recife away: Sport, suffering and three hour flights

Words: Will in Brazil

Images: Will in Brazil

©Terrace Edition/ @willinbrazil

Cauã and Vanessa are smiling when I meet them.

Being Sport fans, they haven’t had a great deal to smile about recently.

Going into tonight’s game, Sport Club do Recife sit at the bottom of Brazil’s Série A - nine points off relegation.

Meanwhile tonight’s opponent’s Palmeiras, fresh from a financially lucrative summer at the Club World Cup, sit second.

But you wouldn’t know that as we approach the ground.

45 minutes before kick off, outside one of the biggest stadiums, in the biggest city in the football mad country of Brazil… and I’m struck by how quiet everything is.

In surrounding Botecos, small groups of fans huddle in front of TVs watching the pre-match build up.

The occasional washing line is hung between lampposts, strung up by street vendors trying to sell flags or knock-offs of the home team’s green and white shirt. I can’t see them making much money tonight.

It’s winter in São Paulo and it seems the cold is keeping most fans away.

Not the Sport fans though.

We pass a group of military police, declaring ourselves as away supporters as they let us through a heavily guarded security checkpoint, and the space opens up to reveal a throng of red and black.

The cold and the lowly league position haven’t put off these wary travellers from the North.

São Paulo is a more than 2500 kilometre drive from Recife. I can’t imagine many have travelled on buses.

Cauã tells me that - like he and Vanessa, close friends from my days living in Brasilia - most will live in São Paulo or neighbouring cities. Those who travelled from Recife will have flown for three hours for the pleasure.

“They better win then!” I tell Cauã.

The Torcida throng around a little boteco, drinking almost exclusively beer and singing into the cold São Paulo sky. It’s mostly young men and a smattering of women, with not a single child in sight - it is a school night after all.

The military police are never too far away.

Allianz Park, I’m told, is one of the great modern stadiums in Brazil. A ground that boasts a capacity of 45,000 and houses one of Brazil’s great footballing institutions, Palmeiras.

Its construction, and subsequent improvements in the club’s security organisation, have led to a steep decline in the rates of violence in and around Palmeiras games.

Inside, the stadium really is quite impressive.

Steep banks of green and white seating means that the away fans, despite being at the very top of the arena, loom down upon the pitch. Plexiglass separates the two sets of supporters and above that netting prevents any projectiles being flung.

Not that the 1500 Sport fans present seem interested in any of that. They can’t even buy a beer if they’d wanted to hurl it - the São Paulo government having banned alcohol sales within grounds to curb violence. They’re too busy singing their hearts out anyway.

The game starts frantically and for the first 15 minutes you wouldn’t know Sport were bottom of the league. Their players buzz around like red and black bees, producing flicks, tricks and neat through balls that open up space beyond the home side’s defence.

But it’s Palmeiras, who are sporting their new Seleçao-inspired yellow away shirt, who strike first. A well-worked counter attack carves open a naive away defence and the home side have the league against the run of play.

For the first time the Sport fans fall silent. For the first time the Palmeiras fans find their voice.

The second half starts with wave after wave of home attacks. Sport’s veteran keeper Gabriel keeps them in the match quite acrobatically, but he’s just delaying the inevitable.

Palmeiras double their lead with a header at the far post, followed 30 minutes from time with a third - a sublimely worked corner routine that any coach would have been proud of.

It’s at this point that Sport’s Torcida have seen enough, flooding from the stadium in their droves and into the neighbouring botecos to watch what’s left of the game on TVs in the warm.

Cauã, Vanessa and I see the game through. We may as well, we tell each other as I zip up my coat.

There’s not many Sport fans left when the ref finally brings the game to a close. Those that remain don’t stay to clap the players anyway.

Cauã’s laughing on the way back to the car.

“Now you know what it’s like to suffer for Sport.”