The World Cup Blog - Day 7 - 21/6/14. The Sao Paulo Experience
[I wrote these posts while out in Brazil, there wasnât time to post the whole entries while there so Iâm posting them now as I wrote them then in good old fashioned paper and pen. Anything in [square brackets] Iâve added now. There are a few small edits to some of the nonsense I wrote down]
Well the dust has settled, we are now out of the World Cup with a game to play. Havenât been able to really bring myself to write anything really. Itâs our last day in Sao Paulo, off on the night bus to Belo Horizonte tonight, and I have to say I wonât be sad to see the back of it. It is a massive urban sprawl, full of character alright but unforgiving, grey & volatile.
We witnessed the stark reality of the poverty last night as hundreds of homeless lined the streets [of a main pedestrian shopping road]. People pushed around carts collecting paper, cardboard, plastic, anything they could find being thrown out by the shops. Outside one bar a couple of plastic tables broke as they fell down some stairs, they were thrown on the rubbish pile and lasted about three minutes before they were looted. At the same time, a man charged around with his wooden cart selling sweet corn cobs, obviously avoiding the regular police patrols in an effort to make some money. We even doubled back from one area as the feeling got very unwelcoming very fast.
So, the day of the game. A mixture of emotions are the main theme of the day. After a breakfast of cheese & ham toastiest (thatâs right , we had the upper class hostel breakfast) we made our way to Sao Bento tube station, the location of the fan park and seated ourselves outside a rather lovely looking bar in the gloom, wind & drizzle and did what we do best on match days â start drinking!
The police presence was minimal in eye sight, but regular riot police patrols too place. What became visible, however, was groups of 5-6 local lads loitering and lingering with intent, eying up the layout. The first we saw of any trouble was the snap of a large Arsenal flag being ripped from a kiosk just behind us, then the sound of broken glass and chairs & tables going over. People were dispersing all around us as I got up I spied a downed chair, my intent to pick it up for defense if we were being charged, but looking in the direction they were coming from there was no one. Before I could move off an almighty bang exploded from somewhere, then another. The sky was then filled with glasses and bottles raining down, I headed for the cover of the awning of the bar, Adrenaline was now pumping like never before, my focus now to make sure all the members of our group were safe, thankfully they were. Several more explosions left a cloud of blue smoke, my initial fear was tear gas â thankfully, again, I was wrong [There were no more glass breaking or explosions after this].
It felt like five or so minutes had passed, in reality it was probably over in less than one. As everyone started to calm down and regain themselves, things began to come back in to focus. It was a scene of devastation, broken glass and upturned furniture littered what moments before had been a scene of celebration. It was carnage.
Once we knew it was safe, myself and fellow fans began to pick up glass & furniture and comfort those who had been shaken beyond their tolerance. Adrenaline still pumped, thoughts were difficult to form still, it was completely bewildering. People who had been in the bar began to emerge, oblivious to the events of moments ago, a few emotional embraces took place. Things slowly returned to normal, fans everywhere helping the cleanup. The riot police then ran over, with the adrenaline still flowing we feared they may see the scene and think it was us, fortunately they didnât and those who could speak English took short statements.
We learnt later that the thugs that attacked us had timed it to get on a bus as they ran off, the bus driver had refused to open the doors and a great many of them were arrested. That was a comforting thought. It took about 90 minutes to completely calm down, hands shaking as we drank. It is something I will never forget. And we still had a game to go to.
Organization, I havenât bothered looking up what the Portuguese word is for it, but it quite clearly isnât something they had bothered to translate either! Taking heed from an article on Sky Sports News before we travelled (about a test game Corinthians held there), we knew it would take almost an hour to get in to the stadium. While we never really stopped on the way in, it was slow going. A walk of about a mile too just over an hour (we did stop for a delicious hot dog at the tube station â two sausages, potato, sweet corn, peas & some tomato based sauce â bloody delicious) to finally pass the ticket check point. We were in, at the World Cup!
The two ends top tiers are made mostly of scaffolding, the concrete stairs ere obviously used before they had cured and had massive chunks missing from the treads. Water leaked from the overhead plumbing, massive electricity cables snaked across the floors with a strip of warning tape on their backs. All in all, despite looking lovely the stadium was far far far from complete, yet another dent in the Sao Paulo experience.
Iâm not going to review the game, but suffice to say when we equalized it seemed likely that we would go on to win the game. The reality soon quashed those thoughts. It is a difficult thing to see your team lose a game such as this. Iâve seen England loose away a few times, be it a friendly or a competitive game. I was spared this anguish in Ukraine, seeing a draw and two wins, flying home before the loss with Italy on penalties. This was as gutting as it gets, the jubilant build up forgotten, the excitement evaporated away, the world was momentarily a dark place [yes, I know that technically we could still qualify â we all knew we wouldnât]. If the way in was disastrous, the way out was worse! 66000 people seemed to be trying to get through a fenced area 10 meters wide. Forced to shuffle a few inches at a time it soon took a toll on the legs.
There has been one thing constantly confusing me since arriving in Brazil, not the four hours time difference, that was sorted in the first day. Itâs the fact it gets dark at 6pm! (Obviously as its winter here) In my mind, as we were leaving the ground I thought it was about 10:30pm forgetting entirely it had been a 4pm kick off, my brain had seen it get dark and decided to tell me it had been a 7:45 kick off. All the way back to the metro I wondered if the trains would still be running out to our hostel? Would we find a bar to drown in? That sort of thing. It wasnât until boarding the train and looking up at the on board clock that I realized it was in fact only 19:40. I felt a bit of a knob, and finally managed a smile.
Given the violent scenes in earlier in the day, the decision was taken to avoid town and head straight back to our little suburb. It was a somber night. There was alcohol.
The next morning started early, a live phone call on BBC Radio Suffolk, it culminated with Mark Murphy telling me âAll we need is for Italy to beat Costa Rica 2-0, then beat Uruguay and for us to beat Costa Ricaâ to which my reply was âwhen you put it like that, it sounds easyâ. We had a few things to sort that day, weâd purposely left a few days blank so we could improvise while out here. We chose to head to Belo Horizonte, the wonder of WiFi and Ipads booked us in to our hotel a day early and a ÂŁ2 trip across the city to the main bus station got us an overnight bus booked for the next night.
We saw Englandâs fate sealed in a small cafĂŠ in Sao Paulo bus station (as much as Iâve knocked the place, the public transport system is really good, for R$3 (about 80p) you can get anywhere on a bus or on the metro (one end of the city to the other if you like), itâs clean and relatively easy to navigate (finding the stations can be a challenge though!) â finally a positive!), there was only one thing left to do. Commiserate.
We ate like kings, steak, veg, more steak, chicken, pork & we drank like Englishmen! The only thing left to do was revisit the scene of yesterdayâs carnage, and drink more. More food later finished off the night. Our Sao Paulo experience finished drunk, probably for the best & we had lifted our flagging spirits.
Our final day in Sao Paulo was relatively sedate, we tried exploring a few areas but they were rather grim and we ended up back in Sao Bento, staying safe was more important. Al thatâs left now is to wait for the night bus.
