Discreet, Ademir da Guia turned 81 on April 3 – 05/04/2023 – Juca Kfouri

“Football Sunday morning?

It could only be a hat thing with nothing to do.

But that was it: Palmeiras and Lusa would play on a Sunday morning, April 24, 1977, for the Campeonato Paulista, a game that would not have much importance were it not, it was said, for the fact that it marked the farewell of Ademir da Guia, the Divine, from alviverde.

And there I went to witness history.

That took on historical truth, because the first person I noticed in the press box was Domingos da Guia, the Divine Master, a nickname he had earned from the Uruguayans when he was crowned champion for Nacional, in 1933.

The Divine Master had gone to see his son play.

Ademir was already 35 years old and had played enough to win a statue in Parque Antarctica.

Classic, cold, unshakable, Ademir da Guia decided to put on a private show that morning, doing things that weren’t even his style – goals, for example.

He scored twice in Palmeiras’ 3-2 win.

One prettier than the other, hit in the chest, ball in the back of the net.

And he even gave another one to Jorge Mendonça – there, yes, in his own style, in a brilliant pass.

Not satisfied, he saved three goals from Lusa, who had an inspired Enéas, scorer of the 1-1 tie, through Leão’s legs.

Suddenly, 35,000 people were standing in Pacaembu applauding Ademir playing – say goodbye?

Ademir da Guia seemed to want to show that the top hats hadn’t gone crazy, that any time was a good time to play football.

And what football!

It was so special that it made it 1-0 at 19 minutes of the first half and 2-1 at 19 of the second.

Millimetric, surgical, as usual.

The old Domingos, who was also champion of Argentina for Boca Juniors, in 1935, and from Rio de Janeiro for Vasco, in 1934, and for Flamengo, in 1939, 42 and 43, was a smile.

Pride seethed undisguised.

Game over, those who had gone for an aperitif before the round that would take place in the afternoon felt more than feasted.

The press surrounds Divino Mestre, who sentences, a fearless colossus: ‘I came to São Paulo because I heard that he is stopping. I even brought a proposal from Vasco, but I’m not even going to present it, because I’m not an imbecile. In fact, the Palmeiras team is no longer the same as two, three years ago. But Ademir is’.

Nothing more was said or asked. She didn’t even need to.

Ademir still played for another five months, each game a recital.”

If the rare reader made it this far, know that the text is a reproduction of a chapter from a booklet of mine published 20 years ago, “Meninos, Eu Vi”, by DBA/Lance!, now out of print.

It was the way I found to pay homage to him, since I don’t have the power of synthesis of Armando Nogueira, who, one day, about the Divine, wrote: “Ademir da Guia, name, surname and football ace”, also referring to Ademir de Menezes, known as Queixada, a player from Pernambuco for Vasco and the national team.

Much less do I have the poetic talent of João Cabral de Melo Neto, also from Pernambuco: “Ademir imposes with his game/ the rhythm of lead (and weight),/ of the slug, of slow motion,/ of the man inside the nightmare./ Liquid rhythm infiltrating/ the opponent, thick, from within,/ imposing on him what he wants,/ ordering him around, rotting him./ A lukewarm rhythm, of walking on sand,/ of sick water from swamps,/ numbing and then tying the most restless adversary”, published in the book “Museu de Tudo”, in 1975.