The inhumane heat and football – 11/15/2023 – Juca Kfouri

As the denialists who vote as they do know, global warming is a globalist thing.

The days we are living in before summer, after the hottest winter in Brazilian history, everything is a conspiracy of thermometers, because the mercury in them is alcohol with dye, normally, tchan! tchan! tchan!… red!

Last Sunday (12), the women’s Derby, played at 11 am –scheduled by the FPF–, should have been banned by the Animal Protection Association, as the inhumane top hats, in their refrigerated offices, don’t care about health of athletes.

One of the biggest crimes against football was committed in 1994, in the United States, by FIFA, which wanted to win Americans over to what they call soccer: it scheduled the World Cup decision for noon, in July, at the Rose Bowl stadium. , in Pasadena, Los Angeles County, California, 40° in the shade, blazing sun.

The Brazilians and Italians played for 120 minutes without even scoring a goal in the country that likes high scores.

The emotions were all due to the dispute at the penalty spot, in the worst final of all World Cups, exactly the opposite of what happened in torrid Qatar, where both the time of year and the time of the game were changed: it was played in December, at 6 pm and with air conditioning.

Result? 3-3, more shots from the limelight, in the best World Cup final of all time.

All this to say that the CBF had the luck of FIFA dates to change the times of the final rounds of the Brazilian Championship.

In the name of the health of players and fans, because heat kills: according to the World Health Organization, around 15 million people per year. There are even experts who claim that heat is more lethal than cold.

May the next round already meet common sense, so that the CBF avoids throwing in its face, and in its account, the verses of Paulo Mendes Campos, in the poem “Vai da Valsa”, which has a justification, given by the author himself : “Naive but sincere verses that a player sends, through us, to football managers who force professionals to play the most serious matches of the championship in savage heat.”

“Sunday, in the game, which is tiring, in the dance, from the fire, you stayed far away, drinking ice cream, slurping ice cream, played on the modern carpet, in front of the television; but I in hell, in the flame of the grass, the star, stump, dribbled , I was sweating, running, suffering, more than a dog. I wish you felt the pain, heat that you’ve never felt! I wish you felt it! Don’t deny it, don’t lie… – You ran away! I tell you that I fight, that I kick, that I step, that I do, I waste my time, I forget, I scald myself; I tell you that I fight without a breeze, without animals, I fight on a whim just for love; but you want me to feint, shake, refine, hit me, rebound, score, come back, cut, kick , compete with this heat!? I wish you felt the pain, heat, that you’ve never felt. I wish you felt it! Don’t deny it, don’t lie – You ran away! I wanted to see you without the TV, in the flame, in the grass, hitting the ball, running, moaning, sweating, screaming in amazement at so much heat! For just a minute, if that, I wanted to see you! Oh poor top hat, roll in the fire of the ball game! I swear that soon, sweaty, tired, you would scream for your mom: I wish you could play smoking cigars just for that minute at Maracanã!”

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