One of our members was fortunate enough to fly the blue flag for Leicester City and Union FS out in Brazil for the group stages of the 2014 World Cup. Taking in games in Salvador, Recife, Natal and Porto Alegre, here’s the story of the journey and the fan culture he experienced in South America.
FIFA GO HOME. That was the tagline appropriated by the British press in the weeks leading up to the federation’s show-piece event as the overbearing emotion demonstrated by the locals in Brazil. Coverage of protestations by the Brazilians, disenfranchised by their government’s alleged overspending on the tournament and the 2016 Summer Olympics was recycled endlessly to fill column inches and news reports.
One could be forgiven for thinking that they were heading to a country not bothered about football. It would be naïve to believe that the money spent on providing the necessary infrastructure all over this behemoth of an emerging nation could not have been spent more wisely elsewhere. But this is Brazil. A country thoroughly obsessed with the sport.
On arrival in Salvador, it was immediately apparent that those disturbed by their country’s profligacy in hosting the ‘Copa’ would be outshouted massively by the excited majority of Brazilians. Salvador, the capital of Afro-Brazilian culture, was in the mood to party – particularly after the Seleҫӓo had dispatched Croatia in the opening fixture – and welcome the hordes of Dutch fans that our connecting flight from Lisbon (amongst others) had delivered to the Bahian city ahead of their 5-1 demolition job of Spain. Kids of all ages danced and sang throughout the night with the Oranje who dominated the city’s historic centre, Pelourinho. Spanish fans were few and far between – hardly surprising given the apparent ‘can’t be arsed to travel’ culture prevalent in their national league structure.
Arena Fonte Nova, Salvador
Not much needs to be said about the game in Salvador itself. You will have all likely seen the Robin Van Persie and Arjen Robben inspired rout of the reigning World Champions. The Arena Fonte Nova, conveniently plonked in the middle of several Salvadorian favelas, shuddered in disbelief after each second-half goal for the Dutch hit the back of Iker Casillas’ net. Walking outside the stadium, the evening was capped with the pleasure of seeing several locals rock Sepp Blatter’s heavily escorted car as it attempted to make a swift getaway, presumably towards his private jet.
Our not so private jet to Recife lay ahead of us first thing the next morning. Recife is perhaps the most underprepared of the twelve host cities, and fans we had spoken to had stressed how difficult they had found sourcing suitable accommodation. The hotel that we had found was handily situated near a metro line that linked the city centre with the airport but failed to serve the stadium – a white elephant dropped over 20 kilometres outside of the city – and the beach; the two sure-fire visits for football tourists. After dropping our bags at the hotel, the amenable receptionist Everton discussed England’s chances for that evening against Italy before pointing us in the direction of the beach. ‘You don’t have anything valuable with you, do you? OK good, this way is safe’ as he drew lines through what we later discovered to be a Recife favela. The Japanese fans arriving at the same time as us wisely decided to stick it out in the hotel until check-in hour arrived as within 15 minutes of reaching the beach (after over an hour’s walk) the heavens opened and did not close.
After watching England lose to the Italians in what can only be described as a food-court in the middle of nowhere, we headed to the Arena Pernambuco in the driving rain with the huge number of Japan fans that had made their trip expectantly.
At one end of the stadium gathered a handful of Ivorians. Equipped with a vast array of musical instruments, the men in orange set about performing what must be the most tiring display of football supporting I can ever remember. Stood for the entirety, the group danced their way through the game as Didier Drogba stirred a comeback that looked unlikely following Keisuke Honda’s first-half opener.
The swathes of Japanese fans had celebrated that Honda goal by hoisting what looked like blue plastic bags into the air – you know, the ones that you get at an indy off-licence. These bags had formed a simple but effective tifosi in the official Japan end, which could only have been about two block’s worth; FIFA’s ticket allocations for the participating associations has been laughable throughout the tournament and it was absolutely no different here. Japanese club football fandom is hugely inspired by the European Ultrà scene of the 1990s and this mentality had clearly been transferred to their national side. This small choreography was the first I had seen initiated by fans at a major international tournament.
‘NIPPON, NIPPON’ – Samurai Blue tifosi in Recife
Next up was the short afternoon flight to Natal where the inescapable clutch of the World Cup gripping the nation was in full effect – Switzerland vs Ecuador live on the in-flight entertainment. A chorus of boos from the majority of passengers on board met the end of the safety demonstration that brought a momentary pause to proceedings and the missing of Mehmedi’s equaliser for the Swiss.
Natal, and the resort-like Ponta Negra to the south of the Arena Das Dunas was teeming with American fans. The US had sold the most tickets for the tournament through FIFA’s official channels of any nation – shifting over three times as many as the bordering Argentinians. The cynic in me suggests that FIFA’s ticket ‘raffle’ was weighted in favour of the Americans because they know the value of the burgeoning US market and the immediate spending power. What is undoubtable was that the Americans were everywhere.
Led by the American Outlaws – a nationwide supporters’ group with over 100 ‘Chapters’ across the US – the Yanks meant business in Brazil. Knowledgeable, passionate and patriotic, they were generally a pleasure to share a Brahma with and arriving the stadium hours ahead of their game against Ghana, we did just that with an adopted Chicagoan; a City fan originally from Hinckley. Small world.
Arena Das Dunas, Natal
Whilst the American Outlaws have put together some fine choreography in the past, their songbook definitely needs work. Horrific versions of ‘We Love You’ were interspersed with the laughably cringemaking ‘I Believe That We Will Win’. Natal’s stewards had no luck getting the US fans to sit, as they bounced their way through the 90 minutes. The scenes when John Brooks bagged a late winner, in a game they had no real right to take three points from, were impressive. Not quite Knockaert at Forest levels but pleasantly surprising nonetheless.
Two flights later and we found ourselves in the deep South – Porto Alegre; the heat and humidity of the north already a distant memory. The Dutch were back in town and this time they were more than evenly matched by the optimistic Aussies despite staring elimination in the face after their defeat to Chile. The difference in wealth between Brazil’s north-east corner and this city in Rio Grande do Sul is striking but what struck me more was the willingness of the city’s football fans to wear the colours of their two great sides – SC Internacional and Gremio – at any time of the day. Fans of both clubs were ubiquitous around the city and were more than happy to chant in favour of their side during the breaks in play.
The Aussie following was significant in terms of noise and numbers. Banks of gold adorned both tiers in SC Internacional’s renovated Estadio Beira-Rio and the carnage ensuing from Mile Jedinak’s second half penalty (after Tim Cahill’s stunning volley) exceeded that of the Americans up in Natal. Rapturous chaos in yellow. The Dutch, momentarily shaken, recovered to book their place in the last 16 with goals from Van Persie and the talented Memphis Depay. Any other country and you may have felt at least a slight bit of pity for the losers here but an Englishman can only feel Schadenfreude for the Aussies.
And that was that. As it stood, our World Cup was over even earlier than England’s. But whilst Kasabian were dominating Viccy Park, we still garnered hope of securing tickets for Belgium vs Russia in the epic Estádio Jornalista Mário Filho or ‘the Maracanã’ to give it its colloquial and world-renowned name.
Sadly no tickets were forthcoming but the spare time was used effectively plastering Christ the Redeemer and Sugarloaf Mountain with Union FS stickers.
Union FS at Sugarloaf Mountain
Christ the Redeemer, mid-grecque
As we arrived in São Paulo for the flight home, we were greeted with the first real visual protest against the hosting of the World Cup. There it was, emblazoned on the banks of the River Tietê – FIFA GO HOME.
Union FS’ flying visit to Sao Paulo
Filbo Spirit 
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