The Wrestling Season Part 4
[6/2/2002 3:48:39 PM..............
Cobras/Corporal Meet; Antonio Guenaga Municipal Gym, Santos
When I stepped outside, the first thing I saw was the van waiting for me. Mr. Costa was behind the wheel, smiling as he greeted me; Coach Rodrigo was at his side and the kids were in the back seat, making a lot of noise. They made me promise there would be no talk on Monday, since it was Brazil's first game in the Cup, against Turkey. I did try to protest, but they reminded me there would be no training on June 8th, when Brazil would play China, and I surrendered. Despite the normal joy and excitement kids usually have, there was a note of tension in the air the kids tried hard to release by playing tricks and jokes on each other, as the van glided through the streets of the city heading for Rebouças Municipal Gym. The place was already full. I looked at my watch and it was 7:50.
The kids went down to the locker rooms to get ready and it was fascinating to see them in full gear, for my first
The Wrestling Season Part 3
[5/26/2002 5:45:04 PM..............
Yesterday, what I could wrench from Figueira was that he was going to try to act more and more like a gentleman and not to talk during his matches anymore.
"You won't want me to have a hankie too, will you?", he said smiling.
I'm on the Internet now. Writing about these things. Thinking of Figueira and how strange he can be. The call to fight, as described, funny how it would stick to my memory. I lend the event an almost epic dimension; it doesn't matter whether it's real or not, what matters it is fascinating; something, however, I must keep to myself, because whatever is against the rules of wrestling I'll have to help the kids cut out. It's not saying what they must do or how they must behave on the mat. What it boils down to is that I need to help them see the reason why they've chosen this sport. And being it what they really want, they'll have to reinforce their commitment with it more and more. This is the least they can do for a sport they l
The Wrestling Season Part 2
[5/12/2002 4:47:03 PM..............
Today there is no practice ou therapy with the kids, each one is at home right now, telling their moms how much they love them. Mother's Day, I write a letter to my mom in Campos Elísios. Been a long time since I last saw her. Need to go there one day to visit her. I miss the wind that blows throughout the land, that limitless blue sky, the childhood friends I don't even know if I can still find living in that city. I like Santos very much, but I know not many friends here. My life is full of tribulation, so I don't have time for friendship, chat with a circle of friends around a table full of bottles of beer, though I don't drink, I must recognize I miss these moments and hold them dear. Staying alone like this through nights and days can eventually make you think it's a natural thing. A voluntary isolation as the one preached by Rainer Maria Rilke, isolation we can learn to live together with ourselves with. There are people, and they're not few, w
The Wrestling Season Part 1
[5/2/2002 4:56:20 AM..............
I received a phone call in the afternoon. A man with an apparently young voice, expressing himself at ease, informally, but with great confidence in the tone of voice, in a self-secure, direct way. He introduced himself as the director of a wrestling association. He said he was looking for a professional with a certain profile that happened to be like many things I have lived through. I felt somehow it suited me. We talked and exchanged addresses. At about eight p.m. he parked his car in front of my house and rang the doorbell. He was really young, not above 30. He introduced himself as Lúcio Costa, reminding me of the architect of Brasília. Had him sit down on the sofa and asked what a director of a wrestling association would want from me. I was live and direct then; ele looked at me, considering me for a moment, my broken rib cage. I explained it was an accident, upon noticing his interest. I hid the fact it had been a fight too. He made a movement