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The Unforgettable World Cup: 31 Days of Triumph and Heartbreak in Brazil
The Unforgettable World Cup: 31 Days of Triumph and Heartbreak in Brazil
The Unforgettable World Cup: 31 Days of Triumph and Heartbreak in Brazil
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The Unforgettable World Cup: 31 Days of Triumph and Heartbreak in Brazil

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The 2014 World Cup brought with it excitement, drama, artistry and disappointment -- both on and off the field. This e-book from The Wall Street Journal collects dispatches from our coverage of the sights, sounds and culture of the world's favorite sport as seen in Brazil, its spiritual home.

We’ve collected highlights from The Journal's coverage of the tournament, added an introductory essay from WSJ Sports Columnist Jason Gay and more to bring you the most interesting, unexpected and insightful reporting from the Journal's correspondents in Brazil and around the world. It looks at everything from the sport itself to the people, places and culture that make the World Cup one of the most engaging sporting events on the planet.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJul 24, 2014
ISBN9781310927652
The Unforgettable World Cup: 31 Days of Triumph and Heartbreak in Brazil

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    The Unforgettable World Cup - The Wall Street Journal

    The Unforgettable World Cup

    COPYRIGHT

    The Unforgettable World Cup: 31 Days of Triumph and Heartbreak in Brazil

    The Wall Street Journal

    Copyright 2014 Dow Jones & Company, Inc.

    Smashwords Edition

    Brazil’s World Cup Was Never Simple, Always Irresistible

    By Jason Gay

    July 15, 2014

    They had a soccer tournament, and the best team won. If only the 2014 World Cup in Brazil were as simple as that.

    Let’s look backward—before Germany’s extra-time victory over Argentina in the final; before the host country’s agonizing, indelible 7-1 loss in the semifinals; before the individual greatness of Lionel Messi, Miroslav Klose, James Rodriguez, Neymar Jr. and Tim Howard. Before 20,000 fans jammed Grant Park in Chicago to watch the U.S. team. Before Luis Suarez launched his infamous incisors.

    Let’s go back to the beginning, to the original idea: a World Cup in Brazil.

    The proposition was both romantic and contentious. The romance was easy: the world’s most important soccer tournament in one of the world’s most obsessive and influential soccer nations, for the first time since 1950. Brazil, winner of five Cups, home of Pelé, its canary yellow jerseys an indisputable symbol of futebol glory…

    A World Cup in Brazil? It felt irresistible.

    It’s not as simple as that, however. Not now, not in the modern era, and as preparation and construction costs spiraled upward past $11 billion, the host country began to signal frustration and even regret.

    Brazil needed so much—better infrastructure, education, health care, opportunity for economic advancement. How was a month-long soccer tournament possibly a wise expenditure? Protests rattled the streets, with outrage directed at both the Brazilian government and FIFA, soccer’s hopelessly embattled governing agency.

    The tournament began June 12 in São Paolo, with Brazil hosting Croatia. Uneasiness lingered, but it was easy to see why soccer wanted to be here: The soaring Arena Corinthians was awash in yellow, the mood anxious and jubilant, tens of millions watching at home. Some of this was familiar: green grass, white lines, 22 players on the field.

    It looked like a soccer game, but it felt like the center of the universe. Brazil stayed that way for four weeks of beautiful madness, from the group stage through the final knockout game.

    It quickly became clear that the planet’s most popular sport was undergoing a startling transition. On day two, Spain—the defending champions, coming off a stretch as possibly the greatest national soccer team ever—was blistered 5-1 by the Netherlands. La Roja would soon be swept out of the competition.

    Surprising contenders emerged. Colombia. Costa Rica. Chile. In the second week, Mexico played Brazil to a brilliant 0-0 draw, assisted by the sticky hands of goalkeeper Guillermo Ochoa.

    The United States, meanwhile, was holding its own in a street fight. Before the tournament, the U.S. men had been given little chance. They’d been assigned to the Group of Death along with powerhouse Germany, Portugal, and Ghana, and their coach, Jurgen Klinsmann, had tried to limit expectations by reasonably claiming a World Cup title was not realistic.

    But in their opener versus Ghana, the U.S. scored thrillingly early and thrillingly late, delivering a 2-1 victory over a squad that had banished them from the previous two Cups. Was the Group of Death escapable?

    Years from now, we will look at the records and see that in the 2014 World Cup, the United States men won a single game, lost two, and tied another. But that pedestrian-looking 1-2-1 offers little insight into the mania that accompanied the U.S. team’s run in Brazil.

    Soccer has long tried to make its case in America—it’s by far the most popular sport among children; there’s a growing domestic league in Major League Soccer; via the Internet, it’s never been easier to follow the international game. But Brazil offered a moment in which all of that passion seemed to intertwine into something deeper, broader, unprecedented.

    As the U.S. men fought on, television ratings reached record levels. Tens of thousands gathered in cities like Kansas City, Boston and Detroit to watch on big screens. Soldier Field, a citadel of American football, became a citadel of the world’s version. From the beaches of Rio to the rainforest of Manaus, it was easy to find swarms of U.S. fans who had made the long trip to urge on the national team.

    Their excitement did not resemble an impulse, fad or temporary affectation. A new generation had arrived. Soccer appears here to stay.

    In the end, what gives the World Cup its heartbreaking edge is its ruthlessness—every team must go but one. The U.S. men evaded the Group of Death but lost in extra time to Belgium in the Round of 16. Then Belgium fell to Argentina. Brazil, clinging to the hope that an imperfect team could locate sudden perfection, was routed by Germany. In the final, before chancellor Angela Merkel and superfan Rihanna, Germany pushed a single extra-time goal past Argentina. After four weeks, it stood alone.

    That was the end result, but this World Cup offered a far richer narrative. What follows here is a collection of The Wall Street Journal’s best coverage from the 2014 tournament—from the early expectations to the final minutes inside Rio’s fabled Maracanã stadium. Like the Cup itself, the story changed day, ranging from the serious (Brazil’s wariness as a host nation) to the absurd (Luis Suarez’s expulsion after biting an Italian opponent).

    The Journal dispatched reporters to every corner of the country. They chronicled the wild drama, on and off the field, along the way. There were late nights, early mornings, missed planes, lost cabs, one pickpocketing, and more than a few caipirinhas and steaks.

    None of it will be forgotten. There is no country quite like Brazil, and no event quite like a World Cup—which was exactly the original idea.

    IN THIS BOOK

    FAREWELL, BRAZIL: REFLECTIONS ON THE CUP

    Portrait of a Meltdown: Brazil’s Road to the Mineirão

    The Craziest World Cup, Ever

    Brazil Is Going to Be Just Fine

    Counterpoint

    64 GAMES TO REMEMBER

    A Festival of ‘Futebol’

    STARS & STORYLINES

    The Dutch Secret to Soccer Success: Field Hockey

    For World Cup Champion Spain, the End Is Here

    The Genius and the Madness of Luis Suárez

    Colombia’s Secret to Success: Pony Fútbol

    Why Isn’t There Another Neymar?

    Germany Forgoes Style for Silverware at the World Cup

    INSIDE TEAM USA’S RUN

    Soccer, Made in America

    Why I Hate American Soccer Fans

    The Team With Four Captains

    Is This Soccer’s Moment in America?

    Jurgen Klinsmann’s Yoda

    What Now for America and Soccer?

    THE WORLD’S GAME ON DISPLAY

    At the World Cup, Citizenship Becomes a Complicated Issue

    The Problem With World Cup Referees

    The World Cup of Exhaustion

    Goodbye, Tiki-Taka; Hello, Fast-Break Soccer

    A World Cup That Doesn’t Want Any of Its Matches to End

    The Best (And Worst) Fans in Brazil

    Soccer Goes Into Attack Mode

    The Official World Cup Celebration Audit

    BRAZIL, UP CLOSE & PERSONAL

    Intense Verses Laid-Back: São Paulo vs. Rio

    ‘Hey, Lettuce Hands!’ and Other Brazilian Lingo

    In Brazil, Girls Are Still Left on the Sidelines in Soccer

    How the World Cup Became the Cup of Memes

    Over $500 Million Later, Brazil’s Maracanã Is Still Cursed

    THE CUP AROUND THE WORLD

    It’s a Matter of ‘Goal!’ vs. ‘Golazo!’

    Now in a TV Studio, Maradona Is Still Taking a Lot of Shots

    The South Americans Sitting Out of the World Cup

    Colombia, 20 Years After Escobar

    Argentina’s Soccer Win Helps Country Forget Woes—For Now

    The World Agrees: Soccer Matches Should Be Free on TV

    ABOUT THIS BOOK

    Portrait of a Meltdown: Brazil’s road to the Mineirão

    By John Lyons

    July 14, 2014

    Brazil’s World Cup meltdown began just as the sun set. Pinks and oranges in the clouds over Mineirão stadium faded to gray. Floodlights burst on like stars. Then Germany scored. And scored again.

    Someone said: If Brazil comes back and wins, this will be one of the greatest games in World Cup history. But it wasn’t. About 60 seconds later Germany scored again, and again and again, on its way to a 7-1 victory.

    Inside the stadium, the Brazilian crowd raced through phases of grief. Disbelieving, they cheered their team on as if there was still a chance. Then, anger: red-faced security guards in orange outfits yelled obscenities at the field. Someone hurled a plastic cup half full of beer. Depression came next: Rows of Brazilian faces, some painted with little flags, turned forlorn.

    Then giddiness took over. Brazilians cheered for Germany. They stood and chanted the bullfighter’s Olé! as Germans played keep-away from the desperate Brazilians. Some giggled excitedly. Stadium volunteer William da Silva, a look-alike for Brazilian star Neymar, mugged for selfies with fans seeking mementos from the collapse of the world’s most successful international soccer team.

    Irony may seem a strange response for fans of the self-proclaimed country of soccer watching the legend of their superiority deflated on home soil, but it reigned as Brazil was booted from the World Cup it spent $11.5 billion to host and expected to win.

    But Brazil had been on a harrowing emotional roller coaster for almost a year by that point; This was only its maddening nadir. The road to the Mineirão was paved with tear gas-soaked protests, fierce debates over the cost of stadiums, and tense obsession over whether the stadiums would even get built on time.

    The collapse of the Seleção was only the latest way the World Cup had exposed the enormous gaps in Brazil’s aspirations and its ability to achieve them. It’s easy to see why some in the crowd might see the team’s historic failure as an absurd joke after everything the country had been through.

    When Brazil won the right to host the Cup seven years earlier, then-President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva said it would showcase a new Brazil rising in prestige and wealth amid a commodity boom. The country would not only win the Cup, but build a high-speed rail line to take fans to Rio to celebrate. Brazilians poured out of buildings in jubilation.

    The bullet train never got built. In 2013, seething frustrations with the economy’s unfulfilled promise boiled over in mass marches and clashes soaked in tear gas. By the time the Cup rolled around, the protests had fizzled out. Nothing much had changed, and glumness loomed.

    On the morning of the opening game in São Paulo, it was hard to tell a World Cup was getting underway anywhere, much less down the road. Brazilians are known to hang streamers and paint their streets in the green and yellow of the country’s flag at Cup time. There was almost none of that. On opening day, at the Itaquerão, São Paulo was cold, drizzly and flagless.

    Tension seethed beneath the gloominess. A scuffle broke out between anti-Cup students and a Seleção supporter in the Tatuapé subway station. The protesters had occupied the subway, chanting There Won’t Be a Cup. Locals from working class Tatuapé piled up at the station, unable to get to Cup parties.

    A young Tatuapé woman in a Brazil t-shirt, tears streaming down her face, pleaded with a bearded protester to go away so we can use the metro and go where we need to go. A mob of protesters surrounded her, chanting Nao Vai Ter Copa!

    A female protester in a black dress, stockings and boots burst from the crowd and knocked the woman down.

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