Party Like a Brazillian

One thing the Brazillians know how to do is party. I'm serious, they're like a whole cut above the other fans. It's like football is just an excuse to get togethe and have a good time.

There's like a critical mass. When enough Brazillians and one drum get together in one place, a party spontaneously combusts. It only takes ten or twenty Brazillians to start something rolling into a first class celebration.

It starts long before the actual game begins, when the fans begin swarming to the city. It doesn't have to be the actual city that the game is being held in, but of course, if it is so, you get more fans and bigger parties.

The beat of choice is samba, and two things immediately strike you: That every Brazillian seems to know how the rhythm goes, and every Brazillian knows how to move to that rhythm.

Suffice to say, I don't. But I can bop from foot to foot, mildly recalling the four lessons I had in the samba. Nothing compared to how the actual Brazillian girls move though, you understand.

Even immediately before the game, there's no letup. Everyone jives all the way to the stadium with quick impromptu bursts of rhythm.

And it's all amazingly good natured. There's no hostility involved, which is extremely foreign to somebody who has followed English football. There's no taunting of the opposition, there are no rude songs and - as far as I can make it - no rude language of any sort.

Fun for all the family. The kids are there, dancing away, everyone from babies to grandmothers. Mothers encourage daughters to provacatively jiggle their hips in time with the music. It's the samba, baby.

When the game begins, everyone's focus is on the pitch. Every trick by Ronaldinho is punctuated by drumbeats from the crowd. Every shimmy, every wrong-footed pass is celebrated, even if it doesn't lead to the goal. The result matters, sure, but the living of the game is what they look forward to. The only time they even come close to booing is when the ball is passed back to the goalkeeper. Or when Diego Maradona appears on the screen.

Near misses are rewarded with groans. And everyone does it. It's infectious, focussing on the gamee, and waiting for that glorious moment, when the ball hits the back of the net.

When it finally does, when the goal is scored... my word. Other people just cheer the goal, wave their flags and chant the name of their team. With the Brazillians, it's cheer the goal, jump up and down in the air, and then beat that rhythm on the drums, and dance. And dance. And dance. And dance.

The game has restarted, but still the dancing and singing continues. Bra-zil, Bra-zil. When you're trapped in the crowd, there's nothing you can really do but join in. Bounce up aand down in time to the rhythm and get showered by drinks and ice spilt by the bystanders. Who cares what gets wet, Brazil just scored a goal.

The celebrations only die down when Brazil mount another goal threatening attack, and then all the attention is on the field again.

When the whistle blows, and if Brazil win, it's time to party again. And they're partying for up to an hour after the game ends, singing variations of what sounds like the same song over and over.

Well, I lie. Strictly they party all night long. God, I don't know what to expect if they win the World Cup.

Labels: germany, world cup