The Unstoppable Force of Football

My son is a century younger than FC Porto. He was born in 1993, just before the start of Portuguese football's only 'penta' (five consecutive league titles). Unlike many parents and grandparents, I never registered him as an FC Porto member, nor did I directly or consciously influence him to support my club. In fact, he initially claimed to be a Sporting fan, which I had to tolerate, hoping he would eventually see the light and find the right path.

A few weeks before his 6th birthday (during the 'penta' year), I asked him:

— What do you want for your birthday?

— A Sporting jersey, he replied.

I resigned myself and started thinking about asking a Sporting-supporting friend to do me the favor of buying one...

But the forces of good and reason, even when working silently, are incredibly powerful. And one day, as we were playing ball in the hallway, much to his mother's annoyance, he told me:

— Dad, I'm actually an FC Porto fan!

I was thrilled.

— Are you sure? You don't want the Sporting jersey anymore?

— No, I want an FC Porto jersey.

No sooner said than done. The following weekend, I got in the car with him, and we drove to Porto. Destination: Estádio das Antas. The team usually trained on a pitch behind the stadium, so we went there to try and see them. No one was around.

— No training today?

— They're at Parque da Cidade.

Off we went. First, I stopped at the FC Porto store and bought a jersey and a football.

At Parque da Cidade, we saw the players running and relaxing from a distance. In the shade, the coach and technical staff waited for the run and stroll to finish. I boldly approached Fernando Santos, introduced myself, and explained the situation. My son's birthday was coming up, he wanted to see the FC Porto players, and I had bought him a ball and a jersey, which I hoped they would sign.

Fernando Santos was the first. He signed it, and after him, André, one of Porto's most brilliant legends. We were ecstatic. And then, the players arrived. I went again, full of nerve, to talk to them. Paulinho Santos was leading the way. He took the ball, signed it, and called over the other players.

— Come here and sign the kid's ball!

They all came, every single one signed. And if anyone got distracted and walked past us without signing, Paulinho would call them back, making sure no one missed out. We left Parque da Cidade and Porto with full hearts. We had an XS-sized jersey and a giant ball, signed by all the players who sealed the 'penta,' plus the technical staff.

Since that day, my son has never changed clubs. The ball is still there, in his room. He's a member, like me, watches the games from afar, and is free to choose. Fortunately, he chose the best.

The World Cup isn't just a tournament for national teams; it's also a World Cup for fans. And they are truly making it a celebration! I want to highlight two groups of supporters: the Norwegians and the Scots, who are emptying bars and filling stadiums with infectious joy. Bagpipes and imaginary rowing are extraordinary manifestations of football's power and influence.

And as if their celebrations weren't enough, they even come together to celebrate collectively, using that wonderful and epic language of happiness that comes from belonging, all of them, to the immense tribe of football – the football of the ball, of goals, of emotions and passions, the football of rivalry without hatred, the same football that greets and knows how to lose with as much humility as it knows how to win with elegance. But always in celebration, preferably with shouts. Let them dry out the bars, but never their throats!

The problem is, if we flip this around, we see the dark side of football. But our luck — our hope! — is that where there's business, smuggling, black markets, and speculation, fans counter with joy, joviality, madness, and celebration.

If this ends, the soul and passion of football will be gone. If this ends, football will become a subsidiary of Transfermarkt, managed by agents and intermediaries, more concerned with metrics and petrodollars than with the unpredictable genius of a footballer who can electrify stadiums. What would football be without the fans? I don't want to know the answer; let's pretend this is a rhetorical question.

I know much less about Cape Verde than I'd like. But I love everything I do know. I love the country and its places, I love the atmosphere and the music, I love the food and the beaches, and above all, I love the people of Cape Verde. They are friendly, kind, imbued with a genuine desire to help, connect, and share. I often say I'm an adopted son of Cape Verde and that I'd love to spend my final days of retirement and rest there.

That's why I feel such emotion for the Cape Verdean national team's wonderful dream at the World Cup. It's a dream filled with soul, confidence, and a strong desire to be there to show Cape Verde to the world, as it deserves to be seen and known.

Whatever happens next Friday, Cape Verde has already won this World Cup. Who would have thought, at the time of qualification, that the Blue Sharks would play against the world champions in a knockout game? Who can say what will happen? No one, really.

But it's also true that Cape Verde's anthem provides the answer: "hope is as vast as the sea that embraces us."

Forty years ago, Portugal participated in its second World Cup. It was the World Cup of shame, for everything that happened and shouldn't have. Forty years later, here we are again at another World Cup, partially played in Mexico, but with impeccable logistical and technical conditions. Everything seems to have been corrected, all lessons seem to have been learned.

But what happened in Saltillo in 1986 cannot be forgotten. It must remain in our memory forever. That's why I recommend a careful reading of a book written by Pedro Adão e Silva and João Tomaz: 'Deixem-nos Sonhar – Caso Saltillo: Portugal e o México 86' (Let Us Dream – The Saltillo Case: Portugal and Mexico 86). The work is already nine years old, but the topic, fortunately or unfortunately, never dies.

Many believe Saltillo was football's '25 de Abril' (Portugal's Carnation Revolution). Perhaps it was the '25 de Novembro' (a counter-coup). But that's not the point. What matters, for those who enjoy understanding the past, is to grasp what happened and what caused the players' revolt. The judgments, those are up to each individual. 'Deixem-nos Sonhar – Caso Saltillo: Portugal e o México 86,' by Pedro Adão e Silva and João Tomaz.