My Football Team

It has been a long time since I took to the keyboard to write some of my experiences, feelings, and observations of what goes on around me.

I worked all my life and never wanted any other way. At the young age of eight or ten, I was asked, what I wanted to do when I grew up, a doctor, a fireman, a football player, a movie star, the country president, or what. My ambitions were not that high, and I had no intention to go to schools for a long time to become any kind of professional. I finally decided, and reply to the question, “I want to be a salesman, like my father.” He traveled regularly, and when he would come back home, he had money and adventurous tails to tell us.

I wanted to be like him. I wanted to be like my father.

Twelve years old, precautious talker with a great imagination realized that if I could bring to town items that most people wanted, make them available, people would buy from me, and if I bought for less then I sold for, I would have money left over, of as it is called; a profit.

Now the real challenge was to find products or services I could provide in my neighborhood that others would want and buy. Not a difficult task for a young boy with imagination, energy, and perseverance to accomplish the tasks.

My small “barrio” had no youth soccer team, and no adult wanted to put the time to organize one, to get equipment, find a coach, and find teams to play against. So my first challenge was to convince players to play for ME. A twelve-year-old that was not a star player, just a mediocre goalkeeper. Until now, we play in the public parks and playgrounds, what we called a “Pelada.” One team would keep their shirts on, and the other bear their chests, basically naked in our shorts or underwear.

To unify our team, we needed uniforms, number five professional soccer balls, and soccer shoes with cleats and all. We needed to look good as if we were local champions.

There was no sponsors initially, so I went around begging for money from sympathetic locals that could afford to make small donations for our Cause. Found a store that sold uniforms and equipment, convincing the merchants to sell me shirts and stuff at a discounted price, and bought one shirt at the time, balls and a few pairs of soccer shoes, and now was able to show off the uniform of the future team, “Mundial Futebol Clube.”

Sponsors start to line up with money and help to buy all the equipment needed.

Finding talented players was not too difficult in a poor and middle-class neighborhood in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. As soon as the word was out that someone started a new club, with an official name and uniforms, we had enough players and teams from around the area began to inquire about paying against us, and a small league of eight teams was formed, a schedule was worked out, with the help of some adults.

The team was not bad, and we made a good impression, but the games were played in other neighborhoods, and we had to travel, and we needed more money for the train tickets and food away from home. We needed another source of income to cover expenses.

I was too young to sell drugs safely, so I had to find merchandise of value, hard to find locally, and trade with enough profit to cover the cost of travels. I found what we needed in illegal fireworks, bought out of State and sold them with a substantial profit, enough to keep the team traveling, fed, and equipped with our red shirts, dark shorts, and soccer shoes.

Problems.

I now had an organized team that played well, look good, have money to travel, and extra income to support the team, and I was only twelve years of age, and not an indispensable player, so I was quickly cast out as leader of the organization, replaced by some 25 years old.

That was how I became a salesperson, like my father.