Maracanã Stadium was perhaps the greatest embodiment, alongside the beaches, of a certain myth of cordial coexistence -- at once sordid and affectionate -- in the city of Rio de Janeiro. The stadium was designed, in 1950, to be attended by fans of all social classes, but not on equal terms. It was spatially divided, as if each fan had to know their place in society: the poorest in the general standing area, the middle class in the bleachers, the better-off in the blue seats, and the even better-off in their reserved seats.
A geral do Maracanã. Autor não identificado, 1972. Arquivo Nacional/Fundo Correio da Manhã
This fabulation of the old Maracanã as a democratic space, however, still allowed for two things that made us believe in a less unjust city: the belief in a model of cordial cohesion, in which differences became evident in the space but were diluted within a certain shared imaginary of love for football; and the possibility of inventing affections and forms of sociability within what was most precarious. The geral -- that provisional precariousness -- ended up being the place where the most unusual and original ways of cheering emerged.
Since the Mario Filho Journalist Stadium was built on the ground of the old villages, cut through by the waters flowing down from the Tijuca massif and mirrored by the waters of Guanabara Bay, the temple of football will never be a merely functional space reduced to a place where football matches are played. In other words, what we mean is that, insofar as the city's most diverse souls practice "Maraca," it becomes a ritual time and space.
Faixa da torcida do Flamengo em apoio ao time, 2021 Foto: Maracanã/Twitter
It's not just because the most famous football stage on the planet has cradled the firm footsteps of the preto-velho who came down at the gira, recited the creed with the Pope, and watched generations of children having fits of excitement waiting for old Saint Nick to come down from a helicopter right onto the pitch. Maracanã stadium has been -- and continues to be -- an endless source of inspiration for storylines. There, bodies skilled in dribbling and bodies skilled in tackling dance together, along with small joys and epic frustrations, all-too-human stars and enchanted ordinary people.
If the little bets made there were directed toward other wagers, every betting house in this city would already be broke. Maracanã carries one of the main traits of the people of this place: we are of the game, the ginga, and the faith.
Autor não identificado, 1972. Arquivo Nacional/Fundo Correio da Manhã
The Maracanã that many knew no longer exists. It may be that a lot of things will still change, for better or worse; that's a matter of the playing field that VAR can't review. The point is that in the rounds of forest, river, bay, bleachers, pickup soccer fields, bars, backyards, or even the living room at home, there will be someone who sings out loud and strong the passing chant for one of the most beautiful entities of our carioca terreiro.
O fascínio e adoração da torcida.
Autor não identificado, 1972. Arquivo Nacional/Fundo Correio da Manhã