[ad_1]
I sat at the cage for the last three fights of UFC 237 last Saturday in Rio de Janeiro. I watched them as a journalist, of course, but also as a Brazilian.
And as a Brazilian who had just seen an exhausted Youth Arena deflate like a ball with the defeats of former champions Jose Aldo and Anderson Silva, an idea came to my mind as Rose Namajunas seemed to be giving Jessica Andrade same destiny.
"Uh-oh."
I caught myself right then and there. "I should not say uh-oh," I thought. I am a journalist. Personal feelings do not play in that. And even if they did, they would not against Namajunas. In fact, I became a big admirer of his before the fight. I did not want her to lose. I would not have been upset if she had won.
I put so much study and care in my interviews, whether with Brazilians or not. I put the same passion in writing their stories, whether Brazilian or not. In fact, those who know me often tell me how much I am non-Brazilian. I consume American culture. I write for a website based in the United States. I mostly use English music. I really did not have this unhealthy obsession with peanut butter and the real crime documentaries on the part of my Brazilian counterparts.
But nights like Saturday, I guess you could say my Brazilian sneaks up to me.
It's hard to explain what it means and how it relates to my life, work, and long-standing involvement in the sport. It's difficult especially because I can not understand it myself. But what I can say is that it does not come from a place of personal preference. This does not mean that I like the Brazilians better, or that I think a Brazil win will be more beneficial for me or my job.
It just means that I have a different understanding of what many of these Brazilians are, but what they represent. It may be different for others, but I do not think I can ever completely detach myself from certain situations.
Although the noisy and potentially intoxicated people who surround me in the bleachers have had quite different experiences and perspectives from mine, I can hear them in a very special way when Aldo is heading to the octagon to listen to their roaring songs. And when the "King of Rio" comes out of the head, as his address the victorious and delighted opponent his crowdI can not help feeling some of that pain too.
When Silva collapsed, I was brought back with them to that fateful night of UFC 162. I did not look at him in person. However, I was in front of my television the next morning when Brazil's most traditional Sunday program appeared on the screen with many live hits informing us of Silva's status.
At the time, I complained about the degree of exaggeration of this coverage. I thought it was just a broken leg. But that showed what Silva means for the country. I had previously worked in MMA at the time and I could not escape questions about his fate or what was going to happen.
I am not Silva's friend, I am not Silva's family and, in fact, I only interviewed him a few times. But as someone who has been involved with MMA in Brazil for many years and has always been passionate about it, Silva is also part of me.
Everyone knows how much people like Silva, Aldo and Andrade had to overcome their difficulties to be where they are. They know it because, for years, many of us have told their stories. But while it is easy to put their stories into words, it is not so easy to put them into perspective.
As universally relatable as the stories "pull yourself", they have a typically, deeply, painfully Brazilian nature. The issues of social mobility in Brazil – or in the world in reality – are complex and will be discussed differently depending on your political views. That's not what I'm trying to understand. My point is that when it comes to beating the odds, these people are winners.
What size in a country like ours? I would like to be able to explain. But, as a privileged person who never had to live that, I do not think I understand perfectly. Sometimes I do not even think they do it.
When Andrade is sitting on this stage, she laughs as she talks about those moments when she just wanted to have enough money to offer a box spring and a big TV to watch the fighting, I'm still in the process of think of all the alternative universes in which this girl, who grew up on a farm and provided drugs for a living, never could celebrate having her own home to share with his wife and his dogs.
I remember the time when Andrade sat in front of a handful of reporters to talk about her first title attempt at the UFC and say that she had always told her mother that She would not only be wealthy, but she would be the "richest poor person of all time" because she really wanted to share what she had with others.
I was not part of those conquests. I have not helped any of these people accomplish the wonders they have. But I wrote about them, produced excerpts about them, told stories about them for so many years that did not leave me indifferent.
Especially not when there is an arena full of very enthusiastic people shouting their names in unison.
Evenings like UFC 237, I remember how good I am Brazil. How much of my life was MMA. And how grateful I am, despite all the times I've been disappointed with both, for all the lessons they've taught me.
For full coverage of UFC 237, see the UFC Events section of the site.
[ad_2]
Source link