A lot of life, a little bit of football
Let me tell you about my grandpa
Previously on The Good Football:
Dear Aitana,
How to lose a fan in 100 years
Earlier this month, my grandpa left this weird world after 106, almost 107, years very well lived. Can you imagine living that many years, and it still not being enough for those who love you and stayed? He’s one of my favourite people in the most literal sense of the phrase, and I don’t know anyone who has met him and didn’t love him.
This won’t be a “what football brands can learn from my grandpa” kind of post. No LinkedIn-style lesson stretching. I just want to dedicate this to his memory and tell you a little bit about him. But the thing is, if I’m talking about him, it’s impossible not to talk about football.
Amid all the colours, sounds, smells, and memories stored in my mind from the lifetime we shared — the colours of his house, the sound of his cavaquinho, the laughs, the jokes he’d always tell — football is always there, mixed into it all.
Whenever I visited on a Saturday or Sunday, the TV was probably tuned to a match — it didn’t matter who was playing. That, chorinho, laughter, and birdsong were the sounds of his house. He wouldn’t wear football jerseys because he hated shirts “that had to be put on through your head,” but I still remember the saddle on his bicycle, stamped with a big Botafogo logo.
He played for the local team in his youth, back when player positions still had English names. We used to make him list them out for us, just to hear how they pronounced them. It was a mix of phonetic invention and not knowing what the words even meant that always cracked us up.
He met my grandma in the stands of that same local pitch where he played. He saw all five of Brazil’s World Cup wins, and all the great players play — according to him, no one was better than Pelé. Who are we, non-eyewitnesses, to disagree?
I watched my team win the Brazilian league in 2001 from his living room. And in 2006, I was there again, crying, when Thierry Henry scored that goal against Brazil.
Our last conversation was about the Women’s Champions League final, which he’d watched with my dad because I was there. We agreed it was a shame we didn’t win, especially since Barça was one of his favourite teams. He was culer before it was cool.
It wasn’t him who introduced me to women’s football, and I didn’t inherit the love for my team from him, but he always embraced the things I loved (and happily co-disliked the ones I didn’t). Because of me, he was also a Furacão fan.
Watching football with him was always just fun. I never saw him angry or aggressive toward the other team, never bitter or overinvested. I might need to investigate where that gene mutated in me. Ahem. He did pass on an aversion to Flamengo, but even that was endearing, because he’d only talk trash using fancy, perfectly pronounced words. If someone teased him about his team, he’d laugh with them. Usually, he was the first to joke about his own side.
I don’t think he ever suffered the way many of us do from loving football. Somehow, he found the perfect way to enjoy the game, and maybe that’s why it was there, with him, throughout his 106 years of life. I think there are only a few passions in this world powerful enough to last that long.
Of course, my grandpa stories go far beyond football. He was so funny, always trying to make us laugh, or just making us laugh and often doing it without even trying. Like when, in his 90s or something, he said he’d buy an “old man mask” to wear while selling medicinal mixtures, so he’d look more believable as a wise old healer. lol.
He was also always trying to feed me something. Always baffled if I refused coffee or anything else to drink. “You’re going to eat this… dry?” he’d ask, incredulous. Coffee time was his favourite. He’d keep an eye on the clock until it was time, and when it finally was, he’d say it was time to “tomar um Cafú.” See? Football. Everywhere.
He’d buy my favourite cookies when he knew I was coming, or anything else I ever mentioned liking. One of my earliest memories is walking into his house and heading straight to the kitchen table, waiting for him to pour me a glass of capilé, a sticky-sweet, orange syrup mixed into juice that I knew would always be waiting for me at his house.
My grandpa was kind, attentive, patient, the sweetest man you could possibly meet. He was creative, faith-filled, and oh so curious, asking questions about everything. He had a rare mix of qualities that made him a 106-year-old man who was still so present in the world and in his life, right up to the end. His age was really just a number on a piece of paper (surrounded by controversy, but that’s a story for another time).
Because of him, I learned to value and appreciate seniors even more, and cultivate real friendships with them. If you’ve never tried it, I recommend it.
It is really hard to imagine a world without him, because it’s one I don’t know. Because of his old age, losing him has probably been my biggest fear for years now, especially living so far and getting less in-person time with him lately. In fact, in the past years, a handful of my biggest fears have come true, and I am still here. It’s strange to watch that change, and change me at the same time. And as tempting as it is to replace this fear with a new one — like forgetting the sound of his voice or his laugh — I want to instead make room for the feelings that are as big as him, and do my best to honour his life and legacy for the rest of mine.
And part of that, inevitably, is this platform. Or any of the work I do that aspires to do good — in and out of football. I am shaped and inspired by my grandpa’s modest, quiet life that became big and meaningful in its unassumptuousness.
There’s a lot in life I don’t know. And I still get confused about what I want sometimes. But one of the few things I do know is I want to be like my grandpa.
THE GOOD LINKS
🤯 Everybody, look at this goal my team scored last night - hey, we’re still alive.
🍒 This clever and very, very important campaign.
💡 A piece on athlete climate advocacy vs investment from
.🙂↕️ Everything about this video.
👏 An important documentary.
🇧🇷 Hey hey hey - Brazil is back in the top 4 of the FIFA Women’s World Ranking.
COMPLETELY OFFSIDE
Links that are not football-related but still worth sharing.
🥹 How many times have you watched the Hamilton 10th anniversary reunion performance at the Tonys? Because I’ve lost count.
🎙️ When we thought there was no more room for a new podcast, Amy Poehler came to prove us wrong. As a Jack Black lover, I must recommend this episode as the ideal starting point.
I must have gotten a bit of dust in my eyes while reading this.
Thank you, sweetheart, for this beautiful and heartfelt gesture. Your love, gratitude, admiration and respect for him were always so clear, and I’m certain he returned those feelings with deep love, affection, joy and prayer. He is the love of our lives.