Culture Shock

Moves abroad aren't for all insular Brazilian phenoms

In the summer of 1988, Brazilian striker Müller left São Paulo to join Torino of Italy. Some 19 years later, in the middle of 2007, Corinthians attacking midfielder Willian embarked on his own European adventure, moving to Ukrainian club Shakhtar Donetsk.

Last week, the pair were together in a roundtable debate on Brazilian TV, and it made for a fascinating contrast of what has happened to soccer and society over the past two decades.

Müller was 22 when he crossed the Atlantic. At the time, he was considered relatively young for such a move, but he was taking plenty of baggage with him. He was a senior international, had appeared in the '86 World Cup and had won the Brazilian Championship with São Paulo.

Willian was nearly 19 when he received the call, and whereas Müller was already proven, Willian had little more than potential. He played for Brazil last January in the South American Under-20 Championships, and while he showed flashes of promise, it was clear he was well short of being a finished product. And after scoring just two goals in senior Brazilian soccer, he was on his way.

This, though, is the trend of globalization. The concentration of talent in a small number of top European clubs has consequences at both ends; the clubs want to buy and mould the South American players at an ever earlier age. And the players, who used to dream of playing for Flamengo and Corinthians, now have their sights set on a move abroad. I have spoken to promising 8-year-old Brazilian kids who couldn't find Europe -- let alone Spain -- on a map, but know they want to play for Real Madrid or Barcelona.

The fact is, though, is that living abroad isn't for everyone. In the '80s, when British players were still tempted abroad, the great Scottish writer Hugh McIlvanney commented that the average one was "more tourist than emigrant, a man so reluctant to immerse himself in the ways of his adopted country that he might be expected to take the field with a return ticket tucked into his sock."

Nowadays, with the rivers of money flowing through the Premiership, British players are more inclined to stay home. Their footballing education may well suffer as a result -- in Brazilian soccer there are those, such as Carlos Alberto Parreira, who argue that their players develop in tactical terms from playing abroad. Current national-team coach Dunga prefers to emphasize the opportunities to grow as an adult and a professional that arise from leaving Brazil's paternalistic culture.

But whatever the potential gains, they come at a cost of dealing with the inevitable culture shock. The Brazilians can be every bit as insular as those British players McIlvanney was describing -- the difference is that these days, to fulfil their earning potential and be considered world-class players, Brazilians are obliged to move overseas.

I have two Brazilian stepdaughters. Last year, one of them spent a few months putting on samba shows in Spain. She was struck by the behavior of the group. On days off they would organize Brazilian barbecues. On free nights they went to a Brazilian nightclub. There was not the slightest curiosity to learn about their new surroundings.

In an activity such as samba, this insularity causes no harm. But this kind of behavior is clearly harmful to a footballer playing abroad, who must find some kind of common denominator with his teammates.

This is not always easy for Brazilians. The image of happy, outgoing people is something of a myth, the conscious creation of '30s and '40s Brazilian fascism, which sponsored and censored Carnaval to disseminate the idea of a contented population.

In reality, Brazilians can be somewhat shy. And as Brazilian sports psychologist Regina Brandão has researched, they can be very prone to negative thinking, especially in unfamiliar surroundings.

During the TV roundtable debate, Müller recalled that after he had spent a while with Torino, he was taken aside and asked to show more willingness to integrate with the group. He said it was wise counsel, which opened up new possibilities for him, and he advised Willian to do the same.

The youngster joined a Shakhtar team which already contains a strong contingent of Brazilians, such as Ilsinho, Brandão and Fernandinho. And it isn't only with his teammates that Willian is in touch with his native culture. He said he's in regular contact with former Corinthians teammates over e-mail, and that his TV is permanently tuned in to Brazil's Globo international channel.

None of this existed when Müller joined Torino. As he said, it was even before the era of the cell phone. The other participants of the roundtable debate concluded that this technological development makes it easier for Brazilian players to adapt. I'm not so sure.

To laughs of agreement from the rest of the panel, Willian commented that there was no point in switching his TV to a Ukrainian channel. I think he's making a big mistake. As someone who taught himself another language while living abroad, I can testify that local TV is a magnificent aid -- especially the news.

First, the news is usually spoken in clear language that is much, much easier to understand than street speak. Secondly, it supplies a glimpse of the issues that are considered important in the country. A few months' effort watching the news would only help the youngster's integration.

But like no generation before, Willian can live in Ukraine with his head in Brazil. The march of technology allows the individual to inhabit his own little world. But that isn't necessarily an advantage in a collective sport such as soccer.

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2008/writers/tim_vickery/01/08/brazilians.abroad/