Brazilians Grumble and Take Stock After Crushing World Cup Loss
RIO DE JANEIRO — As Brazil tried to absorb the shock of its 7-1 loss to Germany in the World Cup, the rout offered a vivid reminder of how the fortunes of the national soccer team can mirror how Brazilians view their society even as other traumas recede into history.
The hosting of the World Cup has been politicized from the moment FIFA, the scandal-tarred organization that oversees global soccer, awarded the tournament to Brazil in 2007. Back then, the economy was booming and the president, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, viewed the Cup as an opportunity to celebrate Brazil’s achievements on the global stage.
Now the economy is sluggish, in its fourth consecutive year of slow growth. While the feat of lifting millions out of poverty over the past decade remains intact, Mr. Lula da Silva’s handpicked successor, Dilma Rousseff, has grappled with widespread protests over political corruption and spending on lavish stadiums.
Just last week, a survey suggested that Brazilians were softening in their views of the Cup, buoyed by a series of stunning matches and a lack of major problems in the hosting of the tournament itself. Antigovernment protests had dwindled substantially, even though discontent continued to smolder over the public financing of stadiums when other large-scale projects remained unfinished.
The effect of Tuesday’s devastating loss on the presidential elections later this year may be hard to gauge. Ms. Rousseff, while less popular than at the start of her term, remains well ahead of her rivals in polls.
In 1998, Brazil’s national team also stunned the country, losing in the final, but the president then, Fernando Henrique Cardoso, won re-election.
“It may be true that the performance in the Cup hasn’t influenced an election,” said Igor Gielow, the director of the Brasília bureau of the newspaper Folha de S. Paulo, “but it’s equally correct that we’ve never been so humiliated before, and never on our own soil.”
Roberto da Matta, 77, a well-known anthropologist, said, “Soccer has long served as Brazil’s symbol of excellence, an area where Brazil could surpass any country in Europe, any country in the world.”
As a boy in 1950, Mr. da Matta witnessed Brazil’s only comparable debacle, the loss at Maracanã Stadium to Uruguay that is called the Maracanazo. Brazil offset that loss with five World Cup championships, more than any other nation, but it remained a scar on the national psyche.
“My hope is that we’re finally at the end of a cycle,” Mr. da Matta continued, “helping us pay more attention to problems in the country and less to how soccer affects our perception in the world.”
On Wednesday, newspapers carried articles about psychologists advising parents on how to help their children cope. Flavio Spina, an engineer in São Paulo, gained notoriety after it became known that he had dreamed of a 7-1 loss, posting his nightmare on Facebook before the game.
“Since I drank a little, I even asked a friend, ‘Can this really be happening?’ ” he told reporters. “Can it be true?”
Brazil, of course, is a far different country from the Brazil at the time of the Maracanazo. Incomes have risen, illiteracy has diminished, democracy is more broadly entrenched and industrial companies have become giants. Outside Petrobras, the national oil company based here, Celso Lacerda, 35, an employee, said: “The game was kind of shocking, but I don’t think there’s much else to say. If this had happened in previous eras, there would be a bigger impact on Brazil.”
Others tried putting the defeat into perspective in a country where the national soccer players have traditionally been treated with a reverence far beyond most people’s grasp.
“Personal accomplishments are so hard to come by here, that people are drawn to where they find collective success,” said José Oliveira Tavares, an accountant in São Paulo. “It’s not how things should be, but I understand it.”
Still, for many Brazilians, the humiliation of losing in such a way, especially after waiting 64 years to host the tournament after the fiasco of 1950, continued to sting.
“This feels like a punch in the stomach,” said Gabriel Emiliano, 30, the owner of a company renting video equipment in Brasília. “I’m very sad, and very shocked, and also ashamed.”
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