On the Ground at the World Cup: Even His Countrymen Are Embarrassed by Fred's Dive

The Alzirão is the name of a street party that started 36 years ago on Haddock Lobo avenue in Tijuca. This year, FIFA tried to ban it but the Northsider's ignored them. Thousands of fans drinking beer, cachaça, and colored plastic tubes of cachaça mixed with Kool-Aid, gathered in front of a giant TV screen to take in the game.

Last night, 48% of Brazilians chose Croatia as the winner. Croatia, tiny and fierce with loyal fans, is a giant killer. In 1998, they knocked Germany out of the Cup 3-0, and Brazilians haven't come close to forgetting about that.

The game kicked off in a drunken, celebratory frenzy. The crowd around me, full of moms, kids ,and little old ladies, gossiped about the players. They decided that Hulk was the best-looking guy on the team, because of his "ten kilos of ass." Whatever works.

The mood turned rather quickly following Marcelo's own goal. I cursed him to the high heavens. A woman beside me said, "Hey man, lighten up. There are eleven people on the team. He's a good guy. Anyone can make a mistake."

Such reasoning did not sit well with my cantankerous English friend, who said: "You fucking American. Do you even know how to kick a football? It's only nine minutes into the game."

Neymar soon equalized and we were all happily covered in beer. A tall man pushed his way in front of me and another guy hoisted his son on his shoulders.

Then came the controversial penalty. The slow motion replay showed that it was an obvious dive by Fred, still Neymar converted the penalty kick and, once the cheering died down, the grumbling began

"Why did FIFA bring so many refs from small countries into the Cup?" a woman next to me said. "We don't need this. Brazil is big enough to win without cheating. If we don't make another goal, this is going to look ridiculous."

As the game came to a close, Oscar saved the day. Thankfully, at 3-1, nobody could blame the victory on poor officiating. The crowd in the bar sang "The Champion has returned" as strangers hugged and patted each other on the back. The beer flowed, the party continued, and I got blissfully drunk.

Brian Mier is an American ex-pat who lives in Rio. He is the author of Slow Ride. His previous work for Vice can be viewed here.