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Not taste of soccer because my father wanted to have a son man, but in the lack of compelled to one to attend me ribbons of 82 and 86, and to go all the ends of week to stadiums, for it I oppose in the sundays to the afternoon my father preferred to sleep to see soccer, and to ask in the following morning what I had found of the game so that it could comment later with the friends and proper it does not bind the notebook of sports of the periodical, therefore the same already was left on my bed, therefore any doubts on the pursuing soccer was taken off with me, in mine house only remained me the hearing of the senders who transmitted the games. Nor my grandfather spoke to me of 70, Skin, Garrincha, Tosto, Milton Saints, and he taught to hate Ghiggia to me for silencing the Maracan in 50, quite to the contrary never I spoke of soccer with it, much less it taught to see the difference to me of the players of before and today with saudosismo of the time of the ball of choir and the soccer of passes of first and perfect long launchings, in the time where if he moored dog with sausage, as some commentators for there say. In the truth the interest for the soccer came of course, as despertado in any Brazilian, or the majority of them. A will was being born to see games old, to see plays magical, to understand as the kick of Pepe was so powerful, of the chronicles of Seting Walnut and as its words became the soccer hugest, beyond the four lines, although to be of the time where Maradona dominated manchetes as more good player and Brazil made bitter in the line, and if it debated as we were not more hegemony of the soccer after Skin and we did not have a so good election how much of 86, did not have more Tel, and we did not make more trainers and craques equal old with was Dunga of 90.

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