«Player of the Weekend» is a space created by João Ferreira Oliveira, which reflects on the passion of playing with friends
There are words and expressions that we like and others that we hate, and even more complex ones that we either love or hate, depending on the day and the context. Scout, for example. «Person whose activity is to observe sportsmen», says the ok dictionary, «especially in football, to discover new talents or tactics». Someone who sees further, I add and I always believed. A prospector who travels from land to land, field to field, looking not for what light, but for a pass, a reception or a movement that the eyes of ordinary mortals, so small and limited, are incapable of seeing or assimilate.
This is the noble part of the expression. Scout is also «one who observes with the aim of transmitting information to someone». An informer, a snitch, a poacher who catches us behind our backs, inattentive, unarmed, someone who collects secret or privileged data and will gain or gain from it.
Good or bad, the truth is that scouts fascinated me. I imagined them as almost mythological creatures, disguised in the middle of the crowd or hidden behind a lamppost, pretending they were firefighters and stretcher bearers, just so that, on that day, the players wouldn’t get angry or transcend, wouldn’t smudge the paint or paint pictures. that they were never able to reproduce. I believed that, with a little luck, one of them would also end up discovering me, perhaps alerted by an anonymous tip from my father, a neighbor or a friend, announcing to them that in the parish of Vilarinho, Santo Tirso, there was a short two or three kilos heavier, but able to fly like few others.
I don’t know if there are still scouts, there must be, equipped with cameras, computers and special lenses that make it possible to analyze and quantify all movements to the second, thus reducing errors and leaving no room for doubt, the field where true scouts navigated and emerged . The only ones capable of distinguishing with the naked eye between a player who plays at a pace or a “seat”.
I have always been fascinated by the latter. When I left the goal this was the type of player I wanted to become. I watched them, I too, for years on end, from the goal line, in the many tournaments that I played in the vicinity. They were mostly older players. The younger ones ran, skinned themselves, killed themselves, they didn’t need to. Not only were they older, they were smarter. They let the head and not the body pause and control the rhythm and the game, as if they were sitting in an armchair — making us feel even smaller.
I was reminded of this this week, during the game, when I saw a man watching us from the outside of the field. He had a hat and an umbrella, even though it wasn’t raining. It is possible that he was looking for someone or just watching the match. Or that he was a scout. Not football, for sure, but Walking Football, a modality created in 2011, and on which the Portuguese Federation seems to bet. The rules say that it is intended for practitioners over 50 years old; that there are no goalkeepers; that each team is made up of five elements; that the ball cannot rise above the waist; that more than three consecutive rings are not allowed; that the goal is only valid when scored inside the area; and you can’t run.
For a moment, I imagined him approaching some of us, perhaps all of us, such was the slowness with which we played, and enticing us to join a club or even the Portuguese national team, towards the first World Cup, which will take place, this year, in the city Derby English. An invitation that, unfortunately, I would have to refuse, not least because I am not yet old enough.
I have eight years left to adapt to the rules and, who knows, find my dream subject and career.
«Player of the Weekend» is a literary chronicle by João Ferreira Oliveira, who writes every Monday for Maisfutebol. The author opts for the old Orthographic Agreement.
