I was about 12 years old when I heard this one:
For those who don’t know, in the 1950s, Brazil was governed by Getúlio Dornelles Vargas, the gaucho caudillo, and Argentina by Juan Domingo Perón, the caudillo of the pampas. In both countries, football was a very serious matter. The traditional rivalry between the neighboring countries, usually limited to folklore, occasionally spilled over into “fisticuffs.”
There were many incidents both on and off the field, in Buenos Aires and in Rio de Janeiro. The governments decided to ban matches between clubs or national teams.
This lasted for two years, until the press intervened. With the sponsorship of both caudillos, two “friendly” matches were arranged — meaning they didn’t count for anything, no championships, no cups, absolutely nothing.
The first match would be in Rio, and the second in Buenos Aires.
Everything was preceded by massive propaganda promoting friendship, fraternity, etc., with our neighbors and “Hermanos.”
The first match ended as expected: a draw, since it was a friendly meant to renew ties. The Brazilian journalists’ association had organized a dinner for the Brazilian and Argentine journalists at the then-famous Churrascaria Gaúcha on Rua das Laranjeiras, which, although now a bit run-down, is still there today (it was frequented by Getúlio Vargas).
At the end of the dinner, an Argentine journalist stood on a chair, tapped a utensil on a bottle, silenced the room, and gave a brief speech of thanks to the Brazilians. He praised the necessary peaceful and civilized coexistence between Latin American brothers. He was applauded by everyone, and the Brazilian part of the event ended successfully.
The following week, the match was in Buenos Aires, and everything went as planned. Another draw, no violence either on or off the field, with Brazilians and Argentinians treating each other as “Hermanos” just as the press had promoted and indoctrinated. (Rumor has it that they began calling each other “brothers” instead of “friends” because you can’t choose your relatives.)
After the game, all the Brazilian journalists were invited to dinner at one of Buenos Aires’ finest restaurants, as a way to return the favor for the dinner in Rio.
A well-prepared feijoada was served, with caipirinhas and everything.
At the end, when no one volunteered to give a speech of thanks, as the Argentine journalist had done in Rio, the Brazilians present nominated João Saldanha, especially because he spoke “porteño” (the Argentine accent) or at least “gaucho” (from the southern Brazilian region).
João Saldanha, born in Rio Grande do Sul but with a Carioca soul, was a sports columnist for the Rio de Janeiro newspaper O Globo. He was also a passionate fan of Botafogo, a member of the Brazilian Communist Party, and quite famous (he even became the coach of Brazil’s national team in 1970, though he was replaced by Zagallo, allegedly because he refused to field the center forward Dario, “Dadá,” as suggested by then-President General Emilio Garrastazu Médici).
But back to 1954, in Buenos Aires, at the end of the feijoada at the fancy restaurant, Saldanha was pushed onto the chair-stage and had to improvise:
— Friends, we are very grateful for the warm welcome and friendliness, but I want to suggest that we put an end to these retaliatory lunches or dinners. From now on, let’s serve churrasco in Buenos Aires and feijoada in Rio de Janeiro. Otherwise, we’ll end up eating the worst churrascos and the worst feijoadas possible.
He was supported by everyone and was applauded for a long time, gaining a reputation as a great sage from then on.
PS: Whenever I travel and someone suggests going to a non-local restaurant, I remember this lesson from the great Saldanha. After all, going to New York and helping to fill the Brazilian restaurants on 47th Street and surrounding areas, or an American coming here and never leaving McDonald's or fried chicken joints, is a serious case of having nothing better to do.
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