Success in Rio

Reprinted from Focus Magazine, August 2014

Cicely Berry
Image © Ellie Kurtz

“Where words prevail not, violence prevails.”                                                                                               – The Spanish Tragedy, Thomas Kyd

By the time this appears in print, the dust of the FIFA World Cup will have settled, the winning nation will have held the golden trophy aloft (C’mon, Argentina!), and we all shall have re-emerged -- somewhat blurry-eyed, perhaps -- from our collective Brazilian hangover. What, one wonders, shall remain?

A great deal of questioning, no doubt. A certain Uruguayan will be due a period of intensive self-reflection (“To bite, or not to bite, that is question?”), and a considerable amount of collective introspection will be due for the likes of host nation, Brazil, and, of course, England.

Following England’s abrupt departure from the proceedings, I was more disappointed by the players’ reactions than by their poor performance. Wayne Rooney’s apologetic epilogue was utterly disheartening, particularly, his assessment that the English side is “too nice” to win trophies. Rooney lamented England’s lack of “nastiness”, implying that the team should become more ruthless and “street-wise”. That would be very sad, indeed, and quite out of national character.

Fair play and sportsmanship are hallmarks of British mentality and disposition. When outlining characteristics of his beloved English for his fellow Americans in 1904, Ralph Waldo Emerson mused that the most indefatigable English trait was “pluck”. He enthused: “One thing the English value is pluck. The cabmen have it; the merchants have it; the bishops have it; and the women have it!”

Cicely Berry, legendary Voice Director of the RSC, is by far the pluckiest Englishwoman I know. Since 1997, Cicely has traveled to Brazil to collaborate with “Nós de Morro” - a group of theatre artists based in one of Rio’s toughest slums (favelas). Far from the lush, tropical scenery featured on our tellies during the World Cup, Vidigal is a world apart - set high in the hills that surround the beautiful and opulent city. Controlled by drug cartels, replete with guns, gangs, and violence, it is place into which the police do not venture except in armoured cars. Armed with the works of Shakespeare, diminutive, octogenarian Cicely Berry enters this volatile place and competes confidently with drug lords for the hearts, minds and souls of Vidigal’s favelados (young people living in the slums).

As vividly depicted in the brutal, but truthful film City of God (2002), life is cheap in Vidigal. Watching that film, I shuddered at the thought of gentle, precious Cicely traversing such a place. (I once suggested accompanying her, and she resisted on the grounds that she could not guarantee my safety.)

True to herself, and driven by her uncompromising politics, Cicely’s mission is to empower, liberate and give voice to the voiceless. For Cicely, Shakespeare’s words are apt channels of expression, and by freeing the voice through his full, rich and powerful language, the speaker ultimately develops the courage and freedom to fully express their inner self. Hers is a truly characteristically English ‘plucky’ success in Rio, and one well worth celebrating!

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

…sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines… (Sonnet #18)

June 20th was officially the hottest day of summer. Temperatures reached a record 30C (86F). Of course, this is nothing compared to the scorching weather I was subject to growing up in the American South will temperatures regularly crept easily past the 100 C mark!

My summer thus far has been ruled by the weather and England’s erratic fortunes in the World Cup. The D.E.B. was supporting England of course, but wouldn’t describe himself as a football fan. He “doesn’t mind a bit of footie,” but isn’t obsessed by it, as are so many of his fellow countrymen.

By contrast, I have been bitten quite firmly by “World Cup Fever”, and have gone a bit football mad. I quite literally wept in my beer watching England being pummeled by Germany.

My flirtation with English football began in 2006, during the last World Cup. I was here teaching on a summer short course in Stratford-upon-Avon, and arrived in time to join in the “Come on, England!” mania.

My friend Tracey’s brother, Simon, dared me to “have a flutter” and gamble on the first England match. So, I “screwed my courage to the sticking place” (Macbeth) and sauntered into Ladbroke’s – the infamous, British, high street betting shop.

Apparently, at that time, Ladbroke’s were trying to improve their image and public perception of “the betting shop”, so while I was expecting a rather seedy sort of establishment, it was not actually.

There were of course a quite a few blurry-eyed men wandering listlessly through the premises to be sure, but overall it was not the smoke-filled den of iniquity that I’d imagined.

“How may I ‘elp you, Miss?” The man behind the glass window chirped at me, pleased to see that Ladbroke’s “family-friendly” re-marketing had obviously paid off.

“I’d like to place a bet, please.” I said shyly. “Well, you’re in the right place, then.” The man beamed and smiled at me broadly.

I was offered a number of options to pursue on England’s opening match against Paraguay. The prospect that appealed to me the most was: “Who will score the first English goal?”

Being a novice in all things football, I relied on the only source I had had back in New York: movies. I didn’t know who any of the English footballers were, but I’d just seen Bend it Like Beckham on DVD. It was a fun movie, and he’s cute, so he got my vote.

“David Beckham!” I exclaimed to the man behind the counter. “You’re quite confident.” The man smiled again. “And, why not?” said I. We both nodded as I slipped my £10 note under the glass counter.

No one could have been more shocked than I was when David Beckham actually did scored the first English goal!!

As the ball struck the back of the net, my phone rang. It was Simon, my friend Tracey’s brother: “I do believe you have just won £100. Well done! But, don’t let it go to you’re ‘ead. And promise that you won’t ever bet again!”

He needn’t have worried. I thoroughly enjoyed my “beginner’s luck”, but have since left betting well enough alone. Still, I am proud to inform anyone who will listen that I once won a hundred quid off David Beckham’s boot!

I placed no bets this time around, which was probably a good thing, given England’s World Cup results. But, watching the World Cup has really inspired me to take more interest in the game.

I decided that I should find an English Club side to follow/support. Given my David Beckham connection, supporting Manchester United seemed the obvious choice. But, then everyone supports Man United, and I’d like to be a bit more creative than just following the crowd.

So, I started to approach this in a serious way, by considering the skills and performance of the players on the national side (team), and them looking at their club teams. This approach eventually failed, as Manchester United was again the most represented side.

I then thought about locality. If I chose a team close to where we live, I’d have more of chance of seeing them play live, as opposed to just seeing them on telly/TV. This gave the edge to Aston Villa, as our nearest Premiere League side.

To settle the score, I decided m final criterion would be: which side has the best-looking kit/strip (uniforms). With that, Aston Villa won outright, with their very fetching claret and sky blue home colours!

As an added bonus, Aston Villa is owned by Randolph D. Lerner -- an American entrepreneur from Brooklyn!

Now that that’s settled, it’s nice to know there be more football (and tears?) after the World Cup has finished.