Ademir, the football ant
Paulo Rodrigues | 1956

Others could have earned as much or almost as much as Ademir. But they stayed in the almost, melancholy. And why? Simple: they used a lot of feet and very little head. By contract, they had to submit to the whims of the club, and they had no basis for making demands, charging the price they deserved.

— The secret of your fortune, Ademir?

Ademir: I've always owned "my chin, that is, my nose".

— Explain, please.

Ademir: I walked for years with the "pass" in my pocket. If I was offered less than I wanted, nothing was done. To my successors, I give the chip: after profiting tremendously from having the "pass" at hand, I ended up selling it to Vasco. And do you know how much? I mean: half a million cruzeiros. Only.



Football ant, yes, sir. A player par excellence, he did not leave prudence aside. No drinks, no nights out. Methodical life. Ademir didn't find it funny to play with his health. After a game, unlike most, he doesn't go on a spree. He would run home, lie down for an hour, then have dinner. A spin, for digestion, and that's it. Football ant, yes, sir. As long as he didn't accumulate profits, as long as his bank account didn't become enviable, he was restrained. He finally knew how to save it for the winter of his career. Ademir, in parenthesis, admits that 1956 is his last year of football.

— Do you think you should have shelved the boots by now? — we asked.

Ademir: And the courage to suddenly give up football? I owe everything I have to football, a few properties and something else: the porcelain factory, which sooner or later will be inaugurated. For society, I gave one million cruzeiros.

Ademir's advice.

Ademir: Woe to the player who does not give the same importance to training as the game; woe to the player who, before the game, before sweating, before doing how to deserve the prize, wants to know how much he will receive for the victory; woe to the player who disguises himself, and thinks he can beg for the written and spoken chronicle; woe to the player who wastes energy outside of football, and goes to training or to the game without energy; woe to the player who, after a match, runs to "dancing" or something similar; woe to the player who doesn't respect anything and anyone; woe to the player who lets the club put and dispose of his "pass".

Ademir's team.

Ademir: I could calmly form three nice scratches. I happen to be asked for one, nothing but one. I saw Batatais, Barbosa and Castilho. And I came to the following conclusion that Barbosa was, despite the “tough dispute”, the most complete. Augusto, Nilton Santos or Djalma Santos? Djalma Santos who marks like Augusto did, seems to me the most perfect of the three. I see Domingos Da Guia, only Domingos Da Guia. Bauer, therefore, as a right half-back. Danilo, the centre-half. Jayme de Almeida, the left half-back. You can discuss the occupant of the right wing. Tessourinha, Julinho. But I saw well Pedro Amorim, I played with him, and for him I give my vote. Inside right, absolute, Zizinho. Centre-forward, Heleno de Freitas, Leônidas and Pirilo. I admired all three: choosing one, I choose Heleno. Inside left: Tim, Jair and Didi. Notable. But Jajá, with that zigzag shot and wide passes, is my favorite for the position. On the left, Carreiro, Vevé and Chico. Three players with characteristics entirely different. I take Vevé's two years of fabulous football.

Barbosa — D. Santos, Domingos — Bauer, Danilo, Jayme — P. Amorim, Zizinho, Heleno, Jair, Vevé.

Ademir's relics.

Ademir: In my opinion, not only objects are part of my relics. But the memories, too. Like the tears I shed on my way back from Santiago de Chile, when Brazil was the undefeated champion of the 1st Pan American Football Championship. The memory of the crowd was the greatest prize I could aspire to. The Super-Championship, for Fluminense, when I took, with Pedro Amorim, Careca and others, the champagne bath in 1946. The title of carioca champion for Vasco, in 1952. The five "Oscars" of "Jornal dos Sports", as top scorer three times, as Pan American champion and as the most efficient player. The top scorer trophy of the 1950 World Cup.

Ademir, the love and the liras.

Ademir: I grew up surrounded by the love of my mother, father and brothers. I lost my mother, I gained Celeste. And Celeste gave me Cláudia Fernanda. Single, I would hardly have stayed, I would hardly have run after the liras offered me from Italy. Maybe it was for two million cruzeiros. But I don't regret staying, because the porcelain factory is right there to double my capital and make Cláudia Fernanda a happy girl.

Ademir and the 1950 World Cup.

Ademir: Until I'm old, I'll answer questions about Brazil's performance in the 1950 World Cup. Well, I'll leave it written: we didn't do anything shameful. We lost the championship by bad luck. Only. I'll say more: the game that stole the Cup from us, against Uruguay, made it clear that it's no use wanting to win with a knife. Nothing worse, nothing more dangerous than entering the field as if obliged to win. In a less tense, less passionate atmosphere, we would have been world champions. We beat the same Uruguayans, with relative ease, two years later, in Chile. They will say: Ademir does not recognize the victory of the Uruguayans, in 50. What is the matter? It's on the scoresheet: Brazil 1 x Uruguay 2. Only, the Uruguayans played "appealing". To the trunks and ravines and everything working out for them. How many times have I been held by the shorts, by the shirt, by the arms. Me and the others. But we lose because we accept such "appeals" when we should have "appealed". In a world contest, it's no shame to be a man.