Life As a Sports Usher: Episode 6 - Brazil vs. Mexico
| 21
|
by Rawbeezeitz
I’m going to go slightly out of chronological order for this part of the series. I worked at the Boston College/NC State game last weekend, was in the middle of writing about it, then all hell broke loose when the Patriots were caught committing the heinous act of video espionage. Sarcastically, I considered quitting my job as an usher when that story broke. But anyway, for my two or three loyal readers out there, expect my NC State episode to come soon. This episode is all about…Brazil vs. Mexico.
Let me try to set the scene for you. All us ushers are at one of the gates at Gillette Stadium. The supervisors are briefing us about taking tickets. But we can barely hear them. Because beyond the Stadium walls is this constant symphony of salsa music, air horns, whistles, and Portuguese yelling/singing.
We walk up to the gate, and there’s a sea of yellow clad Brazilian fans, with a few Mexican fans intermixed. They’re yelling, jumping, singing, dancing, playing soccer, and there are thousands of them. And this is 2 and a half hours before the game starts.
None of us know what to expect. This is a different kind of crowd for all of us. Frankly, I was nervously excited. I love soccer. I’ve been to 2 EPL games in London, but I’ve never seen an international match. And I’ve certainly never seen the #1 team in the world (Brazil) play.
But logistically, this game was a massive challenge for us. We were understaffed (difficult to get people to work a Wednesday night, 99% of TeamOps employees have other jobs). We had about 250 people, for an anticipated crowd of 65,000+. There were the potential language problems. Almost all of the fans would be making their first visit to Gillette Stadium so they‘d all be lost. We didn’t have enough people for pat downs at the gates. So it’d be pretty easy to sneak in a weapon. We just checked bags and turned everyone loose inside.
I remember driving down to Foxborough for the game, and once I hit the town line, I entered a new world. There were Brazilian and Mexican flags everywhere. There were signs in Portuguese, there were people yelling at each other from their cars. It was madness. But this isn’t madness…THIS, IS, SOCCER!!!
Anyway, back to the gates, right before the game. The first thing I had noticed was the masses of people there. For a Patriots game, there are maybe 100 people at the gates right when they open. People are tailgating and stuff and take their time coming in. There were maybe 2,000 to 3,000 people already packed in front of the gate for this game.
The second thing I noticed were how many smoking hot Brazilian women there were. These women are on a level of beautiful that is purely divine. And they were really friendly, too. You know when you have to deal with an American girl who knows that she’s a 10, and knows she owns you, and acts like she‘s pissed off all the time. Well these girls were really nice and seemed really happy. They would be a constant entertainment for me for the remainder of the evening. Maybe I’m being a tad misogynistic or chauvinistic, but when a girl dresses up in skin tight pants, and a two inch wide tank top that has “Brasil” stretched across her chest, I think staring is acceptable, if not expected.
Seeing these hotties made me question something: If these are the kind of girls they produce in Brazil, why the hell are all the men spending so much goddamned time playing and watching soccer? You guys can’t think of anything better to do with your free time?
We opened up the gates and people began streaming through. The language problem wasn’t that bad. The only person I had difficulty understanding was actually an Englishman. He said something like “My friend has my ticket on the nine five, can I get in though?” I had no clue what he was referring to until I finally realized he meant I-95.
Scanning tickets went along with few glitches. The usual stuff, tickets refusing to scan, people at the wrong gate, and so on. But I’ve never had so many men trying to dance with me. Come to think of it, I’ve never had any man try to dance with me until last night. These guys would dance their way through the line, come up to me, I’d scan their ticket and they’d say something like “Brasil djonill!!!” and start dancing next to me. It was strange, but funny.
Finally, I got a break, ate a crappy hamburger, and was redeployed as an usher. I missed the entire first half, and the score was 1-1 when I got stationed at section 124 behind the goal Brazil was attacking.
The place was a madhouse. No rules applied. Normally, as an usher, our job is to keep people from standing in the aisles, going where they shouldn’t go, and from sitting in the wrong section. But this stuff just wasn’t happening tonight. There was me and this other guy at this one section, and there were a few dozen people standing where they shouldn’t be. We were told before the match that we should let a lot of small things go because we were understaffed and so long as people were just having fun, it wasn’t a big deal.
Our job description for this game was to make sure nobody was dying, be a set of eyes to report any fighting (the fans were undivided, so Brazilian and Mexican fans were side by side), help people if they were lost, and ensure that the smoking hot Brazilian hotties were sufficiently leered at.
The game was amazing. I had to keep telling myself “This is the best team in the world out there. There’s Ronaldhino, there’s Kaka, and I’m getting paid to watch them.”
At the 78h minute, I told my fellow usher: “Brazil is going to score soon, the entire game is being played in this half.” Two minutes later, Kaka slammed home a goal and the Stadium shook. A few minutes later, Brazil added the clincher and won 3-1.
We cleared out the Stadium, waiting for fans to take their pictures of themselves with the empty field in the background. Getting out of there was slow. Traffic was at a standstill at the exits. The parking lot was filled with dancing and singing fans, some playing soccer on the asphalt, and a set of tremendously loud speakers blasting Brazilian music.
I got out of the parking lot 30 minutes later. On Route 1, there were a lot of hitchhikers on the side of the road. I was paying too much attention to navigating traffic and avoiding pedestrians to notice a few of them in time. There was a group of 4 beautiful girls, absolutely perfect (from what I could see at night going 40 MPH). But by the time I noticed how hot they were, it was too late for me to slow down and pick them up. Oh well. Maybe the next time Brazil plays in Foxborough, I’ll keep an eye out for these kinds of fans. I’ll also brush up on my Portuguese.
Ei menina sexy, quer uma carona?
