By Golias Lisboa

When I was little, my father wanted me to be a journalist. It's not that it was done this only because of him, but there was a push. Now, sports journalist is his total merit. He hoped that I could play for some team from the interior, in Santa Barbaridade, it was called "February 30". The era was so bad that I arrived and called my interest in boules. However, during a youthful dictatorship, I returned to football. But the weather is still bad.

For a notion of the representing the club in my father's life, he was the partner #1, as well as counselor, stadium narrator and gandula. In some cases, he was play on the left lateral, without letting the gandula, narrate and continue to pay the privilege of the privilege of being on the field (but never self-complimented during the narration). It was crazy.

In addition, the club itself: the mascot was a green ox, the president was the owner of the butcher's shop, the players were 50% cattle ranchers, 25% maize farmers and 25% cattle manure used in farming. corn. Besides the father, of course. He lived in the club. He sold at the entrance to the city, writing about the city over time and even recorded the club's anthem, which was something like this:

Now who gives the ball is the 30 of February,
When the imposing February 30 appears,
Once February 30, always February 30,
Let's sing from the heart, the champion of the champions!

The rival of the 30 of February was the Jacarense, of New Jacare. It is not a question of mascot of this time was reptile in question; a cheerleader of the green ox shouted, "Call on you, alligator!" No matter what you are looking for, do not worry about bathing in the flooded holes of the stadium. The classic, Jacaré, old 30 of Jacarense, moved like two cities, that together, they added 372 inhabitants. A crowd of nobodies.

Anyway, what's all this interesting about? Actually almost nothing. There is only one: my father left the "February 30" team. Incredible, is not it? It's more recent, right after I graduate. It was not because of defeats and so little because of work overload (it became a forward and a flagship in a match). It was because I was there covering the games. He noticed my involvement and, thinking that he would be moved, disgusted at everything. He left the scene. Today he plays ball, defending the veterans of the New Old Manure. No matter what I will do, my dad will not ever change. Maybe when it arrives February 30.

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