Corinthians is a state of mind. Congratulations on 112 years, my Timon – 01/09/2022

Corinthians is a state of mind. Congratulations on 112 years, my Timon – 01/09/2022
Corinthians is a state of mind. Congratulations on 112 years, my Timon – 01/09/2022

I wanted to start this text by overturning a myth: you are not born a Corinthians fan or a Corinthians fan.

I know this because I wasn’t born and I’m sure my passion is no less legitimate.

More than 50 years ago Simone de Beauvoir wrote her now famous phrase “you are not born a woman, you become a woman”. It took us many decades to begin debugging all the dimensions of thought these words contain.

I ask Simone’s permission to lend her genius and talk about Corinthians.

You are not born a Corinthian; becomes.

And I became.

For the love of another woman who loved Corinthians over all things in this life.

A person I was married to for five memorable years, who taught me about the heavens, the planets, the Earth, countries, musical notes, football.

A woman who taught me to live intensely, to smile widely, to dance inordinately.

With her I went to Pacaembu, Bambonera, Morumbi, Maraca. With her I understood the game a little more passionately and deeply.

Long before his death, Corinthians was already running through my blood. But it was on the day she left, November 4th, exactly one month before the Doctor Socrates she loved so much, that I realized that Corinthians is not a team, it’s a state of mind.

Corinthians is an emotional environment within which we learn to suffer, to believe, to scream, to sing, to hug, to love. A dimension of feeling that doesn’t understand abandonment, that doesn’t shrink from the most painful defeats, that fills a good part of our days.

A poropopo of sensations that are difficult to explain.

It was with her that I understood that it was perfectly possible to miss a team; on a hot January afternoon, around the pool, Roberta muttered the following words to no one specifically while she was having a beer: “I miss my Timon.”

That’s how she talked about Corinthians, with an emphasis on “mine”.

The Timon was hers. She knew it. She was sure of it. Nothing was “her” anymore. She didn’t care about possessions. What she cared about was that team.

One Saturday morning, after hiring a cart to carry a huge shelf that she wanted to donate to a low-income person, Roberta texted me from inside the van: “I can’t die on this trip,” she wrote. “Die? What are you talking about?”, I replied terrified. And she, who was in the passenger seat while the owner of the cart drove: “There’s a Palmeiras sticker the size of the world here on the windshield. If it hits, the sticker will land on my chest. I can’t die with this thing. glued to the chest. If an accident happens, come and take it away from me. Before crying, before anything else”.

That’s not how she died. But she died.

Long before what should be acceptable for someone so brilliant, so happy, so colorful, so funny, so excited about life.

On that day, on that devastating November 4th, Corinthians became my state of mind. Because that day I understood that it had always been hers.

Today, when Timão enters the field, I can feel Roberta close by.

This is how, for 90 minutes twice a week, we meet again.

In this space of love and delivery. In this place where everything is possible, from a historic turn to contact with our dead.

Congratulations, Corinthians. Congratulations, my Timon.

The article is in Portuguese

Tags: Corinthians state mind Congratulations years Timon

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