"The international division of labour consists in that some countries specialise in winning and others in losing". This is the opening concept to the introduction of Open Veins of Latin America, Uruguayan writer Eduardo Galeano's seminal 1970s book which became a sort of socialist bible for generations in that part of the world. Although Galeano was not then referring to football, broadly speaking one can draw a parallel.
As the Copa América enters the quarter-final stage this weekend there are few surprises. Bolivia, in spite of a superlative performance, go home. The US are out. Brazil, even without Kaka, Ronaldinho and other top names, remain. Argentina are favourites. Ecuador go home with a manager blaming "psychological factors" rather than the quality of their football. Colombia leave with dignity. Uruguay - a historical great - and Chile, both nations that have hosted World Cups in the past, play on. Venezuela, as host nation, are still in the game. This makes sense, considering they've been enjoying home advantage.
It's always good for a tournament if the locals remain involved for as long as possible. Already, Venezuelan middle class ladies who don't follow football are telling me with pride that "they won", and some say the general mood reflects the local adage of feeling like "the only Coca-Cola in the desert". The added irony of them having defeated the US has not been lost on the world press either, and from London to Buenos Aires, journalists and bloggers have been highlinting some of the issues. Whereas the security operation surrounding the US squad's during the tournament seemed excessive, on the pitch the country, participating as 'guests', showed a fundamental lack of grasp on some football universals such as the offside rule and the notion of time-wasting.
Linking football to politics is never easy, but hosting a major tournament will always be utilised for driving populist sales and propaganda (interestingly, in Spanish, 'propaganda' is the word used for advertising). Venezuela is among the world's elite as an oil-producing country and is currently presided over by Hugo Chávez, perhaps the most iconic of socialists currently marking a comeback to the left wing tendencies sweeping the continent. The jury's still out on whether this is a revival of the intellectual ideals of the 1970s - and in fact, this is almost irrelevant when it comes to football.
The issues surrounding such events - ticket availability, stadium construction budget, television - are no different in Venezuela than they are anywhere else. Writing from Venezuela, one Sports Blog contributer recently told us: "You can't get tickets to any of the games because the Chavistas have bought them all up for themselves. Can you imagine that in the UK - all the John Major supporters buying up all the Euro 96 tickets to distribute amongst their friends and lackies? Hey, maybe thats what did actually happen ... it would account for the criminally empty stadiums at least."
I asked journalist Ariel Scher from Argentinian newspaper Clarín about this and his reply is something we could always say about football if we chose to look at it that way: "There's a lot to say about the tickets. But the fact is the stadiums are drawing in huge crowds and it has come to be a space of political controversy in this country where politics is a big issue". Personally, although I know it is the case that all over the five-star hotels of the Caribbean nation dodgy men, maybe carrying cash in suitcases, are wheeling and dealing in all sorts of commodities - from young men to petroleum no doubt - I will join the hundreds of thousands round the world consuming the package as marketed.
Because it just might happen that in the wee small hours of an otherwise uneventful day, during what looks set to be a fraught 0-0 draw between, say, Argentina and Paraguay, a defensive midfielder may in an instant hoof the sphere with such elegant precision that it draws an arch you can almost see in the air and lands gracefully in the back of the opponents net. Such moments in the spin of a ball make us sit up with delight, returning hope to the hopeless and faith to the faithless, bringing back memories of our fathers, our childhoods, or simply other such nanoseconds we have experienced. Memories are a way of passing once again through our own hearts.
I don't know that I agree with all of Galeano's politics but, when it comes to football few have expressed the ethos of why the game is a joy to be treasured as delicisouly as he: "I am merely a beggar of good football" he writes in the preamble to In the Sun and in the Shadow, "and when I am offered it, I take it gracefully without caring which club or country has provided it". Amen. And Gracias Señor Mascherano.
