Almost one week ago, we had a scheduled day off from team training. The sky was really overcast and it seemed that it would rain. I looked out of the window and determined that I could probably get an hour of juggling in before the rain hit. So, I quickly changed my clothes and headed to the beach.
Due to the lack of sun and rough waves, there were not that many people on the beach. A large group of surfers were out in the water, and I was happy to see them because these guys are extremely entertaining to watch.
I located a good place in the sand, and pulled my ball out of my bag. (For those of you who do not know, I have a size 1 ball that I use for my juggling. It is easy to pack when I travel, but I find that it is very intriguing to most people. I purchased it on a tip provided to me by a fellow soccer player when I was in the Bahamas a few years ago. He told me that the small ball would help me to better develop my touch. I followed his advice and have been extremely pleased with the results.)
Well, there was a little boy who was playing the sand a little ways down the beach. He was watching me juggle. Eventually, the toddler and his father made their way over to me. The little boy had on a diaper and was timidly heading my way to get my ball. I decided to help him out because it was evident that he was still trying to get his proper walking technique together. I said Oi (hello) and reached over to hand him the ball. The ball was just big enough for him to hold and walk around with. As he is being entertained, his father began speaking with me about soccer, his recent arrival back in town from Denver and his hopes that he and his son would catch a little sun at the beach. After a few more minutes of conversation, the father told his son that they had to let me get back to juggling, and the toddler politely returned the ball to me. It was a nice time had by everyone. The toddler had an opportunity to play with my ball. His father was able to talk with me about soccer, and I received a chance to speak a little English and meet a nice, little boy.
I returned to juggling. About ten minutes into it, I heard some slightly rambunctious conversation behind me so I turned to see two guys making their way towards me. I assumed that they are going to just pass me on the way to the beach. However, I could not continue my juggling because something about these guys did not seem quite right. I couldn’t make out their conversation, but I sized them up and immediately decided that they were European. They were extremely pale and slightly overly excited about the beach on this overcast afternoon. (Now, I see Europeans all the time at the beaches here. Typically, they have on the appropriate beach attire.) What captured my attention about these guys was their choice of attire. Both of these guys seemed to have on regular underwear. One gentleman had on white boxer briefs and the other guy had on a (much bigger, slightly loose in places) gray pair of briefs.
In a place where 92% of the men walk around at the beach in speedos, I know many of you think that there is not much of a difference between regular underwear and speedos. The important difference is in the fabric content and its reaction to water!
As these guys pass me, I am thinking to myself that these guys must have had a few beers and made the executive decision to take a dip in the ocean. What harm would it do? Obviously, they did not consider the consequences of their actions.
I watched these guys tip toe their way to the water. The waves hit, and as I predicted, all of their business was available for the world to see. The guy who had on the white boxer briefs just didn’t stand a chance. It was like he literally had on a piece of saran wrap for a swimsuit. Totally transparent! His friend in the gray briefs fared a little bit better. You know how a t-shirt looks and hangs when it gets soaked? Well, those gray briefs were looking and hanging the same way! After a few more minutes of “catching some waves,” these guys walk in my direction to leave the beach. I had to do everything that I could to maintain a straight face. Once the guys had passed me, a Brazilian gentleman, who was walking along the beach, looked at me, said his commentary about the guys and we both laughed.
At this point, I decided that I would work on another trick or two and then head back to the house because the clouds were moving closer my way. I finished up, and I am preparing to pack up my ball when this little boy comes running down the beach screaming at me.
[A few entries ago, I had planned to politely everyone to this kid. I always see this kid at the beach because he works at his father’s beach stand selling chairs, umbrellas and drinks. Now, this kid is loud and pretty healthy. (As a side note, you do not see that many “healthy” kids in Rio..)
Initially, I made a snap judgment about this kid because I saw him eat a pudding cup and toss the cup on the beach before he jumped into the water. Also, I saw him try to hustle some patrons of his father’s business on some chair rentals. Fortunately, they just ignored his request for extra money.]
Now, about a week earlier he had asked if we could play around with the soccer ball, and I had agreed. For about twenty minutes, I let him try his best moves on me. We juggled the ball and then I needed to go home. He begged me to stay, but I told him that I would play with him another time.
On this afternoon, the kid wanted me to make good on my promise. I told him that I would play with him for 5 (cinco) minutes. There was a couple sitting not too far away from us being entertained by this kid’s antics as I played along with him.
When time was up, I asked him for the ball and he was not trying to pass it back to me. I used all of my nice Portuguese vocabulary to get this boy to comply without having to embarrass him in front of the couple. I guess the boy didn’t care because he decided to tell me in English that it was his ball. Since he wanted to change the language of the conversation, I told him in English that he better give me my ball back. As soon as he went to make a move with the ball, I retrieved “my ball.” The boy decided he was going to follow me off the beach with a fistful of sand in his hand threatening to throw it at me! I told him in Portuguese that I was going to call the police on him. I guess it must have struck a nerve because he tried to say sorry in Portuguese but I had a scowl on my face. It prompted the boy to not be as remorseful and he drew his fist back to throw the sand at me. The last comment I said was that I was going to tell his daddy.
There was an old man who was preparing to have a beach soccer training who just shook his head and told me that the boy was horrible. From that moment forward, I have named him Menino Tyrant. I guess I should’ve listened to my intuition that he was not the nicest kid.
When I decided to the beach that day, I did not plan to have to judge best in show for male behavior on Copacabana Beach. However, sometimes your number gets called for duty. In my case, there were four males and only one, a toddler, exhibited proper behavior. May be the others should take note and follow his lead.
Due to the lack of sun and rough waves, there were not that many people on the beach. A large group of surfers were out in the water, and I was happy to see them because these guys are extremely entertaining to watch.
I located a good place in the sand, and pulled my ball out of my bag. (For those of you who do not know, I have a size 1 ball that I use for my juggling. It is easy to pack when I travel, but I find that it is very intriguing to most people. I purchased it on a tip provided to me by a fellow soccer player when I was in the Bahamas a few years ago. He told me that the small ball would help me to better develop my touch. I followed his advice and have been extremely pleased with the results.)
Well, there was a little boy who was playing the sand a little ways down the beach. He was watching me juggle. Eventually, the toddler and his father made their way over to me. The little boy had on a diaper and was timidly heading my way to get my ball. I decided to help him out because it was evident that he was still trying to get his proper walking technique together. I said Oi (hello) and reached over to hand him the ball. The ball was just big enough for him to hold and walk around with. As he is being entertained, his father began speaking with me about soccer, his recent arrival back in town from Denver and his hopes that he and his son would catch a little sun at the beach. After a few more minutes of conversation, the father told his son that they had to let me get back to juggling, and the toddler politely returned the ball to me. It was a nice time had by everyone. The toddler had an opportunity to play with my ball. His father was able to talk with me about soccer, and I received a chance to speak a little English and meet a nice, little boy.
I returned to juggling. About ten minutes into it, I heard some slightly rambunctious conversation behind me so I turned to see two guys making their way towards me. I assumed that they are going to just pass me on the way to the beach. However, I could not continue my juggling because something about these guys did not seem quite right. I couldn’t make out their conversation, but I sized them up and immediately decided that they were European. They were extremely pale and slightly overly excited about the beach on this overcast afternoon. (Now, I see Europeans all the time at the beaches here. Typically, they have on the appropriate beach attire.) What captured my attention about these guys was their choice of attire. Both of these guys seemed to have on regular underwear. One gentleman had on white boxer briefs and the other guy had on a (much bigger, slightly loose in places) gray pair of briefs.
In a place where 92% of the men walk around at the beach in speedos, I know many of you think that there is not much of a difference between regular underwear and speedos. The important difference is in the fabric content and its reaction to water!
As these guys pass me, I am thinking to myself that these guys must have had a few beers and made the executive decision to take a dip in the ocean. What harm would it do? Obviously, they did not consider the consequences of their actions.
I watched these guys tip toe their way to the water. The waves hit, and as I predicted, all of their business was available for the world to see. The guy who had on the white boxer briefs just didn’t stand a chance. It was like he literally had on a piece of saran wrap for a swimsuit. Totally transparent! His friend in the gray briefs fared a little bit better. You know how a t-shirt looks and hangs when it gets soaked? Well, those gray briefs were looking and hanging the same way! After a few more minutes of “catching some waves,” these guys walk in my direction to leave the beach. I had to do everything that I could to maintain a straight face. Once the guys had passed me, a Brazilian gentleman, who was walking along the beach, looked at me, said his commentary about the guys and we both laughed.
At this point, I decided that I would work on another trick or two and then head back to the house because the clouds were moving closer my way. I finished up, and I am preparing to pack up my ball when this little boy comes running down the beach screaming at me.
[A few entries ago, I had planned to politely everyone to this kid. I always see this kid at the beach because he works at his father’s beach stand selling chairs, umbrellas and drinks. Now, this kid is loud and pretty healthy. (As a side note, you do not see that many “healthy” kids in Rio..)
Initially, I made a snap judgment about this kid because I saw him eat a pudding cup and toss the cup on the beach before he jumped into the water. Also, I saw him try to hustle some patrons of his father’s business on some chair rentals. Fortunately, they just ignored his request for extra money.]
Now, about a week earlier he had asked if we could play around with the soccer ball, and I had agreed. For about twenty minutes, I let him try his best moves on me. We juggled the ball and then I needed to go home. He begged me to stay, but I told him that I would play with him another time.
On this afternoon, the kid wanted me to make good on my promise. I told him that I would play with him for 5 (cinco) minutes. There was a couple sitting not too far away from us being entertained by this kid’s antics as I played along with him.
When time was up, I asked him for the ball and he was not trying to pass it back to me. I used all of my nice Portuguese vocabulary to get this boy to comply without having to embarrass him in front of the couple. I guess the boy didn’t care because he decided to tell me in English that it was his ball. Since he wanted to change the language of the conversation, I told him in English that he better give me my ball back. As soon as he went to make a move with the ball, I retrieved “my ball.” The boy decided he was going to follow me off the beach with a fistful of sand in his hand threatening to throw it at me! I told him in Portuguese that I was going to call the police on him. I guess it must have struck a nerve because he tried to say sorry in Portuguese but I had a scowl on my face. It prompted the boy to not be as remorseful and he drew his fist back to throw the sand at me. The last comment I said was that I was going to tell his daddy.
There was an old man who was preparing to have a beach soccer training who just shook his head and told me that the boy was horrible. From that moment forward, I have named him Menino Tyrant. I guess I should’ve listened to my intuition that he was not the nicest kid.
When I decided to the beach that day, I did not plan to have to judge best in show for male behavior on Copacabana Beach. However, sometimes your number gets called for duty. In my case, there were four males and only one, a toddler, exhibited proper behavior. May be the others should take note and follow his lead.
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