And I feel that irreparable melancholy we all feel after making love and at the end of the match.
(244)

(As a woman, I feel that I have to preface this review with proof that I am a “real fan.”
It doesn’t matter. I switched off comments from non-“friends” because of trolls on another review.
However, I love talking football, so I will indulge myself.)

I have not been a rest-of-the-world football fan long. It has always been in the background of my life, but I never cared about it.
The white noise became an orchestra about 10 years ago, around the time Mauricio Pochettino was the manager of Tottenham Hotspur. I needed to be distracted, and there the Spurs were to save me.
I will always cheer “COYS” with my whole heart.

How is soccer like God? Each inspires devotion among believers and distrust among intellectuals.
(40)

As the world falls apart, the orchestra has thundered into a chorus of Zadok the Priest. I am obsessed. I love it. I can’t get enough.

If there is a game playing in Spain, Argentina, Italy, Mexico, or Germany, I’ll find it, and I’ll watch it without picking a side.

I can explain (and scream at the refs) the offside rule. I can even explain the pre-1925 offside rule and how the 1925 amendment revolutionized the game. You’d rather talk about Hungarian Jews and how we owe modern game play to them? I can do that, too.

So, when I tell you I loved this book, I’m not offhandedly saying it. I loved this book.

Sometimes women take part too and score their own goals, though in general the macho tradition keeps them exiled from these fiestas of communication.
(94)

Galeano captured everything I love about football, futbol, calcio, soccer, the beautiful game.
He also captured everything I hate and fear about the sport: the racism, the sexism (he only talks about it a little bit), the homophobia, the corruption.
He does not, however, mention the anti-Semitism and even partakes of it himself. This is a major flaw of the book, unfortunately. As an example of anti-Semitism, the Spurs are jeered with anti-Semitic chants; I was even taunted that way in a New York bar (and it wasn’t the word that Spurs fans coopted then realized is awful and stopped using — deep sigh).

In his introduction, Rory Smith wrote that the book is prescient. Galeano fears for the game now that the corporations and mind-boggling Everests of money are involved.
And you see it. Manchester City are expected to win the Premier League. Luton Town (a team owed by its fans, like Swansea City) is expected to be relegated to the Championship again.
It’s all just business. Sure, you learn angles and speeds, but the January transfer window feels like sitting in Contracts class.
That makes me sad.

In the frigid soccer of today’s world, which detests defeat and forbids all fun, that man [Maradona] was one of the few who proved that fantasy too can be effective.
(236)

Galeano blends world history and sport history with a dry wit and biting tone. I think sport is not credited enough as a mirror of a country’s social issues and priorities, and I appreciate when writers examine this area of sociology.
He becomes more acerbic as the book progresses.

It’s not on any map but it’s there. It’s invisible, but there it is. A barrier that makes the memory of the Berlin Wall look ridiculous: raised to separate those who have from those who need, it divides the globe into north and south, and draws borders within each country and within each city. When the south of the world commits the affront of scaling the walls and venturing where it shouldn’t, the north reminds it, with truncheons, of its proper place. And the same thing happens to those who attempt to leave the zones of the damned in each country and each city.
Soccer, the mirror of everything, reflects this reality.
(201)

(COME ON YOU SPURS!)

A fun and somewhat informative series of vignettes about events and personalities in the history of the world's greatest game, written by a devoted fan who also happens to be a successful writer and political commentator from one of many world hotbeds of soccer, Uruguay. His leftist ideals are frequently incorporated into his analysis (okay by me), but even the most conservative soccer fan should enjoy the stories of great games and players. This updated version contains observations of events up to and including the 2010 World Cup.

Elegant and beautiful like the game it dawns over.

Eduardo Galeano cuenta, através pinceladas a verso libre y de una visión apasionada del fútbol, la historia del siglo XX. Ejemplifica, mediante uno de los marcos culturales del mundo, las maravillas y decadencias de la sociedad del espectáculo.

Un libro magnífico.

DNF. Not all what I was hoping for. It is a history but it's told in small vignettes that read more like poetry. Some were nice but it lacked the connective thread I needed and any discussion of tactics.

The beautiful game
History in vignettes
Soccer in light and darkness

I don't typically read non fiction, but as a huge fan of the game of soccer, I decided to take a break from my usual fair to read this recommendation from one of my friends. It's a beautifully written book that layouts the history of the game and some of the great early players in short anecdotes. Even in translation to English, you can see how poetic Mr. Galeano is about the game. I love learning about the history of the game and it was cool to read about the early pioneers, formative games, and historical context. I appreciate that the book doesn't shy away from the ugliness of the game as well, soccer as a propaganda tool for fascists and dictators, rampant racism, and corruption. It truly is a story of Sun and Shadow. Highly recommend if you're a fan of the game.

Gosto de futebol. Muito. Já gostei mais, talvez. Já não tenho em mente o calendário dos jogos, as estatísticas e os resutados. Continuo a ir ao estádio a cada duas semanas. Adoro o futebol amador. Chorei apenas uma vez por causa do futebol. Foi de felicidiade, quando o Amarante Futebol Clube ganhou a uma equipa da primeira divisão na taça de Portugal. Obrigado Galeano, por nos lembrares do que importa nesta cada vez mais tóxica indústria da bola.

This non-fiction book that is ostensibly about soccer is actually about so much more: history, morality, capitalism. At the same time, Galeano's writing seem to have shown me the new possibilities of writing; so pure yet full of passion, his metaphors and similes dead on point. The writing itself is truly alive.

Loved this book so much. My love for this sport has also infinitely increased; my respect for players as well.

Reading it, I've transitioned between seriousness and laughter so many times, plus a few moment of teary eyes.

With this one book, Galeano has convinced me that I should read (or rather I should buy too) all of his books that have been translated into English.

if at any point you were reading the memory of fire trilogy and said "i wish this was about soccer" then i have got a book for you. starts a little sluggish and gets gassed by the end, kind of like me playing soccer. the difference between this book and me playing soccer is that most of it is a bighearted, effusive, grumpy collage of moments in soccer history. basically just the same thing as the memory of fire trilogy but about soccer instead of the whole entire shambolic parade of the history western hemisphere. this was weirdly a rejuvenating read. it made me scribble stuff down in a notebook and google things and i was sad when it was over.