The Bet of FIFA World Cup 2002 by EvertonCable

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Soccer is extremely popular here in Brazil, and we have a lot of different championships throughout the year. Fans always gather at their homes, bars or stadiums to cheer for their favorite teams and these fans are capable of doing real crazy things during games. I’ve always felt uncomfortable because I must be the only boy in the whole city who didn't like soccer. I tried to give the sport a chance, but it wasn't for me. My father, on the other hand, was very fond of soccer. He watched the games whenever he could, regardless of who was playing.

My friend Ricardo (RicardoBarber from this site) comes from a family of barbers. They didn't work on Sundays, so my dad used to go to their home/barbershop to watch the game there. My father and Ricardo's father (Mr. Mateus) were good friends, really close.

I remember once in 2002 my father and Mr. Mateus were watching a game at the barber shop. Ricardo and I weren't paying attention, playing with some of his toys. Occasionally, we would hear our dads shouting in celebration when a team scored a goal or swearing for any reason. When the match was over, they went to the kitchen for a beer.

Even though our dads having a good friendship, they also could be kind of rivals (friendly and healthy although). It wasn't a rare occasion they watched cheering for different teams and spent the entire match teasing each other. When Ricardo and I went to the kitchen that day, our dads were discussing a match that would happen next weekend. I don't remember who was playing, but it I remember my father was fan of one of the teams and Mr. Mateus cheered for the other one.

I don't know how it happened, maybe it was the beer talking, but they ended up coming with a bet. The one whose team lost the game would have to cut their hair like Ronaldo wore in that year's World Cup semi-final and would have to keep the cut for a whole week. The winner would have the pleasure of doing the cut. If they had a tie, both men would get the cut, as suggested by Mr. David (Ricardo's grandfather and Mr. Mateus' father).

I don't know if you remember or if you ever saw the last games of that cup, but that cut was just horrendous. From the front to about halfway to the crown, the hair was buzzed to a #1 or #2 and everything else was shaved down to the skin. And even so, many guys here got the cut immediately after the final, in celebration of the fifth championship (most of them shaved he whole head after two or three days after). That was the cut the loser was getting.

My dad had been growing his hair from a #2 for two months. Mr. Matthew's hair was longer than on the top and slicked back, but a few shorter on sides and back. Whoever lost the bet would lose a fair amount of hair.

Through a long week, whenever our dads saw each other, Ricardo and I saw them teasing each other. They would run their hands over each other's heads imitating the sound of the clippers and try to visualize the other with that cut. My father even suggested that the loser's hair could be glued back on the head at the end of the sentence. And then it was Sunday.

We were all at the barbershop: my father, Mr. Mateus, Ricardo, I and Mr. David. I wasn't really interested in the match. I just wanted to see who would lose their hair and I hoped it wasn't my father. Ricardo must have been thinking the same thing.

The first goal was from Mr. Mateus' team. He shouted excitedly and relieved, grabbed a comb from his pocket, and started running it through my dad's hair. "Do you want me to cut it now and get it over with?" My dad just said, "Just wait, you clown" and we continued watching.

In the second half, my father's team got to tie, and it made Mr. Mateus a little apprehensive. The game was close to the end, still in a tie. That's when my dad's team scored and got the win. My father gave a loud, victorious shout and turned laughing to Mr. Mateus. "So what did you say before? If I wanted to cut? You were talking about your hair, right?" Mr. Mateus didn't say anything, just walked to the chair, muttering to himself about talking too much. He was clearly regretful and didn't want to cut his hair, but he was too stubborn and too proud to admit anything or take it back.

With Mr. David's help, my dad turned on the clippers and buzzed the top of Mr. Mateus’ head to a #2. He applied more pressure than necessary, which made Mr. Mateus squirm. I suspect it was on purpose, just so he could say, "Still, Mateus," like the barber used to do to children who wouldn't sit still in the chair. "Are you saving this hair to glue back on your head?" my dad asked, laughing.

Done with the clippers, Mr. David used a razor to mark a half ring halfway from Mr. Mateus’ hairline to his crown. Then, my father shaved every hair behind the mark with a #0, leaving the small area with hair in the front. To finish, Mr. David soaped Mr. Mateus' head and used a razor to shave his head. "I look so stupid" Mr. Matthew said looking at himself in the mirror. He groaned in frustration when my dad reminded him that he had to keep the look until the next Sunday. Mr. David said "Son, I love you with all my heart. But you are forbidden to get in my barbershop with that hair. I don't want you to scare away my customers". Mr. Mateus said "You next, boys" and that we would have the same cut. We ran away to Ricardo’s bedroom, locking the door and Mr. Mateus laughed, saying it was just a joke.

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