Fintar : between the colonial bond and a postcolonial double-bind

. This article addresses Fernando Vendrell’s Fintar o destino [ Dribbling Fate ] (1998) by considering the appropriation of sports by the Portuguese Estado Novo ’s colonialist ideology and policies (inspired by Gilberto Freyre’s lusotropicalist theories). In parallel, it highlights the role that football in particular plays in underwriting and simultaneously undermining affective, cultural, and economic bonds and binds between Cape Verde and Portugal, pre- and post-independence. The connections between former colony and metropolis, as viewed through the lens of the increasingly globalized and commercialized world of football, go beyond (post)colonial nostalgia, as sport may be seen — the emergence of neo-colonial patterns notwithstanding — to provide a platform for a reimagining of individual and collective hopes and challenges.

The effect produced by the lines being drawn at the beginning of the film is that of highlighting football as more than a mere metaphor for social phenomena, or just a manifestation of deeper social trends and tensions; in fact, as Roberto DaMatta points out: Sport is part of society just as society is part of sport so it is impossible to understand one activity (or a set of activities) without reference to the totality within which it exists. Sport and society are as two sides of a coin and not as the roof is to the foundations of a house. 1 The drawn lines of the football field inscribe and enclose metaphorically a number of wider aspects of society; in this particular case, the aspects of a postcolonial society which are enacted on screen most visiblyalbeit far from exclusively -through Mané's unconditional support for the club of the former metropolis which he had a chance to join as a young man.
The centrality of football to the narrative is undeniable, allowing for the classification of Fintar o Destino as a sports film, however elusive that category may ultimately prove to be, with 'a sport, a sporting occasion, or an athlete as the central focus'. 2 The human element in the opening scenes foreshadows the character-driven narrative, centred around Mané, that the film -which could be classified under the subgenre of 'fan film' 3will unfold.
As Fernando Arenas points out, the film addresses the question of 'affect', a 'question that informs postcolonial relations while being fraught with contradiction and ambiguity ', 4 while avoidingand in many ways, forewarning againstthe pitfalls of lusotropicalist nostalgia. While documenting in Mozambique a situation close to that described by filmmaker Fernando Vendrell in Cape Verde and which was the inspiration for the the film, 5 Nuno Domingos speaks of a 'Portuguese football narrative' which is still 'a major element in the local urban popular culture' in former Portuguese colonies. 6 The reproduced colonial 'bonds' 7 would seem to confirm Eric Hobsbawm's statement that '[t]he imagined community of millions seems more real as a team of eleven named people. The individual, even the one who only cheers, becomes a symbol of his nation himself'. 8 The postcolonial dimension of affect towards football clubs from the ex-metropolis places the football supporter as 'symbol' not of his/her nation but rather of an imagined community of Benfiquistas, Sportinguistas, populations, contributing to impose a political recognition'. 14 On the one hand, football's early professionalization and popular, working class practice clashes with the 'amateur and elitist ethos' of other sports in colonial history. 15 There is little doubt that much can be gained from addressing the historical, cultural and socio-political aspects of sports in the African continent. 16 Football's multifaceted and polarized dissemination can shine light on the workings of informal colonial structures, as '[t]he game was transmitted in Africa through the action of various agents with different interests'. 17 As Richard Giulianotti and Roland Robertson succinctly put it, unlike sports such as cricket and rugby, football spread through 'trading ecumene', industry and business, in informal ways. 18 The local appropriation of football in the colonies spawned ambiguous and multi-layered relations, or, as Domingos puts it 'occasionally contradictory': on the one hand, sporting practices may indeed have 'represented an attempt to adhere to the colonizer's values', with football allowing for 'social mobility, a way of integration in the colonial society or even a ticket to travel to the metropolitan society'; on the other hand, 'the game also became an arena of resistance to the colonial power'. 19 Consequently, Domingos maintains that football's expansion in Africa was manifold and that it escaped the control of colonial organizations with the creation of 'native' clubs, associations and structures, leading to a 'creolization' of football, often with a 'pan-African dimension'. 20 Not that colonial authorities did not take measures to reign it in and reinstate control. 21 In the Portuguese colonies, however, the player's path to professionalism was restricted to and limited by a distinctively colonial framework: the path was delineated according to interests and links between metropolitan clubs and affiliated or subordinated local clubs; additionally, it was the status of the 'assimilado' attributed to sufficiently culturally Europeanized Africans that allowed these players to play for the Portuguese national team and clubs. 22 The metropolitan clubs' 'embaixadas patrióticas' 23  an improvement on the previous Colonial Act, it was clearly insufficient and it amounted, in some instances, to no more than a cosmetic discursive operation.
When it comes to sports, and football in particular, the contrast between, on the one hand, the official discourse and discourse of officials 31 and, on the other, the effectively segregated organization and practice of the sport could hardly be more striking, as Domingos has demonstrated in the case of Mozambique. 32 In effect, besides the clear propagandistic interests, the post-WWII surge in the growth and development of the colonies' economies will lead to closer ties between the metropolis and the 'overseas provinces', conveniently remaned in the context of the pressure for decolonization and self-determination. Combined with the international success of players hailing from the colonies both at club level and at international level in the Portuguese national team, there is a strengthening of ties between metropolitan and often subsidiaryoverseas teams via visits, exchanges and tournaments (including the unmistakenly propagandistically events of the Salazar Cup). 33 The Estado Novo drew on the success of players from the colonies representing Portuguese clubs to score ideological points but this should not distract from the fact that it is hard to overestimate the impact of players Freyre's groundbreaking work on football as a relevant aspect of popular culture, linked in his analysis to national identity, and his notion of 'foot-ball [sic] mulato', is inseparable from what came to be known as 'racial democracy', as Freyre framed the Afro-Brazilian presence as a 'positive mark in Brazil's historical process' 34 and the resulting hybridization as a fundamental aspect of 'brasilidade', the evolution of which could be traced through football. 35 The fact that segregationist and discriminatory practices in football were still very much in play during the first half of the twentieth century 36 and that, as late as 1954, Brazilian players of  and Américo, even after being apart for decades. The shots of Américo and Mané side by side, the medium long shot when they first embrace and the long shot as they walk to their farewell, show that Américo and Mané are, structurally speaking, twin characters. In Mané's narrative, it is as if Américo has taken his place: 'Américo and I had the fibre of champions. He didn't want to go but in the end it was I who stayed. I stood on the harbour, my eyes set on that ship...'.
The parallel with Eusébio (and chronologically, very closely) is as evident as it is contrasting: Américo was signed by Benfica but failed to shine, had a lacklustre career, and now leads an isolated existence in a shanty town in Seixal.
Eusébio, unlike Américo and Mané has succeeded in 'dribbling fate'albeit at the cost of becoming an 'instrumental signifier' and 'national property'. It is to Américo, the luckless and all but forgotten immigrant in Lisbon, that Mané can and must be compared; not to the revered Eusébio. Mané has for the first time a realistic view of a football career, as a variation on the immigration experience. 60 The role of immigration is enhanced by the history behind Eusébio's statue: it was commissioned by a Portuguese immigrant in the United States (curiously, the focus of attraction for Mané's prospect and protégé Kalu), a Benfica football fan who wanted to pay homage to the great 'Portuguese' footballing legend.

Benfica: E pluribus unum, still? Reminiscences, remnants, and beyond
Throughout the first part of the film, Mané's regret at not having followed his 'brother' Américo's offer from the Lisbon club to become a professional footballer is the reason behind his disgruntled attitude towards his family (he will acuse his wife, Lucy, then pregnant with his first child, of having ruined everything, as the reason why he did not leave in the first place). Mané was not a present father, as will become clear when he has a frank face to face with his son, and his dissatisfaction prevents him from acting as a caring husband and grandfather both in S. Vicente, when he is unpleasant towards his grandson, and in Lisbon, where his arm must be twisted before he agrees to go to his grandson's birthday party. A key moment takes place after Mané is humiliated when he is tricked into paying for a ticket that a ticket tout will not deliver on time and misses the Taça de Portugal final. Mané is forced to resort to watching the game in the street, through TV sets in a shop window. The music sound track, evocative of the score of both the opening shots of the film and of when Mané steps out onto the Estádio da Luz pitch, combined with Mané's solemn posture, points to a moment of epiphany.
Mané's highly-stylised moment of introspection also helps draw out the ritualistic aspect of the first scenes of the film, drawing the linesor stage, as it werefor what is to come next. The stylization seemingly reinforces fellow football enthusiast Pier Paolo Pasolini's assessment that football is the only remaining sacred representation, both a ritual and a spectacle, and the modern-day replacement of theatre. 61 The disembodied camera that tracks the (as far as it can be discerned) imaginary group back in the Gaivota bar frames an 'imaginary community', participants in a ritual which transcends time and space. They are framed as a group of 61 Pier Paolo Pasolini, Saggi sulla letteratura e sull'arte, Vol. II (Milano: Meridiani Mondadori, 1999). spectators who have expectations of Mané. In a dreamlike sequence featuring Lucy, friends and customers, as well as a diverse array of supporters, who muse about Mané's presence in the match, we have a first glimpse at a community imagined (by Mané) who supports him for who he is and not what he might have been: Lucy herself listens to the match on the radio as it brings her closer to Mané. As Américo had forewarned, he is further from the football that he loves in Lisbon than he would be in Cape Verde, among the family and friends who he evokes and who, through parallel editing, celebrate Benfica's goal in the final simultaneously with Mané. When watching, from an estranged distance, the football match for which he sacrificed so much, when focusing on the goalkeeper and then on Veloso and Águas as they play and celebrate as part of a team, Mané comes to terms with his life choices. Obviously, Américo's story of disillusionment has helped put things into perspective as well, as Mané and Américo reunite as brothers but with football (and footballing glory) now as part of an illusory past. going against the grain of a postcolonial nostalgic mode in a way that often betrays an analysis of postcolonial ties and, to use Arenas' terms, affects. Kalu, for instance, has his eyes set on joining his uncle in the United States. Mané's bewilderment at the notion that Kalu is considering a country in which football is not the most popular sport has comedy value but also reveals that Mané's allegiance, although bound by nation-specific and postcolonial contexts, is contrary to those, such as Eusébio, who have made it as football players and become symbols or vehicles for certain ideologiesto football itelf. This is revealed in the frank exchange he has with his son in Lisbon after having missed the Cup match, which Mané has taken surprisingly well, all things considered. Mané confides to his son that he will always be proud of having been a footballer, even if that means nothing to others.
Early in the film, Djackever the instigator, but providing in this instance an accurate assessment of Mané's football allegiancesmaps Cape Verde's relation (cultural, economic, migratory) to foreign influences (African and European) when pointing out to Mané that competing establishments have as prizes to their draws, passages to Dakar and Holland, and that Mané should raffle a passage to Lisbon as the prize rather than a bicycle.
The mid-Atlantic positioning of the islands does not imply that they are condemned to be, in the words Freyre used to describe the archipelago, islands in search of a 'clear, defined fate'. 68 In other words, bonds are not necessarily binding, although they must be addressed. Nuno interactions, to gather in public places, as a means to make arguments, to discuss but also to be connected to a larger world. 70 The same could be said for Cape Verde, judging from Mané's barand presumably the bars that offer trips to competing narratives such as Dakar and Hollandas a place for social gathering, discussion, and connection to a larger world. Djack's triangulation of S. Vicente island by using the bars of Mindelo as markers is useful in that it contextualises Mané's obsession with Benfica and, consequently, with the ex-metropolitan capital; it places Portugal and Lisbon alongside other competing narratives. Football can provide more than a means for powerful national identification (which undeniably it does), as Hobsbawm came to realise.
Football, according to Hobsbawm, has become the 'public activity' that best illustrates the 'dialectics of the relations between globalisation, national identity and xenophobia'. 71 The film has the first two points covered as it reveals the diasporic ties that recent trends in globalization have accelerated and transformed. In a seemingly paradoxical fashion, football can act, as watching the Portuguese Cup final on TV displays a variety of football jerseys belonging to clubs from different nations (Portugal, Italy, United Kingdom) and even to national teams (i.e.

Brazil).
Djack's remapping of the island's connections in postcoloniality gains relevance because it is Djack's questioning of Mané's 'benfiquismo' and Américo's football prowess, combined with Kalu's remark on Mané having lost the opportunity of a lifetime, that spurs Mané to fly to Lisbon, discover Américo's fate, see the match and act as an agent on Kalu's behalf. Mané's success means that, if all goes well, Kalu is set to leave the island, as do a growing number of young football talents from former European colonies who migrate to Europe looking for opportunities in professional football, and who oftendue to economic dependency, or affective allegiance (of clubs, staff)follow routes established during the colonial period. The case can be made that even this ending is far from confirming the diagnosis of alienation of Cape Verdeans when it comes to sporting allegiances. It does nevertheless confirm wider neoliberal and neocolonial trends associated with the globalized industry of football. In the 'broader border ecumene' between 'European nations and old imperial outposts' when it comes to the migration of football players, 72 it is difficult not to share Darby's concerns regarding the way in which young talents can be nothing more than a colonial and neocolonial resource (2006). Nevertheless, as Todd Cleveland has pointed out (2017), even the players hailing from the colonies during the Estado Novo regime can be seen less as mere pawns and more as individuals who took advantage ofwhatever limitedopportunities the colonial sports setup could offer. In other words, Kalu is far from doomed to repeat the mistakes of Américo or to become a victim (in symbolic and discursive terms) of his own success, as was the case with Eusébio.
It is only in the very final scene, which is evocative of the opening shots, that the viewer comes to appreciate fully Mané's reply to Djack that a bicycle can take you anywhere, as long as you have imagination and keep peddling. Djack and Mané symbolically reconcile when Djack wins the raffle but insists Mané should keep the bicyle, since Djack cannot ride a bicyle and Benfica, contrary to what Djack had prophesied, won the final. Djack's fittingly appeasing gesture of handing the prize back to Manéwho can then offer it to his grandson and thus make some amends for his insensitivity earlier in the filmdenotes the greater recognition that Mané commands. After having failed to succeed (indeed, to take a chance) in the colonial sports network as a football player, Mané redeems himself by becoming an agent in postcoloniality and building for others, in this case Kalu, an opportunity to succeed in international football. The task that Mané has compulsively set for himself in his journey to Lisbon bears fruits as he gains the respect of others, symbolized by Djack's peace offer, but also, as a variant on the aforementioned master thematic of gaining (or losing) respect or acceptance which is characteristic of sports film, regains self-respect. This will allow Mané to mend the somewhat strained relationship he had with the larger community of friends and family, as it is only upon his successful return from Lisbon, where he reconciles with his estranged son before leaving, 72 Giulianotti and Robertson (2009), 146. that Mané is able to rekindle the relationship with his family back on the island, namely his wife and grandson, as well as with friends and customers. The composition of the bycicle raffle scene presents Mané as part of a larger community of friends and family, whereas before his trip to Lisbon he is distanced and even at odds with some individuals. He now has the selfrespect to reimagine, indeed refashion his role in the community, and the film's closing scene will move on to present a confident Mané who has gained, or regained the acceptance of those around him. While in conversation on the pier with Kalu, Mané mounts the bicycle with Kalu's help and starts cycling. When Kalu warns Mané that the pier has no way out, Mané's answer is revealing: 'It doesn't matter!'. The viewer is aware that Mané has had to embellish the truth: the ticket stub which is proudly on display in the bar wall was retrieved from the tout and Mané will ask for his son's complicity in keeping his failure to attend the final a secret. However, there is a striking difference: Mané is now, in more than one sense of the word, an agent and he is now able to take control of the narrative, however open-ended it is. Whereas before he was left behind, in the harbour, staring at the ship which took his friend to live his own dream, Mané is now able to imagine ways in which both himself and Kalu may dribble fate.