I met Gabrielly Souza Barbosa, the goddess of small midfielders, at her parents’ house by the edge of the world. It was the only home that she had ever known, and she still slept in her childhood bedroom. The world had changed — the climate, mankind, and the game of soccer had changed, technology had come and optimized the sport. The technology of machines and of people: everyone has a diet plan, all the players are fast and strong, and you can’t succeed without being so. The fitness revolution has reached its zenith and the tactical game is to follow. Through it all she has remained in the small house in the horizon. She said there was no reason to leave; she saw everything from there, and in her opinion, nothing has really changed that much.
Brief Interviews with the soccer gods: Goddess of small midfielders
When I arrived she was alone, her parents had gone out to pick mushrooms. I wondered what the parents of a god looked like. Whether they looked human, were in some way human, or did they choose to look that way? And what were their other forms? I thought of the life of gods, how Gabrielly came to being. Whether gods are born or made, which ones are born and which ones are made. She said that gods are like geniuses, some are born and some are made. So how can you tell the difference? “I guess you really can’t.”
We sat in her living room and she brought in some tea. We talked about Zico. Underrated. But was he really short? He was 5’7, close to 5’8. Is that short? Messi is around the same height and being short is part of his myth. Is Messi a midfielder? He sees himself as a midfielder. He plays that position sometimes and often drifts there during the game and may end up making that a permanent home with age, but it’s not his starting position. What about Zico? He was closer to a forward than he was to a midfielder, but that’s the problem with the label of an attacking midfielder. Some even tried to pass the black Pele as a midfielder! Maradona is another problem altogether. What about Cesc Fabregas? In theory, 5’9 isn’t short, but he was part of that Spanish team known for their lack of height and technical ability. Who were her children?
She laughed, like only a god could laugh, and I felt insecure. I felt ashamed, as if the little house of hers had expanded into a soccer field and I was running and falling over myself trying to get the ball from her. I was once an uncertain midfielder. Until college I was short — around 5’6 — and played in the center but had the freedom to dribble and score goals. I scored more than anyone on the team, and often more than everyone in the leagues and tournaments we played in. Sometime between my first and second year in college, I grew, stopped being a playmaker, and became tall, fast and strong.
I started playing on the wing; at least there I could still dribble. Then I played up front, which was less dribbling but more scoring, though playing with my back to the goal was a hassle. I preferred to see the whole field. That can only be done from the center. So I returned with a defiant attitude to play small in a bigger body. I wondered if she could sense the imposter syndrome.
We talked about Luka Modric, Richie Williams, Bobby Collins, and Edgar Davids. I asked her what the advantages of being small in soccer were. She said none. Like all things in life, the advantages came with disadvantages. In making a decision, you give up the alternatives. So there were also no disadvantages to being small? She said that the advantages of being a big midfielder seemed to be in the ability to hold off opponents and win the ball back. What coaches called steel. Toughness. Physicality. “But Claude Makélélé was 5’6. Isn’t that wonderful?” The advantages of being small were the lower center of gravity, ball control and retention, being able to dribble. “Let’s be honest, we all want to be Riquelme.”
She turned on the television and put in a tape of the Euro 2012 Final. We watched Spain play Italy, a game that was the ending of an era for both teams in a way that few people at the time could tell. Both teams would fail to make it out of their groups in the World Cup two years later. Spain were embarrassed by Holland. Chile and Italy lost to Uruguay and Costa Rica. Italy would also miss out of the next World Cup.
We watched Spain play without a forward, employing Xavi, Busquets and Xabi Alonso in the middle and David Silva, Fabregas, and Iniesta up front. Italy had Pirlo, Marchisio, Montolivo, and De Rossi. Iniesta played in Fabregas who crossed it for Silva to head in for the first goal and Gabrielly said, “I remember a quote: ‘I’ve never seen being small as a disadvantage; everyone has their qualities. Don’t ask me to beat a guy who’s 1.80m in the air: ask me to do other things I’m better than him at.’ I think that sums it up well.”
I asked her who said that. “Iniesta, of course.” Was that him or you speaking through him? “I don’t know. Maybe both? Same as gods being made or born. It doesn’t matter.” Jordi Alba, Fernando Torres, and Juan Mata scored to give Spain their second consecutive Euro title and their third international championship in as many tournaments. I remember thinking in those days that I would give anything to be small again.
