2025-08-26, 08:00 AM - Word count:
Predrag found himself walking the streets of Sao Paulo. He knew some people in the city so he decided to visit. The club invited him to watch a preseason friendly, he originally thought about declining it as to not attract and unwanted attention from press who love to make up transfer stories but eventually he caved in and accepted the offer from his friends.
In the mean time he decided to explore the city. In the morning he took a walk to Paulista Avenue. Seeing that he had already traveled a good bit of the world, Predrag was not unfamiliar with the fact that people are mostly the same everywhere. Yet he still found it oddly comforting that even in places like Brazil there were still classic financial hubs filled with banks and corporate HQs. It looked like a scene from Belgrade. The early morning rush was filled with all shades of suits dashing away to "important" meetings. As he sat down in a café to drink some tea, he had to admit to himself that a slight part of him was smug he didn't have to "work a normal job". He was an athlete and an entertainer, and he liked it that way. He could never sit in on hours of financial meetings and marketing strategies.
As he finished his tea and morning turned to noon, he made his way to Mercado Municipal. He was hungry and he heard tales of a legendary sandwich no man could finish, the mortadela sandwich. He knew that he would most likely fail the challenge but it was fun just to participate. As was to be expected, it was packed with people and Predrag had to wait in line. He was sort of able to get by so far with his half-assed knowledge of Portuguese but here it was proving difficult. Eventually he was able to find a stand where he could order his food and a few onlookers saw that he ordered the massive pile of meat they call a sandwich. It was preseason, he could cheat on his diet. Through the power of his Slavic ancestors and his unwavering determination, Predrag was able to finish the sandwich. By the end he was sweating so much he looked like he just came from a 120 minute slog of a match. As a reward for his show of eating prowess, the man who sold him the sandwich gave him a second to eat later. Predrag gave his best smile and politely accepted, knowing full well he would most likely give it to someone else.
He still had time before the match later in the evening so he decided to visit the Museu do Futebol. The football museum was built into the stands of the old Estádio do Pacaembu. As Predrag walked through it's exhibits, he could feel all the great moments these players had. After all, he was a professional player who had participated in important games too, though his career was still in it's infancy. Predrag was well aware how much football meant to people, especially here in Brazil, but seeing a museum dedicated to the people who played the beautiful game make him wonder if one day he too would be remembered. He saw all the kids running around and looking at the great deeds of their idols and he was a little jealous he didn't have that kind of childhood too. It was his own pretentiousness that stopped him from enjoying football in his youth. He was at least happy he could see the beautiful game for the art it was now.
His phone rang and he knew it was time. So he made his way to the main stadium in the city, to see Sao Paulo play. And to not so subtly study their tactics and playstyles.
This dramatic retelling of events was written by Predrag Dobrić and sponsored my Montreal United.
In the mean time he decided to explore the city. In the morning he took a walk to Paulista Avenue. Seeing that he had already traveled a good bit of the world, Predrag was not unfamiliar with the fact that people are mostly the same everywhere. Yet he still found it oddly comforting that even in places like Brazil there were still classic financial hubs filled with banks and corporate HQs. It looked like a scene from Belgrade. The early morning rush was filled with all shades of suits dashing away to "important" meetings. As he sat down in a café to drink some tea, he had to admit to himself that a slight part of him was smug he didn't have to "work a normal job". He was an athlete and an entertainer, and he liked it that way. He could never sit in on hours of financial meetings and marketing strategies.
As he finished his tea and morning turned to noon, he made his way to Mercado Municipal. He was hungry and he heard tales of a legendary sandwich no man could finish, the mortadela sandwich. He knew that he would most likely fail the challenge but it was fun just to participate. As was to be expected, it was packed with people and Predrag had to wait in line. He was sort of able to get by so far with his half-assed knowledge of Portuguese but here it was proving difficult. Eventually he was able to find a stand where he could order his food and a few onlookers saw that he ordered the massive pile of meat they call a sandwich. It was preseason, he could cheat on his diet. Through the power of his Slavic ancestors and his unwavering determination, Predrag was able to finish the sandwich. By the end he was sweating so much he looked like he just came from a 120 minute slog of a match. As a reward for his show of eating prowess, the man who sold him the sandwich gave him a second to eat later. Predrag gave his best smile and politely accepted, knowing full well he would most likely give it to someone else.
He still had time before the match later in the evening so he decided to visit the Museu do Futebol. The football museum was built into the stands of the old Estádio do Pacaembu. As Predrag walked through it's exhibits, he could feel all the great moments these players had. After all, he was a professional player who had participated in important games too, though his career was still in it's infancy. Predrag was well aware how much football meant to people, especially here in Brazil, but seeing a museum dedicated to the people who played the beautiful game make him wonder if one day he too would be remembered. He saw all the kids running around and looking at the great deeds of their idols and he was a little jealous he didn't have that kind of childhood too. It was his own pretentiousness that stopped him from enjoying football in his youth. He was at least happy he could see the beautiful game for the art it was now.
His phone rang and he knew it was time. So he made his way to the main stadium in the city, to see Sao Paulo play. And to not so subtly study their tactics and playstyles.
This dramatic retelling of events was written by Predrag Dobrić and sponsored my Montreal United.
![[Image: wjZShPO.png]](https://i.imgur.com/wjZShPO.png)
