Copa 71

I just finished watching Copa 71. If you haven’t seen it, you probably don’t want to read my reactions to it. The film is incredible. It deserves to been seen, not read about.

Spoiler free review: Fuck FIFA.

15 Minutes In:

From the very start, I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster. It began with intrigue, quickly dissolved into anger, and then shifted to joy with a pinch of dread on the side.

I often find myself thinking in black and white terms, especially when it comes to women's sports. "Of course women can play football” my brain defaults to. “How can anyone think otherwise?” So, when the documentary presented a quote like, "I think it’s a curiosity, both erotic and comedic," in reference to women's football, I was truly baffled.

Why, for so many years, and still to this day, does everything women do have to be connected to men in some way? Why can't people just let each other live? It hurts my head.

1 Hour In:

Sick. That's my current feeling. I just feel sick.

I planned on pausing more and talking about what was going on and how I was feeling, but I got too emotionally invested in the World Cup itself as the documentary continued. The passion and competitiveness on display were electric.

There were some great talking points: the World Cup being a way for rich men to make more money, the event being pitched as a way to make women's soccer "sexy," the clothing choices, potential cheating from the refs, and FIFA being awful as usual. Once the documentary got into the matches themselves, I forgot I wanted to keep notes and just became a fan.

Then, the ball dropped. The clock struck midnight. All the fun and games came to an end. These women, who had put on an absolute show over the course of three matches, had the audacity to suggest financial compensation. They didn't demand it. They didn't make an ultimatum. They simply asked, "Why aren't we being paid?" And the media did what the media does.

How dare they. You're supposed to be here to entertain us! Fragile men make me sick. This is what I meant when I said I find it hard not to see things in black and white. How could anyone possibly think they didn't deserve to be paid?

Alright, I need to finish this before I explode in anger.

Final Thoughts:

The tears wouldn't stop flowing for the last half hour of this documentary. My anger was devoured by the sheer beauty of sport. There's absolutely nothing like it, and if there is, I haven't found it. There's nothing more human than giving everything you have to achieve a dream. When you combine that with the never-ending storylines, emotions, and bonds formed over a ball rolling around on grass, you have magic.

110,000 people watching a women's soccer final in 1971 should have been a long-overdue beginning. Instead, fragile egos and unchecked masculinity got in the way. They were shunned, banned and ignored.

"Why couldn't they use our success to build on... why?"

"I don't understand it. Do you understand it?"

Ladies, I know you weren't asking me, but no, I don't understand it. I simply do not, and never will. My heart aches for you.

To shame these women after they returned home is an egregious enough offense in my eyes, to ban them from playing physically hurts me, but to hide the history… ugh, I need a drink.

I’m sure I’ll have more thoughts on this tomorrow, but right now I want to go fist fight FIFA.

If you read this far without watching it, go rent this Documentary right now. Don’t let the history of this beautiful event go buried for another second.