To the east, the Great Wall of China. To the west, Domingos da Guia.
In the entire history of soccer no fullback was more solid. Domingos was champion in four cities — Rio de Janeiro, São Paulo, Montevideo, and Buenos Aires — and he was adored by all four. When he played, the stadiums were always jam-packed.
Fullbacks used to stick like stamps to the attacking strikers and peel off the ball as quickly as possible, wafting it to high heaven before it burned their feet. Domingos, in contrast, let his adversaries stampede vainly by while he stole the ball; then he would take all the time in the world to bring it out of the box. A man of imperturbable style, he was always whistling and looking the other way. He scorned speed. Master of suspense, lover of leisure, he would play in slow motion: the art of bringing the ball out slowly, calmly, was baptized domingada. When he finally let the ball go, he did so without ever running and without wanting to, because it saddened him to be left without her.