Hadrian He was synonymous with a player who could do anything when he started to emerge. Earn the nickname Emperor It’s only for a few and the Brazilian striker was one of them. More of those who know the sport go so far as to say that it could have been better than Ronaldo Nazaire “if he had wanted to”, although there are even more who forget why he did not want to, rather they did not let him
The striker, who retired years ago, speaks about his career, about the reasons for what seemed like a star brighter than the sun fading from one day to the next: the death of his father. It’s no secret that his father’s murder completely changed his life. Hadrian when it shone in Italy
“I drink every other day… And the others too. How does someone like me end up drinking almost every day? I don’t like giving explanations to others but it’s not easy to be a promise who remains in debt. And at my age, it’s even worse,” he says. Hadrian, who still remembers what he could have been and how deeply he was affected by his father’s death.
“All the lessons I learned from my father were in the actions. We didn’t have in-depth conversations… His daily uprightness and the respect others had for him was what impressed me the most,” he says. Hadrian in a public letter to The Players’ Tribunewhere he states that “my father’s death changed my life forever” so much so that to this day, “it is a problem I have yet to resolve; “It all started here, in the community that means so much to me.”
And that’s it Hadrian He remains tormented not only by the death of his father, but also by other family members and friends who lost their lives Vila Cruzeiroone of Rio de Janeiro’s strongholds where most of the drug traffickers live: “If I stopped to count all the people I know who died violently, we would be here talking for days and days.”
“I was devastated. I had a bottle of vodka. I’m not exaggerating, brother. I drank all this shit alone. I filled my ass with vodka. I cried all night. I passed out on the couch because I drank too much and cried. But that was it, wasn’t it, man? “What could I do?” he said of his father’s death.
“When I ‘ran away’ from Inter and left Italy, I came to hide here,” he says of Vila Cruzeirowhere “no one found me, there’s no way”, and states that there is “the number one rule of the favela: shut the fuck up”. Do you think anyone would report me? There are no rats here, brother. The Italian press has gone crazy. The Rio police even carried out an operation to “rescue” me. They said they kidnapped me. You’re kidding, right? “Imagine if someone hurt me here… to me, a child from the favela.”
“Whether I liked it or not, I needed freedom. I couldn’t stand having to always be attentive to the cameras every time I went out in Italy, to everyone who crossed my path, whether it was a journalist, a crook, a con artist or any other son of a bitch”, he said. about his life in Italy as a player, thus settling his letter Hadrian: “The biggest waste in football: I… I like that word, waste. Not just because of how it seems, but because I’m obsessed with wasting my life. I’m fine like this, in a frenzied waste. “I appreciate that stigma.”
