Era su primera gran final. Siguiendo el ritual de siempre, fijó su mirada en el horizonte y pudo ver a sus amigos al otro lado.
Vio a Formigâo, quien le arregló la tabla rota, que había encontrado un día entre las rocas, a cambio de barrer su taller durante un mes. Vio a Zé “Pagodinho” en su tienda de la plaza, donde le regalaba parafinas y algunas camisetas, y a la negra Rosinha preparándole pan con dulce de guayaba en su cocina impregnada por el aroma del café recién hecho. Vio a Zeca “Pés de Pato” llevándolo en su vieja camioneta a los campeonatos de las playas cercanas, y a Mario Barboza, a quien ayudaba a limpiar su “pousada” para poder comprar tablas usadas a otros surfistas. Vio a todos los que le habían ayudado a llegar hasta allí.
Cogió su tabla y corrió hacia el mar. Sonó la bocina. No los iba a defraudar.
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It was his first big final. Following his usual ceremony, he stared at the horizon and could see his friends at the other side.
He saw Formigâo, who fixed the broken surf board he had found one day between the rocks, in exchange for sweeping his workshop for a whole month. He saw Zé “Pagodinho” in his shop of the Square where he´d give him surf wax and some t-shirts, and the black Rosinha making some bread with guayaba jam for him at her kitchen scented by the smell of fresh coffee. He saw Zeca “Pés de Pato” taking him to the contests at the nearby beaches, and Mario Barboza, whose “Pousada” he´d help him to clean so as to be able to buy second hand boards from other surfers. He saw all the people who had helped him get there.
He took his board and ran into the sea. The horn blew. He wasn’t letting them down.