In a country where baseball reigns supreme, João Tamura turns his lens toward the quiet, persistent rise of football in Cuba.
From the dusty streets of Havana to improvised pitches in Santiago, he captures the sport not just as a game, but as a growing symbol of hope, identity, and global connection.
In this evocative essay, Tamura explores how football takes root in the margins — played barefoot, beneath peeling balconies, by boys chasing dreams stitched in the colours of distant clubs.
“Perhaps it comes from the skinny bodies dodging stones, stray dogs, and potholes in the streets of Santiago, as if they were Barcelona defenders.”
SLOWLY LIKE SHY FLOWERS
In Cuba, football is omnipresent: it’s played at any time, in any place — from the streets of Havana, where piles of stones stand in for goalposts, to the Playas del Este, where boys run until sweat blends with salt
