Some have found Camilo's handling of his transfer push to Queretaro FC from the Vancouver Whitecaps distasteful. Goal's Martin MacMahon counters that view.For those disgusted with Camilo's handling of his transfer saga to Queretaro FC from the Vancouver Whitecaps, take pause.
He's disloyal! He's used the club to further his career! How could he do this to us?
Those may be the cries from some, but what will loyalty to a middling Major League Soccer outfit get any professional soccer player? Athletes have notoriously short careers – so when a Golden Boot year comes in a career that might run approximately a decade if you're lucky, you capitalize on it.
Either the club you play for gives you a raise, or you and your agent finds one which will.
Put succinctly, loyalty is for losers.
Camilo may have played in Vancouver, but he is a globetrotting mercenary, having plied his trade on four continents. He has no connection to the city and no obligation beyond performing for his paycheque. And once that performance exceeds that level of compensation, you get a raise, or you get a move.
That's how it works in international soccer.
But let's get sentimental for a moment here. How about the club's slogan, “Our all. Our Honour.”?
Shouldn't Camilo have acted more honourably here?
Forgive the Brazilian if he decided to play hardball with a club that showed little indication it takes its slogan seriously last year by treating then-player Alain Rochat like he was a commodity rather than a person.
In that instance, then-head coach Martin Rennie traded Rochat to D.C. United just weeks before his wife was set to give birth, in a move to free up salary for incoming goalkeeper David Ousted. It's worth noting that club officials called Rochat to apologize for the handling of the move about a month after the trade, but materially the damage had been done.
Forgive any players on the books in Vancouver if they sat up sharply and thought to themselves that they were on their own.
Camilo is a confident person, but he is not arrogant. While lesser players scamper off as soon as practice formally concludes, he sticks around and works on his free kicks. He knows he has to continue improving if he is to reach his full potential, and earn the financial rewards that come with that success.
He's a hard working man, reluctant to speak about his childhood in Presidente Prudente in Sao Paulo, Brazil.
Camilo is not a millionaire or a show off. He drives a Ford Focus and enjoys a modest, quiet life away from the field with his wife Jessica.
He doesn't proudly proclaim his brilliance, make arrogant boasts, or claim credit for whatever achievements his team accomplishes. When a question from a reporter is framed in a complimentary way, he often shares the credit for his performances in his answer instead of soaking up the spotlight, giving kudos to his teammates or perhaps a member of the coaching staff.
Furthermore, Camilo was misused for large stretches of his time in Vancouver. Arriving as an out-and-out striker, Rennie insisted on playing him at left wing for the majority of 2012.
Then, in 2013, the player started the season on the bench, starting just two of the club's first seven games.
How much whining did we hear from Camilo? Not a whisper. He went on to force Rennie to play him by scoring goal after beautiful goal, electrifying fans around the league.
In essence, Camilo has been the ideal pro, and it's not unreasonable to suggest his success has come in spite of the club rather than because of it.
Quite frankly, if Camilo isn't worth a raise, who is?
We live in a capitalist society, and it doesn't get more capitalist than professional sports.
Here are the rules: If you love me, don't tell me. Pay me.