A day with the Lopes family: 'That's why he's Pico. He's a strong fella. It makes me a very proud man'

There is even more reason for Roberto Lopes to have such pride now that he is a Cape Verde international, having belatedly replied to a message on networking website LinkedIn from the national team manager

Shamrock Rovers and Cape Verde footballer Roberto Lopes with his father Carlos Lopes pictured at his home in Crumlin, Dublin. Pictures: Harry Murphy/Sportsfile

Welcome to a socially distanced living room.

On one couch is Roberto ‘Pico’ Lopes, who sits beneath a photograph of the day he made his First Holy Communion.

A few feet away in a chair in the corner is his father, Carlos ‘Caluccha’ Lopes. Nailed to the wall above him is a signed drum bearing the Bohemians crest. It was a gift the squad presented to Carlos, an experienced chef, after he volunteered for a couple of years preparing pre-match meals while his son was on the books at Dalymount Park.

On the coffee table in the middle of the room sits a sturdy crystal football. It is the player of the year trophy Lopes received at Bohs in 2015. “It’s still there because the cat isn’t able to knock it off,” Carlos laughs.

These two items cannot be ignored considering Lopes is aiming to deliver a historic double for bitter rivals Shamrock Rovers when the Hoops face Dundalk in Sunday’s FAI Cup final.

“I don’t live here anymore so I don’t have a say,” the Rovers centre-back laughs. “But it’s handy because I’m only in an apartment right across the road with my girlfriend Leah now.” 

That has been more than helpful during the last year as part of his parents’ Covid support bubble. Julie Lopes, Carlos’ wife for more than 30 years, is a secretary at local school Loreto College but is not yet home from work. She is due to make an appearance any minute.

Across the room behind the coffee table where the Irish Examiner is sitting, Carlos points to one of the pictures on the cabinet, which is a treasure trove of memories to their sons Christopher, Roberto, and Jack.

Roberto is around eight years of age and decked out in the yellow and green of Lourdes Celtic. 

“This is the man,” Carlos says. “This is the man who when he was a baby you could take his milk bottle out of his mouth and he wouldn’t cry. Not a sound. But take his football away from him and he would be balling.” 

For three decades there has been no need for a number on this house.

It is a corner of Crumlin in Dublin that has been known as ‘Providence’, the sign hanging proudly beside the door on the end of terrace since it was brought back from a visit to one of Carlos’ older brothers in Providence, Rhode Island.

Crumlin is where Carlos and Julie started their family after getting married in October 1988 following a three-year courtship that endured despite the fact Carlos would often spend six months at a time on commercial Maersk liners travelling the globe.

“When you think of it, I took a huge risk,” Julie, originally from Terenure, teases. “It could have been a complete disaster marrying someone from the other part of world when we barely ever saw each other. You were always away on the ships. We would write to each other and I remember we went on a tour around Ireland – Wicklow, Wexford, Waterford, Cork, Kerry, Galway, I think we ended up in Sligo. But I suppose it worked out alright in the end.” 

Carlos’ reply is swift and cheeky. “As a seaman, you have to be a fishing man and carry your hook.” 

It worked when he was in Dublin, where Julie volunteered in the Stella Maris seaman’s mission.

“Ireland has been my home for all these years,” Carlos says, explaining how he was one of 12 siblings born on Sao Nicolau, one of the 10 islands which makes up Cape Verde, almost 600 kilometres west of Africa.

Or, as he likes to put it whenever anyone in Dublin asks. “Sure it’s just below the Canaries where you go on holidays every year,” he smiles.

“I have been here longer than I lived in Cape Verde. I have been here for so long. If I went back to Cape Verde I wouldn’t know where to start.” 

Providence is a quiet oasis nestled just off the busy Long Mile Road, where the neighbours all used to know each other. And their business.

Carlos remembers the street parties each New Year’s Eve, when he would bring out finger food and some bubbly to celebrate with others on the cul de sac.

“In the old days, we knew everyone by name. Everyone. Now it is different, we don’t even know their names now,” he laments.

“But that is just the way things go, Da,” Roberto interjects. “People grow up and move away, new people come in, things are always changing.” 

Carlos leans forward in his chair. “That is true. I remember the first time I came to Dublin, I would walk down O’Connell Street and people would never have seen a coloured person before,” Carlos says.

“They would smile and say ‘alright, howya, how are you doing?’ They might think you were a doctor in the College of Surgeons. It was a much different country back then, a lot poorer and more relaxed. Now it is different, people are busy with their lives, and it is a much more multi-cultural place.” 

Roberto smiles, although the memory of a walk on the beach with the old family dog a few years ago illustrates how things have not quite progressed as they should. 

“He ran over to another dog and started playing with them. I just laughed with the owner about it and how he liked to play with other dogs. They turned and told me they didn’t expect me to speak the way I did.

“I honestly don’t take exception to it. I don’t think there was malice in it. When people ask me where I’m from and I tell them Crumlin they might say ‘where are you really from?’ Some people will take offence to that happening but I don’t if there is no malice.

“I don’t feel as if I have been left scarred by stuff like that. No one gave me a hard time growing up, no one made me feel bad about myself growing up.

“When people ask me where I’m from I can tell them my Da is from Cape Verde and then I use it as a chance to talk about my family and my heritage.” 

Roberto Lopes

His nickname Pico, for example, was given to him by his father as a child, as is tradition on the islands. “It means ‘strong fella’,” Carlos explains.

There is even more reason to have such pride now that he is a Cape Verde international, having belatedly replied to a message on networking website LinkedIn from the national team manager about linking up in 2018. 

“It makes us all very happy and very proud,” Carlos beams. “Friends and family who are still down there get in touch to follow him and want to find out if he is in the squad. It is special for us all.” 

Roberto continues: “I feel like I am there to represent my Da and the family. It’s great to say with pride that I play for Cape Verde. I have been able to connect with cousins and uncles because of it. I spoke to my godfather Pedro the other day and he is a really big fan of the team, but it didn’t stop him slating a few of the players to me!” 

When Carlos was young and single life on the ships was carefree. 

You made your money and then you burned through it. You would get another call again and be away for another six months. Asia, Africa, South America, everywhere.”

There would be liners filled with beans from Argentina to Angola. The sugar trade between Brazil and Senegal was also brisk. This was Carlos’ life for 15 years, until he missed the birth of Roberto because he was at sea. That’s when he decided it was no longer the one he wished to live. But still, work would prove all-consuming when he got involved in the hotel game.

“I didn’t seem the boys grow up properly because of work,” Carlos continues. “It was Julie who took Pico to training and was there for those moments with him.” 

Not that it seemed that way to his son. “I never felt as if you weren’t there,” Pico insists. “You would drop us to school in the morning and we might not see you until the next morning but we kind of just knew that you were at work.

“It wasn’t as if you were never around. For me, you and Ma never stood in my way to play football. You saw I had the love and the passion for it. You both always encouraged the three of us. I always felt growing up that if I wanted to try something you would support us and that support would help to achieve it.” 

That’s why he felt secure enough to turn his back on life as a part-time footballer with Bohs and leave his full-time job as a mortgage advisor when Shamrock Rovers came calling four years ago.

“It’s the best decision I ever made to give it my best shot and go all out for it because all I've wanted is to give myself the best chance of becoming as good a player as I can be.”

A stalwart of the League of Ireland over the last decade, the 28-year-old, a former teammate of John Egan with Ireland's Under-19s, is beginning to reap the rewards of such commitment.

A League title was secured this season, having lifted the Cup in 2019 and, on a personal front, he was recognised earlier this week with a place on the three-man shortlist for PFA Ireland player of the year alongside teammate Jack Byrne and Bohs' winger Danny Grant.

“I was shocked to hear the news, I really was.” 

He shouldn't have been. Lopes has grown into one of the most complete defenders in the Premier Division, something Carlos is often reminded of.

“When I see people now they ask me if Pico is my son. When I tell them yes they say ‘Jaysis, he’s a very good player, he’s great.’ That is why he is Pico. Because he is a strong fella. So for me that is a real pleasure to hear. It makes me a very proud man.”