The somewhat narrow corridor between dull walls leads to an equally narrow anteroom. In the small room, there is only a table, a chair, and a closed gray door. Above the door hangs a red lamp. With the lamp on, no one can enter the room the door protects. To the right of the lamp, a picture frame hanging on the wall features a photograph of two people smiling and holding a red-and-black shirt: one is US President Barack Obama. The other works behind the gray door—the president of Clube de Regatas do Flamengo, Patrícia Amorim.

The red light is Patrícia Filler Amorim's last line of defense. With it on, no one can open the door and enter the presidential office—a large room with a wooden table, a desk, and a bookshelf. Patrícia sits at the desk, her back to the large windows, mounted on rollers, which separate the office from a balcony overlooking the reflecting pool of Rodrigo de Freitas Lagoon. Protected by labyrinthine corridors and surrounded by a postcard-perfect landscape, Patrícia controls the fate of 9 members... and the dreams of 35 million fans.

In a corner of the wide balcony, almost at the railing, overlooking Christ the Redeemer and the Lagoa Rowing Stadium, hides an old chair with a worm-eaten brown upholstery. There, on the humble and somewhat improvised seat, with a jaw-dropping view, is where Patrícia takes refuge.

- This is my chair. It's where I sit when I have to think and even cry. This is my refuge in difficult times.

And the Flamengo presidency is never short of difficult times. Patrícia became the first woman to preside over the club shortly after winning the 2009 Brazilian Championship. At the country's most popular football club, where every calm seems like the eve of a storm, the president seems to face a crisis every week. In 2010, she faced the Bruno case, the Adriano Imperador scandal, the agreements and disagreements with Zico, all tempered by the fight against relegation. In 2011, things seemed to have changed: Ronaldinho Gaúcho was hired, the club won the Rio de Janeiro state championship undefeated and was enjoying an excellent run in the Brasileirão. Suddenly, the team stopped winning... and the clouds returned. They started winning again - and a crisis arose within the football department... out of nowhere.

- Flamengo is like that. Constantly boiling.

This is a real buzz. With nine thousand members, the club fielded six candidates in the last election. And few people voted. Patrícia won with 792 votes out of a possible 2,4—beating the runner-up (Delair Dumbrosck) by a mere 93. Shortly after, she described the club's current situation as "almost like Afghanistan." When football goes poorly, the presidential seat heats up. August spilled over into September, and the team went ten rounds without a win. Tempers flared, one board member assaulted another at the club's headquarters... and former president Márcio Braga slammed Patrícia's administration—calling her inept and downright degrading. The president took the blow—and responded with a slap to the chest.

- When I play the Baiana it's hard, because I cause hurt, I go straight to the heart, I say what I have to say - he says.

Mother, executive, councilor
Patrícia was beside herself with criticism from Márcio, a former ally and vice president. Relations between the red and black parties are complex and complicated—some groups support each other and constantly switch sides.

"Flamengo has six living and active former presidents. It's not for beginners," says a former club executive.

Despite her angry response to Márcio, Patrícia usually thinks before speaking. After all, every red-and-black crisis starts at home. Married to economist Fernando Sihman, Patrícia has four children: Vítor, 14, twins Ricardo and Daniel (nine), and the youngest, Leonardo, five. It was Leonardo who, at the height of the crisis, sought out his mother and said:

- Mom, you have to do something. People are going to "oooh" at you.

Patrícia laughed and absorbed it. Mother, wife, executive. This triple—or quadruple—life isn't for everyone. Besides being president of Flamengo, she's a councilwoman in the Rio City Council (for 11 years—she's already been reelected three times). On weekdays, she usually wakes up at 5:30 a.m., gets Vitor ready for class, and—if there's time—walks the alleys of Península, a condominium nestled in Barra da Tijuca—in Rio de Janeiro's West Zone. Swimming? No more.

- I've already completed my swimming quota.

Her husband, Fernando Sihman, is her main supporter—but he's also a target within the club. Marcio Braga said Sihman had ties to José Carlos Peruano (the fan who assaulted board member Arthur Muhlemberg—and fan blogger for GLOBOESPORTE.COM—last month, overshadowing the launch of the club's third jersey). Patrícia demanded proof. Opponents say Fernando exerts too much influence over his wife's management—but the main criticism lies elsewhere: Fernando is—or was—a Fluminense fan:

"He was a Tricolor, but when he married me, things got better," says Patrícia. "But if that's the criticism—talking about my husband—it's because I'm fine. I owe him a lot and I'm only here because of him, who is being both a father and a mother. He was in the financial market and gave up a lot; we've reversed some roles."

Fernando says the couple's life has changed, but it's not exactly a role reversal. And he says that, naturally, he helps his wife:

"Maybe I can help with the operational or structural side. But she has enormous leadership skills. She's sensitive and has the ability to relate. Of course, family life has changed, but I've never seen anyone as upbeat as Patrícia. I'm proud to have been married to her since 1994. In fact, if I forget the date... she'll kill me."

With children of the red and black variety, the pressure starts at home. And it's a different kind of pressure—on the mother who stopped being a mother.

"My being here becomes an excuse for a lot of things. The other day, my oldest got a terrible grade and had to retake a year, and it's my fault because I only think about Flamengo? I fight with my husband every day. Flamengo takes over the car ride, at home. I'm having a moment with the vice presidents, he arrives in a different mood, and that turns into an argument. My son participated in the Math Olympiad, and I didn't study with him. I joke that I don't have the resources to have a smart son. I don't because I've never been. These days, I don't follow things as much—but I go to all their school reunions."

As a woman and an executive in a predominantly male world, Patrícia has to deal with prejudice on a daily basis, and with the obvious comparison with another female executive—the country's president, Dilma Rousseff.

"Dilma is more reserved, I'm more cheerful. But when someone steps on my toes... I scare people. I've surprised myself a lot. I keep thinking I'm becoming a bad person. I have patience for difficult times, but things like this happen that really...

Patrícia jumped from the pool to public life in 2000, and as a councilwoman, she has always had Flamengo as her brand and her banner. She was elected by campaigning with the club's fans, and two years ago, she joined forces to defeat the candidates of former presidents like Márcio Braga and Kléber Leite. She won with the promise of governing with high aims, but also with an inward-looking approach.

Therefore, Patrícia's administration has been marked by renovations to the club's infrastructure—projects, of course, that won't interfere with the next election (in December 2012). Patrícia is political and evasive when asked about a second term. But with reforms almost obsessively, it's natural that the reelection platform will strengthen. Patrícia, however, says the changes were inevitable—because she found the club in a sorry state:

- I'll tell you a story that happened on my first or second day in office. A newspaper asked us to take a photo at the highest point of the club, up above the clubhouse. When we got up there on the terrace... there was a guy in his underwear taking a shower. I was startled, but as soon as we arrived, he said, "Please, make yourself comfortable, I'm just taking a shower." He was an employee of an elevator maintenance company. Flamengo hadn't paid the company, so they let the guy live there. He even had a refrigerator in his little house! And he told me, the club president, to make myself comfortable...

This example is just the first in a long list of past "misdeeds" the president has displayed. Such is her concern with demonstrating change that Fla Gávea vice president Cacau Cotta has a PowerPoint presentation with a BEFORE/AFTER picture of Patrícia's administration. The images are striking for their previous neglect—poorly maintained bathrooms, cracks, peeling walls, flooded courts, and so on.

"The difference between what we found and what we see now is huge. We're doing a lot," says Cacau.

"We're doing work on the entire club—a playground for the children, renovations to the stands, a new futsal field, a five-a-side soccer field. Work on the pool, a cafeteria for the employees, salaries paid on time, and bar renovations. And all this with the same budget as before. Why didn't they do it before? I don't know," Patrícia replies.

As a swimmer and councilwoman, Patrícia was already a relatively well-known face. But by sitting in the highest red-and-black chair, she rose to celebrity status. She became an occasional target of paparazzi—and even appeared in the New York Times. Recognition, of course, has two sides:

"It's every day, every hour on the street. But... these days, they're not so friendly. People, regardless of social class, think they're close and come at you like crazy—they even carry carts. But I'm in a good mood, I don't pretend I'm not listening. I just don't go to the supermarket anymore. Last year, a guy jumped in front of me and yelled, "Patricia, go fuck yourself..." I was startled. I thought he was going to punch me. I calmly said, "Come on, come on, stop that!"... and the guy walked away. The only thing I think is important is that I look at you and listen. If you want to say something, I'll listen for hours. But then you'll have to listen to me.

The good side exists, even if it's worth getting a sneaker thrown in your face:

"The fan comes and says, 'You have to get rid of someone, you have to bring Adriano, Vagner Love...'" It always happens. I'd love to bring them, but we don't have the money. I'll give them an explanation. There's also a lot of cool stuff. During halftime between Flamengo and Vasco, I leaned against the railing of the Engenhão box. They started shouting "Patricia, Patricia." I thought, "No way, they're going to curse me." Then a guy looked at me and asked for an autograph. He tied his shirt to a sneaker and threw it. It hit... me in the face! The sneaker hit me in the face! Everyone laughed. And it hurt. But I didn't lose the sporting achievement. I signed it and sent it back.

From Tuesday to Thursday, Patrícia usually arrives at Flamengo at 10:30 a.m. She works until 13:30 p.m., leaves for lunch, and then heads to the City Council in downtown Gávea. When there's a session, she usually returns to Gávea at 18 p.m. Otherwise, she returns earlier—around 16:30 p.m.—and stays at the club until after 21 p.m. On Mondays and Fridays, since there are no city council sessions, she arrives later. And, not infrequently, she leaves Flamengo after 23 p.m. Not to mention on game days.

"Football is very intense. I watch games tensely, I take medication beforehand, my neck gets stiff just to endure it. I think it's terrible. I used to enjoy going to the game. Now, even if you win, it's never over. I have to know what Vanderlei said in the press conference, what the outcome will be. Sometimes, winning, the comfort zone, is worse. Then the story of delayed prize money begins, because they have the platform to speak. In bad times, everyone shuts down. It's very difficult. I cry a lot.

Next to the small coffee cups with the Flamengo crest on her desk, Patrícia handles a thick sheet of paper - so as not to forget what she called the "messes" of the previous administration:

- The first month, when I arrived at the training camp where 30 boys live (at Ninho do Urubu), I left depressed. There was only a field, a locker room, and a weight room. The boys' training camp left me stunned. How could people not be sensitive to that? Everything was full of flies, the refrigerator was rusty, the windows were like a favela, without curtains, and they were hanging things in an old, smelly house. I thought, wow, Flamengo has a ton of licensed products—bed linens, bath towels, cutlery—and there was nothing there. We took two trucks and took the basics to the training camp.

Construction and renovations aside, the Patrícia administration's greatest victory so far has a first and last name: Ronaldo Assis Moreira. Ronaldinho's signing was a game-changer—it put Bruno, the crisis with Zico, and the difficulties of 2010 behind them. So much so that on the president's desk sits a framed photo of Ronaldinho alongside his mother, Dona Miguelina, and Patrícia herself. The president smiles as she recalls the signing:

- In the space of 10 days, we won the São Paulo Junior Cup, Ronaldinho arrived with Thiago Neves and we achieved recognition for the 1987 title. That was an obsession.

But this obsession continues. The CBF soon revoked the red-and-black team's title—at the urging of the courts. Patrícia assures that the story isn't over—and that the political struggle behind the scenes continues:

- I work a lot. I went to Switzerland, I have a photo on the FIFA door, and I put a Flamengo jersey on the letter I. There must be cameras, but no one asked to take them off.

The worst moment of his tenure, on the other hand, occurred alongside Flamengo's greatest idol. After five months as executive director of football, Zico left the club and today says he's distant from Flamengo. Opponents say the idol was mistreated. The week Zico spoke, Patrícia was upset:

"I think Zico saying nothing is good wasn't cool, because his friends are here, and he brought some of them here. That went down really badly. He brought Cantarelle, Jaime was Júnior's recommendation... I'm political, he swears, and I don't take it personally. But I'm not going to change my work because of his swearing. I also want him to get a second opinion."

The director says she didn't speak to Zico after his departure from the club. But she does offer a small gesture: she recalls that on July 29th, the 40th anniversary of the star's affiliation with Flamengo, she made a point of sending him a shirt and an official letter. Zico received the letter—and asked his lawyer to write a thank you note in response. When asked about Patrícia for this article, the Flamengo idol preferred silence. The truth is that the relationship between the two has soured completely.

Rio's football grows
With four teams among the top six in the Brasileirão, Patrícia believes that Rio de Janeiro football is experiencing a different era—one of partnerships between clubs off the field. She says the city government is helping to facilitate the construction of training centers for the other three major clubs.

"We're a bit ahead in this regard because we already have the training center. Fluminense is considering Banana Golf. Vasco wants land in Rio das Pedras, which has to be expropriated. Botafogo was considering Engenhão—now I don't know if that's changed. But the atmosphere between the presidents is very good. I saw Paul McCartney's concert with Maurício (Assumpção, president of Botafogo) and Roberto (Dinamite, president of Vasco) at Engenhão. And it's always awkward in the first five minutes. Roberto won the election and had a game the next day, so I called to congratulate him. He said, "Are you calling for that or just to talk?" I said, "If it works, it was worth the call." It's a very good relationship. I talk to Maurício more. When Peter (Siemsen, president of Fluminense) was a candidate, I told him to stop calling me because he would lose the election. Imagine if he were seen with the president of Flamengo? He's very agitated, preoccupied. I'm more distant from him these days.

Patrícia also says that the only club that didn't advance the installments of its new TV contract was Flamengo—but she admits that advancing them is almost inevitable. The president still has a year and three months left in her term, but she's aiming high.

"We're world champions in rowing, gymnastics, and swimming. But (César) Cielo wasn't trained here, nor was Fabiana (Beltrame, rower). Diego and Daniele (Hypolito) were. And you can already form an association. You bring in these great athletes and start building a new team. I don't want to be champions just in soccer. There... we have to do what Vanderlei says: stay three, four, five years in the Libertadores. Get used to playing like São Paulo did."

The leader isn't calling herself a candidate for reelection—largely because she knows that, in the cauldron of Gávea, it's too early to open up her flanks. She says the only promise she made was to "deliver Flamengo in a better state than I found it." And she believes that promise has already been fulfilled. But other crises will certainly arise by December 31, 2012. At Flamengo, yesterday's joke is today's truth: an occasional fart becomes headline news. Everything is blown out of proportion. Between Obama and Afghanistan, Patrícia Amorim still has 14 months left in her term—and the old chair facing the Lagoa.

"This is where I come, sit, think, cry. I've cried a lot sitting in this chair... with this view. And I've been writing memoirs—a book—I can't let this go. It's not to sell—it's for myself. It's a diary, but it's funny: I only managed to write about last year's problems now, when things got bad again."

There, alone, in her refuge overlooking the landscape, president, executive, councilwoman, and super-mom Patrícia Amorim has a little bit of a girl in her. A girl carrying 35 million dreams.