Arias saga: True idols show attitude, old wounds for Fluminense | OneFootball

Fluminense has always been a club driven by symbols. Idols, leaders, players who represent more than just numbers. But precisely because of this, the debate about what it means to be an idol needs to be taken seriously, and the Jhon Arias case exposes a confusion that the tricolor has insisted on fostering for years.

An idol is not someone who plays well for a period. It's not just someone who lifts a trophy. An idol is someone who understands the weight of the jersey they wear, who respects the club even when they are no longer part of it, who measures words, actions, and decisions. And, most importantly, someone who doesn't sell an emotional speech while making coldly calculated decisions.

Arias was a great player at Fluminense. No one disputes that. He was decisive, a protagonist, shone in historic moments, and performed at a world-class level in the Super Club World Cup. But idolatry is not sustained by performance alone. It requires coherence.

And that's precisely where everything falls apart.

In his farewell to Fluminense, Arias publicly stated that if he returned to Brazil, he would only play for Fluminense. No one put a gun to his head. It wasn't a crossed response, it wasn't a forced statement. It was a conscious, direct, emotional declaration made for the fans. Six months later, he signs with Palmeiras.

It's not the money itself that is upsetting. Football is a market, players are professionals. The problem is the false discourse, the empty promise, the attempt to maintain an image while the plan was already laid out.

Because the plan always existed.

Since 2024, Arias had already made clear his desire to leave. He forced his exit at delicate moments, even when Fluminense was fighting against relegation. The club, nevertheless, renewed his contract and sold the renewal as "the biggest reinforcement of the season." A discourse that helped sustain the environment at that moment, although today it reveals how fragile the relationship between discourse and planning turned out to be.

In practice, the renewal already included a clause that allowed for immediate sale if a "good proposal" from Europe came up. And that proposal was 17 million euros to play for Wolverhampton, a lower-tier Premier League club, now relegated, where Arias stayed for six months.

That was the so-called European dream.

Fluminense became a stepping stone. It provided exposure, a World Cup, international projection. Arias went, played little, saw the sporting risk grow, his salary cut in half, and the World Cup threatened. Then, when the project was no longer comfortable, he returned. But he didn't return to those who projected him. He returned to those who paid more.

Palmeiras shelled out 25 million euros. Fluminense reached 20 million, stretching the rope to the limit of financial planning. Going beyond would mean compromising the budget, cash flow, and the entire season. And even if they matched it, they would have to cover installment payments. The so-called priority clause? Useless against those swimming in money. It served no purpose.

And here comes another fundamental debate, Fluminense did the right thing by not entering this auction.

In 2025, the club experienced one of the worst recent years in terms of center-forwards. In 2026, John Kennedy started well, it's true, but the squad still lacks a reliable goal scorer and a high-level defender. Investing 20 million euros in a player who had already shown a willingness to leave, who didn't offer emotional or sporting security, would be repeating old mistakes.

Modern football demands planning, not nostalgia.

And the contrast with Nino makes this even clearer. Nino left, was captain of the Libertadores, never promised to return, never used cheap emotional discourse. He was always transparent. Today, in talks with Fluminense for mid-year, he represents exactly what is expected of an idol, respect for the club, the fans, and his own history.

Arias' story inevitably reminds us of the Pedro case, but each within their own measure. Fluminense, on that occasion, denied the sale to Flamengo, negotiated the center-forward with Europe, and a few months later saw the player return directly to the biggest rival, without even having had space or sequence outside the country. In Arias' case, there are important nuances, he had time, played, appeared, and still decided to return. There was even a proposal from Flamengo in the range of 22 million euros, with payment in just two installments, a clear picture of the purchasing power in Brazilian football, which Wolverhampton signaled to accept, but which was rejected by the player himself, who said he didn't want to play for Fluminense's biggest rival. Here, Arias was more of a man than Pedro. Still, the final choice was to return to Brazil for another club that today is indeed a rival of Fluminense. Not on the same historical shelf as Flamengo, but a direct adversary, with recent confrontations, tough disputes, and antagonistic projects. The path changes shape, but the outcome is similar, Fluminense once again sees a former protagonist take the long way around to, in the end, reappear on the other side of the counter.

It's not about hate. It's about maturity. Idolatry is not automatic, it's not eternal, and it doesn't survive inconsistency. Fluminense needs to learn to stop romanticizing players who have always made it clear that the dream was never the club.

And the fans, in turn, need to understand, loving Fluminense is different from loving those who pass through it. True idols don't need to promise anything. They simply don't betray what they represent.

Arias made his choice. Fluminense, rightly, made its own by not compromising the future for someone who had already left, even before leaving.

And may this story serve as a lesson. Because the jersey carries weight. Words carry weight. And an idol, when they are true, knows that.

This article was translated into English by Artificial Intelligence. You can read the original version in 🇧🇷 here.