So I've been trying to find or organize a soccer game for the past couple weeks. This is not exactly an easy task here in Mumbai. First off, I wasn't too sure if Indians even like soccer. There really, and sadly, is only one sport here; cricket. It epitomizes the Indian mind set so well in the general slow nature of the game, lack of real physical exertion, and ability for fans to lounge around with bits of excitement strewn in between.
On top of this, as you can maybe imagine at this point, is the difficulty of finding anything that resembles a field. There are a few "pitches" nearby, but I use this term loosely. What we're really looking at are small open spaces of dirt and mud loosely spotted with tufts of grass that can span from a mere centimeter to knee high. Additionally, gaining access to some of these can be a precarious task as who actually manages them is very questionable, and finding said person is sometimes more difficult.
Then to really top it off is the continual excuse of "oh, it's monsoon, probably not worth going out for a game." The ease which this reasoning rolls off everyone's tongue here has even permeated into my vocabulary, but this time I wasn't going to let it impede me.
So I managed to finagle my way into a weekly game that a few expats and one India guy started up. My expectations were low, both in terms of competition and general enjoyment when dealing with the physical elements here: heat, dirt, mud, etc. Yet, it was a chance to finally play, so of course I jumped in.
Again, in true Indian fashion, there was no real scheduling or timing involved, it was just mentioned to show up at one of the local schools on Saturday at 5:30. Since it was basically a pick-up game, I didn't really know how we were organizing teams, or generally who was involved. I only knew two of the expats, but when we showed up it appeared hardly anybody new each so it was perfectly fine. The surface was much the same as everywhere else, except we did have a full field and full size goals. This certainly made up for the lack of grass and levelness.
Since there were about 8 of us, I didn't really know how we were splitting up to play a full field game. Yet, slowly, out of the woodworks sprouted small groups of Indian guys (some just boys), proudly sporting their favorite club team jerseys; all of which were knock-offs with the likes of "Messy" not "Messi" written on the back. I knew then that it would be a good time, especially because several of the guys started passing and running around without shoes. Just as a side note, the overall maintenance of the field was obviously lacking, but even despite some stones and twigs I noticed one guy pick up a hand rake in the middle of the field and throw it to the side, almost as if it were a common routine like taking out the trash or hanging your towel up to dry.
Anyway, the confidence to sport no laces meant that these Indian guys were probably pretty good. At first I thought we might mix and match the teams, but apparently the Indians were some sort of local team, and they wanted to take on the big white (one black) expats together. That was essentially our downfall, as I quickly noticed the age, physique, and sporting attire of our side was in no way ready to keep up with the locals. The term "beggars can't be choosers" really rings true here, and so when I saw our would be right back warming up with a few hazardous looking leg swings and a runner's gait that resembled a duck dodging landmines (potholes in this case) all the while sporting glasses and a thick polo shirt, I knew our chances were doomed.
In the long run, that was certainly the case. However, it was great playing and the Indian guys got a kick out of dancing around us with the ball. Most of the time I was a bit confused on who was playing as there were streams of kids running in and out and passing a ball over and around our game. One little guy had the courage to ask me if he could join our team, so of course I let him run around aimlessly swinging at the ball 50 yards away as only kids can do.
One thing I did learn was that home field advantage is an understatement here. I often found myself tiptoeing holes and bumps in the ground all the while trying to manage a ball that bounced every which way over the uneven, hard surface. One time I was running down the left side hoping to cross the ball in the middle. In my mind I was thinking I need to play it a bit soft, as the ball had been flying across the hard dirt. Yet, right as I was about to kick, the ball rolled into a tuft of knee high grass/weeds and I only managed to move it a meager 10 yards. So that was embarrassing, but generally speaking losing about 10-1 is not good for morale either.
Everyone had a great time, even the Indian death squad that took care of us, so I think we're planning on a weekly match. A few of us expats limped home as clearly none of us were in any sort of running shape and were completely drenched in sweat from the heat. We grabbed a few beers at a friends place close by, ordered pizza, and turned some actual soccer on t.v. in a guise to justify our loss by boasting of all our soccer knowledge.
I'll be back for next week's match, regardless of the expectation that we will be beaten terribly.
On top of this, as you can maybe imagine at this point, is the difficulty of finding anything that resembles a field. There are a few "pitches" nearby, but I use this term loosely. What we're really looking at are small open spaces of dirt and mud loosely spotted with tufts of grass that can span from a mere centimeter to knee high. Additionally, gaining access to some of these can be a precarious task as who actually manages them is very questionable, and finding said person is sometimes more difficult.
Then to really top it off is the continual excuse of "oh, it's monsoon, probably not worth going out for a game." The ease which this reasoning rolls off everyone's tongue here has even permeated into my vocabulary, but this time I wasn't going to let it impede me.
So I managed to finagle my way into a weekly game that a few expats and one India guy started up. My expectations were low, both in terms of competition and general enjoyment when dealing with the physical elements here: heat, dirt, mud, etc. Yet, it was a chance to finally play, so of course I jumped in.
Again, in true Indian fashion, there was no real scheduling or timing involved, it was just mentioned to show up at one of the local schools on Saturday at 5:30. Since it was basically a pick-up game, I didn't really know how we were organizing teams, or generally who was involved. I only knew two of the expats, but when we showed up it appeared hardly anybody new each so it was perfectly fine. The surface was much the same as everywhere else, except we did have a full field and full size goals. This certainly made up for the lack of grass and levelness.
Since there were about 8 of us, I didn't really know how we were splitting up to play a full field game. Yet, slowly, out of the woodworks sprouted small groups of Indian guys (some just boys), proudly sporting their favorite club team jerseys; all of which were knock-offs with the likes of "Messy" not "Messi" written on the back. I knew then that it would be a good time, especially because several of the guys started passing and running around without shoes. Just as a side note, the overall maintenance of the field was obviously lacking, but even despite some stones and twigs I noticed one guy pick up a hand rake in the middle of the field and throw it to the side, almost as if it were a common routine like taking out the trash or hanging your towel up to dry.
Anyway, the confidence to sport no laces meant that these Indian guys were probably pretty good. At first I thought we might mix and match the teams, but apparently the Indians were some sort of local team, and they wanted to take on the big white (one black) expats together. That was essentially our downfall, as I quickly noticed the age, physique, and sporting attire of our side was in no way ready to keep up with the locals. The term "beggars can't be choosers" really rings true here, and so when I saw our would be right back warming up with a few hazardous looking leg swings and a runner's gait that resembled a duck dodging landmines (potholes in this case) all the while sporting glasses and a thick polo shirt, I knew our chances were doomed.
In the long run, that was certainly the case. However, it was great playing and the Indian guys got a kick out of dancing around us with the ball. Most of the time I was a bit confused on who was playing as there were streams of kids running in and out and passing a ball over and around our game. One little guy had the courage to ask me if he could join our team, so of course I let him run around aimlessly swinging at the ball 50 yards away as only kids can do.
One thing I did learn was that home field advantage is an understatement here. I often found myself tiptoeing holes and bumps in the ground all the while trying to manage a ball that bounced every which way over the uneven, hard surface. One time I was running down the left side hoping to cross the ball in the middle. In my mind I was thinking I need to play it a bit soft, as the ball had been flying across the hard dirt. Yet, right as I was about to kick, the ball rolled into a tuft of knee high grass/weeds and I only managed to move it a meager 10 yards. So that was embarrassing, but generally speaking losing about 10-1 is not good for morale either.
Everyone had a great time, even the Indian death squad that took care of us, so I think we're planning on a weekly match. A few of us expats limped home as clearly none of us were in any sort of running shape and were completely drenched in sweat from the heat. We grabbed a few beers at a friends place close by, ordered pizza, and turned some actual soccer on t.v. in a guise to justify our loss by boasting of all our soccer knowledge.
I'll be back for next week's match, regardless of the expectation that we will be beaten terribly.
No comments:
Post a Comment