Friday, February 15, 2008

peter crouch, chilean futbol

the sun glowed a deep red off the chilean andes. layne, emily and i shared a meal together with our new chilean family, luis, arleyi and their son, pablo. jorge, our contact, was there as well. we learned a little of vida here in chile and the life of the church we would be staying in. rancagua is a poor neighborhood, distinct with massive, worn red and blue apartment buildings. our interactions were met with some first date jitters. jorge concluded our meal with and much to my surprise, ¨ok, sean and i will go play soccer now¨.

luis, layne and i strolled through the dimly lit streets to meet jorge at the soccer field with all the young life kids. youth were lined along the fences of their homes. shadows walking to and fro with no destination. a broken and rusted chain linked fence guarded the cement basketball court where we would play futbol. kids luaghed in their warm summer night like the ones i so fondly remember.

jorge introduced me as a former member of manchester united and a teammate and good friend of david beckham. i think that my new teammates still were skeptical about my soccer aptitude. their worries soon became realities. my headers sent the ball everywhere except near the goal. i would like to believe there were fans cheering for me, but it was more like a chorus of laughter. in between games, i would sit with gustavo. he wore a blue soccer jersey and has big brown eyes. he was the only person willing to tell me about my lack of soccer skill or how i had most recently made him laugh.

i persisted nonetheless. i was passed the ball in the midfield. i turned kickly, took a step and the with a quick strike, the boal soared into the upper right hand corner or the net. my first goal! gustavo jumped to his feet and i celebrated with my teammates.

¨peter! peter!¨ they cheered. i was a good foot taller than all my opponents and soon nicknamed after the gangly, 6'7 english striker, peter crouch. i was a feared english striker now. ¨mira, peter!" for the night beneath the chilean stars, i was a foreigner with a place in this poor community. i should probably wear a red english shirt tonight as i return for another night of starlit soccer with the chilean youth.