We had our first practice with the Granada girls team yesterday…sort of. We arrived right at 3 o’clock with our usual entourage of Chepe and our neighbors, to an empty field of dust, dirt, and enormous lava rocks. Waiting for the girls to arrive, we pulled out a ball and began to teach the boys to play MUFF, which was no small task considering that Elise wasn’t at practice to translate. Chepe was the first to fall, and everyone loved shooting balls at his butt as he laughed and taunted us with words unknown. Within twenty minutes we had quite the audience, some peeking out from behind distant bushes, others looming around our circle hesitant to jump in. Molly lost the second round and accepted her fate, as the group by then had grown to double digits. Cecelia was the first of the girls to arrive and also became the first to hit Molly squarely in the butt.
A total of four girls showed up for practice, out of a team of sixteen, and one without shoes. The shoeless girl was quite the trooper and probably would’ve lasted the whole practice, but we figured she was better off wearing Molly’s sneakers for the time being. After some ball work wherein we learned that the girls refuse to let the ball hit them in the chest, we taught them another timeless American game that requires few words of explanation: Head/Catch. Molly and I excelled at this particular game since we didn’t know the words for head and catch in the first place…no one seemed to realize our distinct advantage. After a few rounds, we split into 3v3 teams. By now it seemed like the whole neighborhood was mingling around and on the field, including a woman on a bicycle who decided to park in front of one of our 3v3 goals, and a small child that sat down in front of the other. Molly’s team won 5 to 4 and demanded 10 push-ups for our loss. As I hit the ground to pay for my incompetence, my teammates pointed and laughed at me.
Finishing the afternoon with some shooting, Cecilia ended practice with a rocketed “power” shot just under the crossbar and a smooth “finesse” full-volley into the corner. Saturday the girls have another Futsalla game, which gives us another 24 hours to come up with culturally-appropriate cheers.
Later that evening we met at Milton’s house for a meeting with all the local men’s coaches. After introducing us, we discussed the potential of a coaches’ clinic during the second week of March. The men were very interested, but concerned about the amount of time they could dedicate given their work schedules. In the end, 11 men committed to attending 5 hours of coaches training led by women...I was surprised and impressed! Afterwards the guys discussed league issues. They were debating intently for about 10 minutes before Elise finally turned to us and said "Every game the home team is required to provide a ball. Each team is given a ball at the beginning of the season, and one of the balls popped. The team doesn't have money for a new ball and thinks that since they didn't lose the ball, it just popped (probably on a huge rock in the middle of the field) the league should give them a new one."
Molly and I were completely shocked that this was the discussion of the last ten minutes. While full plates of food cost less than two dollars, a decent ball here cost $25, an amount that none of the teams can afford. The players pay 5 cordobas (about 25 cents) to compete in the league, the coaches are unpaid, many don't have uniforms or cleats, and balls are virtually non-existent. By the end of the meeting we found out that four teams didn't have even a single ball, and we offered each of them a new game ball. By the end of our time here, we will give out many more, hopefully to new girls teams that we would like to form! At the end of the meeting we got a round of applause from the men. We soon realized they were applauding because Chepe told them we'd be playing in the men's league games with him on his team. It's gonna take a lot more than 20 minute jogs and a couple of pick-up games to get ourselves ready for that!
If the tin rooves and lack of hot water didn't put things in perspective, having a girl show up to practice shoeless but willing to play, and witnessing a lengthy debate over a single precious ball surely did the trick.
A total of four girls showed up for practice, out of a team of sixteen, and one without shoes. The shoeless girl was quite the trooper and probably would’ve lasted the whole practice, but we figured she was better off wearing Molly’s sneakers for the time being. After some ball work wherein we learned that the girls refuse to let the ball hit them in the chest, we taught them another timeless American game that requires few words of explanation: Head/Catch. Molly and I excelled at this particular game since we didn’t know the words for head and catch in the first place…no one seemed to realize our distinct advantage. After a few rounds, we split into 3v3 teams. By now it seemed like the whole neighborhood was mingling around and on the field, including a woman on a bicycle who decided to park in front of one of our 3v3 goals, and a small child that sat down in front of the other. Molly’s team won 5 to 4 and demanded 10 push-ups for our loss. As I hit the ground to pay for my incompetence, my teammates pointed and laughed at me.
Finishing the afternoon with some shooting, Cecilia ended practice with a rocketed “power” shot just under the crossbar and a smooth “finesse” full-volley into the corner. Saturday the girls have another Futsalla game, which gives us another 24 hours to come up with culturally-appropriate cheers.
Later that evening we met at Milton’s house for a meeting with all the local men’s coaches. After introducing us, we discussed the potential of a coaches’ clinic during the second week of March. The men were very interested, but concerned about the amount of time they could dedicate given their work schedules. In the end, 11 men committed to attending 5 hours of coaches training led by women...I was surprised and impressed! Afterwards the guys discussed league issues. They were debating intently for about 10 minutes before Elise finally turned to us and said "Every game the home team is required to provide a ball. Each team is given a ball at the beginning of the season, and one of the balls popped. The team doesn't have money for a new ball and thinks that since they didn't lose the ball, it just popped (probably on a huge rock in the middle of the field) the league should give them a new one."
Molly and I were completely shocked that this was the discussion of the last ten minutes. While full plates of food cost less than two dollars, a decent ball here cost $25, an amount that none of the teams can afford. The players pay 5 cordobas (about 25 cents) to compete in the league, the coaches are unpaid, many don't have uniforms or cleats, and balls are virtually non-existent. By the end of the meeting we found out that four teams didn't have even a single ball, and we offered each of them a new game ball. By the end of our time here, we will give out many more, hopefully to new girls teams that we would like to form! At the end of the meeting we got a round of applause from the men. We soon realized they were applauding because Chepe told them we'd be playing in the men's league games with him on his team. It's gonna take a lot more than 20 minute jogs and a couple of pick-up games to get ourselves ready for that!
If the tin rooves and lack of hot water didn't put things in perspective, having a girl show up to practice shoeless but willing to play, and witnessing a lengthy debate over a single precious ball surely did the trick.
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