Major Minority
Opressive heat the past few days. A/C units humming their mechanized tunes day n night. Played some early pick up soccer yesterday with "the Albanians" to avoid mid-day heatstroke. The venue was Stamford High School which has a sweet turf field that's forgiving on aging knees.
My friend, Mark, often talks about the Albanians and how "they're like dogs, barking at you all the time." He warns me that if I bark back, it'll quickly turn into a scrap, and they'll gang up on me. He says, "I don't know how much I can help you, Greg. There are too many."
This was a gross exaggeration on Mark's part. They were actually a friendly bunch.
The Albanians take the field at 9am and play until 11am. That's when they relinquish the field to the Brazilians. This is an unoffical tradition at Stamford High School. The field is public, but soccer's subcultures rule it at specific times Sunday mornings.
Albanians aren't the only ones to show up, though. They just happen to be the majority of the players at 9am. A few Mexicans, Africans, and Russians also bring their boots, ready to play.
When the teams divide, it's the Albanians versus the rest of the world.
I have to admit, I had to Wikipedia Albania. I had no clue where it was. Near France? Maybe in Africa? For my geographically-challenged readers, it's on the Adriatic Sea just west of Greece, Macedonia, and Serbia. The country is an emerging democracy and they speak Albanian. I found nothing else interesting to write about it.
Our goalkeeper was a fat Mexican whose real name was Ricardo. But everyone there called him "Two-ffon" because was a much heavier version of the great Itailian goalkeeper Gigi Buffon.
I joined two other pudgy Mexicans in midfield. One liked to call himself "Messi" after the great Argentinian player Lionel Messi. He played nothing like his namesake. The other simply answered to "Alex" and he was a pretty good player.
We had a Colombian and a Lithuanian at the back. A unidentified South American up front with one of the Albanians (who generously decided to play with us to make the sides even).
I was the only American out there, the most major minority that morning. But it didn't matter a bit once the ball started rolling. I got the chance to create with people I would otherwise never meet. That's why I am grateful for this sport.
GM
My friend, Mark, often talks about the Albanians and how "they're like dogs, barking at you all the time." He warns me that if I bark back, it'll quickly turn into a scrap, and they'll gang up on me. He says, "I don't know how much I can help you, Greg. There are too many."
This was a gross exaggeration on Mark's part. They were actually a friendly bunch.
The Albanians take the field at 9am and play until 11am. That's when they relinquish the field to the Brazilians. This is an unoffical tradition at Stamford High School. The field is public, but soccer's subcultures rule it at specific times Sunday mornings.
Albanians aren't the only ones to show up, though. They just happen to be the majority of the players at 9am. A few Mexicans, Africans, and Russians also bring their boots, ready to play.
When the teams divide, it's the Albanians versus the rest of the world.
I have to admit, I had to Wikipedia Albania. I had no clue where it was. Near France? Maybe in Africa? For my geographically-challenged readers, it's on the Adriatic Sea just west of Greece, Macedonia, and Serbia. The country is an emerging democracy and they speak Albanian. I found nothing else interesting to write about it.
Our goalkeeper was a fat Mexican whose real name was Ricardo. But everyone there called him "Two-ffon" because was a much heavier version of the great Itailian goalkeeper Gigi Buffon.
I joined two other pudgy Mexicans in midfield. One liked to call himself "Messi" after the great Argentinian player Lionel Messi. He played nothing like his namesake. The other simply answered to "Alex" and he was a pretty good player.
We had a Colombian and a Lithuanian at the back. A unidentified South American up front with one of the Albanians (who generously decided to play with us to make the sides even).
I was the only American out there, the most major minority that morning. But it didn't matter a bit once the ball started rolling. I got the chance to create with people I would otherwise never meet. That's why I am grateful for this sport.
GM
posted by Greg Monaco at 7:19 AM
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