Wins for the Home Side

Sunday started, as usual, with the trek up-town to watch the youth team play at Club Mariscal Estigarribia (I have finally learned the name of the park/club that I have been practicing at since my first week). I got up early and was on a bus by 6:20am to arrive at the field before the 7:00am scheduled start. This weeks opponent was relatively weak. They looked positively tiny next to our sides players, some of whom probably shave more regularly than I do, despite being “16.” Paulo, the goalkeeper, actually showed up for this game, despite having been absent for a week straight. Mariscal E. won 3-1, their first victory of the season, the players suitably joyful as they at their post-game empanadas and watched the younger kids play.

I decided, for the first time, to stay the whole day instead of leaving immediately to go watch Defensores play. The Peruvians were already out of the running for the elimination tournament and it seemed unlikely that they would put forth much of an effort, despite the fact that they were facing another Peruvian team (rivalries in the tournament are undoubtedly within, rather than between, countries). So I stayed at Mariscal and watched 4 more matches, starting with the under 8’s and working up to the under 13’s.

The little kids, needless to say, already have more foot-skill than I will probably ever have and weave through and around each other impressively. But they play on the full-size field and, technique not-withstanding, they are still kids. It would probably take the fastest of them 30 seconds to dribble the length of the field, even without swarms of other 8-year-olds kicking, stomping, and sliding in their path. So the games are slow and rarely display more than one goal. But that does not keep the kids and their parents from taking things extremely seriously. I have amassed a sizeable vulgar vocabulary, in both Guarani and Spanish, simply by listening to Norma, a club member and soccer mom, as she encourages (and curses) her son and his teammates. An extremely polite and helpful person in non-fan contexts, Norma turns into a font of profanity each time a 3-foot-tall forward mis-fires or a snot-nosed keeper fails to hold on to a soft shot.

Mariscal did well on the day, winning 3 and tying 1 of its matches. Afterwards, the club parents sold chicken and “rice salad” (which consisted of white rice sprinkled with basil and lathered with butter) to raise money. I bought myself and plate and sat on a bench to eat and show the day’s pictures to a multi-aged group of players and parents.