Sweetness!

Last Thursday Anah and I went to a fundraiser for the EIS pre-school. Normally such high-fluting event are not our scene, but it didn't cost that much and we were told there would be food and booze. Count us in.

Social butterflies we are.

The fundraiser was the second year the pre-school had held an auction to raise money for new playground equipment. Various parents put up goods for sale and teachers also auctioned off various services like swim lessons, cooking classes, overnight babysitting, and slumber parties at the school. A creative event.

Attendance was sparse. There are not a ton of kids in the pre-school so the community of support is relatively small, but that would play to our advantage. To my surprise there were a number of soccer-related prizes I quickly found out were up for grabs (besides the soccer camp for me and 10 friends, of course).

In the far corner of the hotel ballroom (big-time scene, people) was what was listed as the "Honduras #1 Fan" package. While I didn't think I'd even qualify to be in the top 1 million for Honduras fans I was none-the-less interested in acquiring this soccer souvenir. The fan pack consisted of a Honduras flag, ball, horn, hat, and the crem-de-la-crem... a national team jersey signed by the entire team. Danny wanty.

Going up against the moneyed elite of the school was going to be a daunting task. Luckily the first phase of the auction night was a "silent" auction, which was a bit ironic given that all of the bids were public and right in front of the items. Needless to say (I think I write that a lot and then proceed to say something... no?) I camped out by the prize pack.

With five minutes to go in the silent auction the low attendance was playing out in my favor. I had the top bid without breaking the bank when another Gringo scrawled his name on the bid sheet. I quick tagged my name another time only for the other gentleman to scribble another bid. I knew if I went higher I would certainly be outbid or, if I did win, would be in trouble for the amount I wrote.

I decided to channel my inner-Mitchell Wiersema, FedEx Global Sales Executive, and negotiate. A brief conversation convened where I was to learn the gent was not that big of a soccer fan, but his wife was pushing to buy loads of stuff (and they would throughout the night). With seconds left in the auction I convinced him to not bid anymore and in another moment of quick thinking offered him another, autograph-less jersey I was winning in exchange for withdrawing his top bid, saving me dozens of dollars in prize package costs. The night was mine!

Victory is mine!

I was now the proud owner of a bunch of Honduras junk, but one, precious autographed national team jersey. Without a doubt I wore that to school the next day and was the envy of many students.


- Dan

Big Wins For Honduras and the U.S.

I'll post some photos from the Honduras - Mexico game that I went to last night, but first I wanted to post the highlights of the game and also the U.S. game.

Both posted historic wins last night, U.S. more expected (still a nice rebound after the 2-2 shock draw with El Salvador, but showcased a hat trick (3 goals) from young superstar Jozy Altidore. Honduras, on the other hand, was phenomenal last night playing out of their minds against rivals Mexico, posting a 3-1 win.

Honduras - Mexico:



U.S. - Trinidad and Tobago:

Exciting School Visitors (click here to comment)

Nice view.

This week one of Honduras' biggest soccer teams visited my middle schoolers. Marathon is one of the two major teams in San Pedro Sula, one of the "big four" teams in the country, and the current Honduran League Champions. Following up on a campaign pledge from the middle school student council president, the team came on Thursday to play some of the students in a scrimmage and sign autographs for others.

While not exactly the same in size and scope, it was roughly the equivalent of the Pittsburgh Steelers coming to visit your local middle school. Students in the U.S. probably wouldn't bat an eye at the Major League Soccer champions coming to your school, much as the American football champions wouldn't get anyone's heart racing down here (except for maybe Jesse, who Steeler's quarterback Ben Roethlisberger is his doppelganger)

I was absolutely floored that a REAL soccer team was coming to our school. Some of the kids complained that "Marathon had already come here before" or "Marathon sucks." These criticisms coming from bitter fans of the other major Honduran teams. Given my ongoing obsession with documenting Honduran soccer there were no objections to being so close that I could get a good nostril shot of a professional soccer player.

The game was a wash. To begin with Marathon lined up against the middle schoolers head-to-head. The Honduran league champions were quickly up a half dozen goals before it was decided that maybe the teams should be mixed.

The originally line-ups were tossed out the window, along with any requirements for clothing and/or skill. As the match progressed different students took the places of the actual middle school team who most took to the field in blue jeans and lack of balance against their Honduran soccer heroes.

The local TV stations and newspapers were all there covering the event, making the day seem all the more important. The head coach was interviewed on TV, the team's president (and uncle of one of my students) made an appearance, and players were flocked to by autograph seeking students. One player, Franco, was declared the cutest by an otherwise indifferent group of girls and hunted down for photos and autographs on their arms like he was a Jonas Brother (an extremely popular, but musically talentless, pair of singers).

Despite the loss of two periods of instruction it was a pretty cool event to witness. Students are already planning how to lure the other popular teams to our school, a suggestion I laughed off forgettting for a moment the power that their parents wield. Hopefully, I'll have another soccer team to show off soon.

- Dan

Picasa Gallery of Marathon's visit here.

"I'm sorry... what did you say?" (click here to comment)

I'm sure that most of you are tiring of my blog posts about playing soccer, but outside of school and traveling, I have very few options. Last week I wrote I had played soccer and well enough to get an invite back for this Sunday.

Today I headed down to the field to play a little futbolito, which is an indoor soccer field outside. It had been raining on and off today (what a surprise because this is pretty much the forecast everyday) and so playing on the field was like facing off on a dish sponge. Interesting, I know.

While my Spanish is improving, it is still absolutely piss poor, especially compared to my lovely wife's language skills, but the most important thing is that I keep trying. Between the taxi driver yesterday and this new group of soccer players I was about at the end of my rope for Spanish speaking.

The toughest part is that my listening skills are so poor (in English too) that I have a hard time understand what other people are saying. I can speak at about a first grade Spanish level so people can at least get an idea what I'm talking about. Some times I hear something that makes sense, other times I'm totally lost.

There's one player I've been talking to today, his name is Wilson (which I find very odd for a Honduran), and we're having a very basic Spanish conversation.

Wilson: "Hello, how are you?"
Me: "Good. How are you?"
Wilson: "Are you ready to play?
Me (This time trying to make a joke... very bad idea in Spanish): "Yes, I'm just watching the game of the grandpas."

You see on the field next to us is a full 11 v 11 game of men, the youngest that might be 50. The goalie keeper is about 65 and in between waddling to make saves (which he does several times) he's yelling at his friends behind the goal that are giving him crap for said saves.

Wilson (in Spanish, remember): Oh, ha ha. Yes, these are the veteran's games. The players are all ex-professional players in Honduras.
Me: Wow. (that's seriously cool)
Wilson: Hey, what are you doing next weekend? We (all of the other players) are going to ____________ (some place I don't recognize) for the pools, soccer fields, and _________ with our families.

At this point I'm not sure if I've been invited somewhere, but I'm sort of confused. Why are they not just playing soccer at this field next Sunday?

Me: Wait (in English.. shit he doesn't speak English! Now back to bad Spanish). In San Pedro Sula? Where? What are you doing?
Wilson: We are all going to a nice place with pools and to play soccer. Do you want to go?
Me: So you're not playing here next Sunday?
Wilson: No. All of us (he points to all the guys I played with last week and will this week) are members of Alcoholics Anonymous and we are going away next weekend.
Me: I'm sorry... what?

Holy crap... yeah I happen to stumble upon a group of guys who play soccer together as an activity to avoid drinking. Not just drinking "like hey... we drink too much we should also be active," but like "we have been told we are a stain on society and need to get it together" kind of drinking.

This is an interesting development. Wilson tells me (or at least what I've translated) that drinking has caused "muchas problemas" in his life and that they all have been sober for a long time. I state that alcoholism is a very big problem in Honduras (I read that in a book) and he agrees.

I manage to tell him that his weekend retreat sounds nice, but I am a teacher and have much work to do next weekend. But that next Sunday I would love to play when they all come back.

After the game, Wilson sticks around after the other players leave and he and I have another painful conversation in Spanish. It was nice. He bought himself, me, and his fourth grade son Cokes and we sat and I made general observations (you see I can't speak in the past tense in Spanish so every thing has to be happening in the here and now otherwise I can't communicate it). I say I like only soccer and not American football, he tells me about a player on the field in front of us that used to be a professional, but he drank too much and did many "drogas." Hmm.

I said my good byes and reminded myself never to invite the boys out for post game beers.

Going For A Walk (click here to comment)

I'm not sure how many people care about this (and probably heard/read about this a million times), but living in a soccer-loving nation is great.

Back in Milwaukee it was extremely difficult to get any soccer games under my belt. Sure, I played indoor once a week, but if I ever wanted to find a pick up game or get any practice in for said indoor games... sorry no dice. Made doubly painful was the fact that I couldn't just go to any nearby field (there were plenty of those) and practice by myself. Being a goalie doesn't allow oneself the luxury of practicing alone (you kinda need someone to shoot on you).

Early yesterday afternoon, Anah and I returned from Lago de Yajoa (more on this in another post). I certainly was in no mood to begin any school-related work (I save that for the last minute!) and was bored just channel surfing.

I decided that I needed to find some action. I threw my cleats and goalie gloves into a bag and grabbed my soccer ball.

I was going on a soccer-walk.

Like I said before, our place in Milwaukee didn't lack convenient nearby fields, it just lacked the bodies to field a full game. Within a 1/2 mile radius of our apartment in San Pedro I have four futbolito (indoor/outdoor small fields) fields and at least three full-sized fields.

Two of the fields were occupied by Sunday league games and you can't just walk onto one of those. But the other full field was a pick up game. Using exaggerated hand gestures and broken Spanish ("I am goalie. Can I play?") I managed to get in a game.

One of the great things about being a "portero" is that pick up games normally don't have someone that plays the position so the field player stuck in goal will gladly allow you to stand between the sticks.

The tough part is earning your keep. Playing keeper is a sink or swim sort of situation. You play well and you earn your keep; play poorly and leave with your tail between your legs (and the extra embarrassment as the 'gringo' who tried to run with the Hondurans).

It didn't start out well. Not a minute in one of my defenders gave up a hand ball and the subsequent free kick ricocheted off another defender and into the back of the goal. Not my fault really, but it certainly raises the tide on the whole sink/swim situation.

Luckily it was an aberration and the rest of the game I had much better luck. Add into the equation a torrential downpour and it was totally awesome. I had earned my keep and earned an invitation to return and play next Sunday.

I returned covered in mud and soaked to the bone, but the smile on my face certainly erased any frustration that Anah might of had with the mess I brought home.