Soccer Shenanigans

                Since moving to our new location, Mel and I have been developing our friendship with the dorm ministry where our friend Kal lives, which is just up the road. He is very happy to be able to walk to our place now (before he had to ride a bicycle a couple of miles through some pretty bad traffic to get to us). For me in particular, it’s been a joy to get to know Kal’s college friends at the boys’ dorm. I have very fond memories of the brothers I had in those years at university, and while university life in Phnom Penh is considerably different from the average American experience, it is easy to see that Kal and his cohorts have developed a similar kind of brotherhood.

                Last week, Kal invited me to come play soccer with him and his friends. Now let me set the record straight: our first year, I went to play soccer with a group of guys almost every week. Kal joined in on that from time to time. But that was a year ago. Since then (to my awakening chagrin), I’ve not really done much exercise other than climbing staircases.

                In an effort to build relationships with Kal and his friends, I decided to join them this afternoon. An hour of pick-up? I can handle that. There’s little space for play in the city and with traffic and the busyness of life I assumed that soccer with the guys was no big deal. Nobody's that into it.

                Big whoops.

                When I arrived at Kal’s dorm, the first sign of trouble was that most everyone was wearing cleats, shin guards, and uniforms. Bright orange NIKE outfits with big white numbers.

                Kal hopped on the back of my moto and said, “Let’s go.” I thought we were just heading down the road a bit. Instead, we coursed through narrow alleys and wide, dusty streets until we passed the outer belt of the city and began to enter the countryside. A short while later, we came to the Royal University of Agriculture, a lush campus located on the southern outskirts of Phnom Penh.

                We bounded down a few pothole-ridden lanes and finally turned a corner to see a full-size soccer field nestled into the RUA campus. I don’t know how to stress the importance of that. I’ve played on a number of fields in Phnom Penh. They’ve never been full-size. Not even close.

                While this was actually quite exciting to me, at the same time reality began to set in, as a few referees showed up and someone tossed me a uniform. Now I wasn't sure what kind of commitment I had stated when I said, “Sure, I can play today.”

                I soon learned that we were going to be playing what appeared to be every bit of a regulation match: 11v11, two 45-minute halves, rules about being offside or out of bounds (“Wait, you guys actually play with rules?”), and an opposing team from another university on the other side of the field—led by the Rector of the school himself.

                Let me stress again that I have neither played soccer nor seriously exercised in about a year. Let me also say that my pair of Wal-Mart running shoes that I bought in college (and don’t have much sole left) aren't very great for stopping momentum. And while I’m at it with all these excuses let me also say that it was really, really hot today (It’s bad when you’re drenched with sweat before the game starts) and that, being a Sunday, I was already a bit tired and not so sure about playing soccer at such a competitive level.

                The game was brutal. I started off okay, trying my best to discern the other 21 Khmer voices as the ball began to move, but the further along we went, the worse things got. Thanks to my sneakers I did a fine job of slipping and sliding and whiffing at balls. On top of that, these guys were fast and in shape. Nobody jogged. They bounded. I wheezed as salty streams gushed down my forehead into my eyes.

                  I made it about to the first half, and luckily was saved by the fact that I had to get back home for a meeting. The ride home was the icing on the cake. Not only was I the only foreign face in the vicinity, but I was also the only foreign face wearing a bright orange (and a bit too snug, I might add) soccer jersey with rather short shorts. I’m so glad to have brightened everyone’s day as I passed by.

                By the time I got home, I had reflected upon the day’s lessons. First, don’t wear Wal-Mart running shoes to play 11v11. Just don’t. Second, ask for longer shorts. Third, ask more questions before volunteering to do something.

                Fourth: forget number three. The joy of discovery outweighs the hardship, and the opportunities for community and friendship can even make wearing a bright-colored jersey in an intense football match on a hot afternoon in a foreign country seem like a perfect day.

-Ryan