Facing a Better Team

    The game of Futbol, as it’s known in Spain, or soccer as it’s more popularly known in North America, grosses the biggest fan base during the world cup which is held every four years, and although most people watch during the world cup, it is during the many European cups that one will see the best soccer in the world.

    But getting away from the pros, the millions of dollars and multitudes of fans who watch brings us to an empty pitch behind a church. Dandelions infest the clumpy uneven grass field which lowers and rises like a ship at sea.

     Over head dark grey clouds set the mood with a promise of strong showers. You can smell it in the freshness of the air and in the coolness of the breeze. You can see the sky’s dark grin as it waits to release a downpour at any given moment. Long strands of uncut grass flutter in a low gust of fast-moving air across the ill-tended field.

    Two teams are going to show up here and play. The match is an exhibition game between a second division team and a fourth division team. Two teams are going to show up and are going to battle for a win. No refs; only spectators’, players and coaches.

    One by one cars pull off the two lane highway into the gravel parking lot of the small church. Some of the cars carry players from the second division team, the better team, while in other cars are players from the fourth division team, the underdogs. I arrive with my friend earlier than most; we travel in an underdog car.

    As we warm up under the eyes of a lounging squad of 15 we wonder to ourselves if we have what it takes. I play defence and try and imagine making the right stops at the right times; the right pass to the right player. I’m probably more nervous than most as I didn’t spend my childhood in leagues and had to grind out ball control at a much later age.

    Every nervous pass and bad shot I’ve made trail across the back of my mind as I drill the top corner during warm up. Everything looks good during warm up; it always seems to. But when the field is emptied of practicing players, positions are assumed and things become serious, a different story always seems to unfold.

    The coach gives us a final prep talk. He thinks we can do well but isn’t expecting anything from us. He tells us to have fun and enjoy the game. Were told to just relax and play the ball. We stand there listening, anxious to get started; anxious to get that first touch out of the way and break through their defence and open up the scoring.

    I stand on the sidelines as each team makes its formation on the field. A warning drop of rain is launched to the ground splashing unnoticed onto the petal of a dandelion. I kick the ball around the sidelines, then sit on the bench before taking a warm-up jog in small circles.

    Soon enough I sub in, followed by my first touch, first clear, first pass, first mistake. The game continues through the sweat and aches of the players, and through the drizzling of light rain. It continues after they score, and after we equalize. In front of the eyes of scattered fans and hopeful coaches until the first 45 minutes passes.

    Going into the second half even makes us feel good. Although they have had better chances our passes are starting to connect and the field is starting to open up for us. We forget that they are better and instead adapt to the old philosophy “it’s not the cards you’re dealt but how you play them”.

    This has to be your mentality when playing a better team. Unless you’re scratching lottery tickets you can’t win if you’re expecting to lose. Shot after shot and pass after pass the game goes on. By the end the rain has stopped as dark drifting clouds clump together with no visible direction.

    Everyone shakes hands at the final before cooling down and changing. Some players talk about the game, others about Montreal’s chances against Pittsburgh or weekend plans or availability for practices. We split up into our underdog cars and ride away under the influence of a hefty loss.

    Being new to the team I don’t quite know how to feel about the game. My teammate Rob tells me about last year when they beat us 10 – 0, making our meagre 5 – 1 loss not seem so bad. Furthermore it’s expected that in our division a team of their calibre will be rare.

    The truth is, without negating or confirming any of the above given facts, that we have to be that anomaly. Our goal is to develop into a winning futbol team that plays well together, communicates, and above all else, wins. When we step onto a field and confront another 90 minutes of uncertainty it is not us, but them who will be facing a better team.