The Day(s) when Play is Enough
Just as the clock strikes the top of the hour, the familiar sound of children chattering comes filtering in from the top of the staircase by the school’s cafeteria. A few seconds later the pitter patter of feet becomes a rumble when the gym doors burst open and the kids come streaming in ready to play futsal.
“Hi, coach!” Hafsa says. “Guess what?”
“How are you, Hafsa? What’s up?” I smile and give her a fist bump. She proceeds to tell me how she played soccer over the weekend with her family, and how much fun she had, before scampering off to put her stuff away. School bags and jackets are dumped next to the bleachers away from the court and a few of the boys in the class have already got an impromptu game started before the teams for the day are given out. I scan the group to check the numbers and then divide the players accordingly. Our mini-tournament consists of two teams playing to the big futsal goals while the third team plays amongst themselves to small goals on the side of the court.
“Remember, you can’t change your goalkeeper in the middle of the game!” Ali shouts to the players on the other side before kick-off.
Later on I hear, “Formations!” from A’layla in the goal as she makes sure to have teammates on either side of her before rolling the ball out to restart play. As the school year has gone on, the kids have gotten more comfortable controlling the ball before attempting to dribble or kick to a friend. Getting their heads up and positioning themselves in optimal spaces is still a challenge but slowly they are navigating the court with more confidence. Every goal is accompanied with a loud roar and group celebration, complete with team high-fives and hugs. The loudest cheers come at the end of the 3 minute round, always from the team who gets to stay on the big court. For an hour after school, two days a week, this is their world. Little by little their competence grows and with it comes an increased sense of joy playing the beautiful game.
I’ve spent a lot of time over the past couple of years reflecting on what the role of a soccer coach is within an apartheid state. Of course, most people living in the United States would not define this place in those terms, which actually strengthens the point. Nonetheless, what we are living now, however grim, is not new in the pages of history, regardless of how short some might claim their memories to be. Let us not forget that it wasn’t too long ago that millions of liberal folks (among others) were entirely sure that the country was definitely at a turning point and had finally—in spite of the historical receipts soaked in blood—at long last come to a social justice reckoning.
Predictably, that awakening of America’s more equitable and tolerant character lasted about as long (and meant just as much) as it took elected officials in the nation’s capital to get up from their symbolic gestures of kneeling for George Floyd. They got up, dusted off their kneecaps, took off the traditional African Kente cloth adorning their shoulders, and resumed the business of managing the white supremacist settler colony. In keeping with custom, one of the chief tasks of an apartheid state is to ride out the incessantly turbulent waters—from their point of view—of the colonized experience. Until this very hour they operate safe in the knowledge that they have seemingly an endless supply of “Black Lives Matter” signage and corporate DEI advertisements to pacify a public in desperate need of food, shelter security, healthcare, and debt relief (just to name a few things). Federal funding for meals in public schools are being slashed, which ensures that young learners from lower socio-economic homes will continue to navigate the school day hungry while even more money is being spent to further support U.S. imperialism. This is the context of the lives of the children I’m fortunate to work with every week. These are the young souls we conveniently and permanently relegate to the status of “under-served” in a freedom loving country that is the blood-soaked, hand-crafted creation of slaveholders.
When this season of soccer in schools was all done, I looked at the player review forms the kids filled out and was reminded that within the context of our colonial emergency, the ability to see and define ourselves differently is priceless, it’s personally liberating. For a child, I dare not underestimate the power of any of the messages they receive about the world around them, or their place within it. I aim merely to help them learn how to look and to be more intentional.
“I learned that don’t (just) look at the ball, look up, too” Huy said in his review form.
“I learned that winning is not the (most) important thing” reflected Celeste.
In Murad’s review, he answered very thoughtfully to the questions about what he wants to improve as a player and what kind of support he needs so that he can make those strides. In a word, “focus.”
The energizer bunny herself, little A’layla—one of the youngest in the group—had this to say, “I learned that soccer is a fun sport!”
And perhaps the best reply to a question came from Ibrahim in response to the prompt: What can I (coach) do to make your experience better? He wrote simply, “Teach me good.”
So, what is the role of a coach in an apartheid state? Honestly, I’m not entirely sure, I’ll keep reflecting. I know that a soccer program won’t end colonialism, but in the meantime I know that I have to teach good or else I’ll have to answer to Ibrahim. From that standpoint, my mission is clear, and I take a certain measure of pride and inspiration from watching and guiding young people to grow more comfortable within themselves. While certainly not the only pathway to an awakening, I do believe that at their best, youth sports—as with any art form—can be a vehicle towards personal revelation. That is, if we have the required courage and intentionality to create environments where play sparks joy and fuels learning.
My contribution, if that is the correct word, is merely to express that in such a climate, with everything that our kids face, one of our most pressing challenges is that we give (all of them) adequate environments and the proper tools with which to play, to experience the complexity of finding and exploiting space in concert with their peers. Some day(s), that might just be enough to spark something in them that allows them to see themselves, and by extension the world, anew.
