Build your Sanctuary
“If there is a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, you must be the one to write it.”
—Toni Morrison
Captain Malik’s motorboat continued to roar as it turned and the wider body of the bay exposed itself. The giant rock rising up from the waters of Phang Nga Bay was immediately recognizable as we approached the floating village of Koh Panyee, Thailand. “There it is,” said Captain Malik as he pointed in the direction of the village. I smiled and nodded back at him while preparing my camera to capture the moment. Visiting this settlement had been of interest to me ever since watching an advertisement that featured the story of the soccer crazed children who managed to build a floating pitch from old scraps of wood and fishing rafts.
As the legend goes, the kids of the village were inspired from watching the 1986 World Cup, so they decided to form a team of their own. But of course, living on a floating village has its drawbacks for playing sports. So the youngsters got together and built their own footballing haven. They practiced by playing barefoot on the raft they constructed, imagining that they were preparing for world domination. With the constraints of the tight space, slick and uneven wooden surface, their skill with the ball had to improve greatly just to keep the ball from constantly going in the water. When word eventually got around of a tournament on the mainland, these innovators jumped at the chance to showcase their blossoming talent. With the support of the entire village, who had been watching the boys build and begin to play on their makeshift field—first in amusement and soon with joy and immense pride—the Koh Panyee squad set off to test themselves.
They performed very well at the inland competition, surprising even themselves with how skillful they had become, and their confidence continued to grow as they reached the semi-final. In that match, after going down a couple of goals at the half, the team famously took off their boots and socks, which were weighing them down as the heavens opened up and the unrelenting rains flooded the playing surface. On the soggy field, playing barefoot seemed to be the appropriate solution, and it was second hand to them. The team rallied in the second half, tying the match with 2 goals before succumbing to a late winner from the opposition. The Koh Panyee boys went from watching the world cup and dreaming of football, to building a field on a raft, practicing on a wet wooden surface with uneven planks and nails in it, to eventually finishing 3rd place in their first official tournament. From this passion and initiative emerged a local tradition and footballing culture that runs strong to this very day.
In 2012, I had the opportunity to visit this special place, and in so doing I fulfilled a promise to myself. The previous year had been a challenging one, both on and off the field. From the beginning until the end of 2011, I experienced a frustrating and injury-plagued season with my club, the end of a potentially promising romantic relationship, and I was left with a lot of questions about what direction to take my life. The opportunity to play professional ball was still there, but I knew that there was always going to be a short window for that. Deep down, I also knew that I wanted to do more, I wanted to be about more, than just my ability or desire to play ball. I was searching for meaning within the game.
Koh Panyee reminded me that the meaning within the game comes from being in community with others, from serving and sharing in struggle together. In my brief stay on the village, I watched fisherman rise with the sun and set out on their motorboats to meet their daily quota. I smiled at the sight of kids playing barefoot on the pavement next to their school building. Walking through the narrow corridors and aisles of the village, I witnessed how the entire place came alive to accommodate the tourists who came to shop for the day before leaving back to the mainland. I knew that I wasn’t so different from these tourists, and yet, in my own way, I tried to be. I stayed in the local guest house at night and during the day I explored as much as I could, walking alone and at complete peace.
Of course, it was the evening time that was my favorite. That’s when the men of the village came out to play ball. The world is a large place and there is beauty in every corner, certainly much more than can ever be experienced in a lifetime. In my life thus far, I have rarely, if ever, played ball in such an aesthetically pleasing setting. Beauty is largely subjective, of course, and it changes based on the eye of the beholder. Human emotion is less subjective. My lasting memory of Koh Panyee are the smiling faces, the laughter, high fives, back slaps, and even some playful and competitive aggression as we played on that grand stage with the sea as our audience under the light of the setting sun. It was a sanctuary.
From that most pure and holy of footballing environments, one thought kept reverberating in my head as Captain Malik took me back to the mainland. Build your sanctuary. That was the thought. Build something that you believe in, that builds community, that draws people from near and far to come and celebrate together. Build your sanctuary. With these whispers to myself, an idea was conceived and a promise was constructed. Looking back at the village getting smaller in the distance, I didn’t need reminding of the power of keeping ones promises, especially the promises we make while looking at a mirror.
Sometimes people ask me what it was like to play professional soccer, young players especially will ask what they can do to play at a higher level. I don’t claim to be an expert, judge, or jury of someone’s journey within the game. I will only offer some insights that places like Koh Panyee taught me. One of those reflections is the following: People who create things, who master something incredibly difficult, or who achieve something as monumental as building a legacy, they all have at least one thing in common. They are all excellent at crafting and keeping promises to themselves. Build your sanctuary. At least, this has been my experience. Long ago, the children of Koh Panyee made a promise to themselves, and they created a culture around playing a game, which they were so gracious enough to share with me. I am forever grateful.
