...yesterday's list continued...

Picking back up with #6 - pick-up - which is fitting, I think, considering that soccer, as always, has returned to surround and impregnate my vida cotidiana. After my first week here, I found a futsal court across the river and about a block away, and since then I've been going, about once or twice a week, to play. I guess you could say that I've been making more friends - since arriving at Duke the sport has most impacted me not as a means to stay fit but as an introduction to some of my best friends (Larson, I'm looking at you!). It was about 6p on a Sunday the first time that I showed up there - an hour that I've since learned is dedicated to the kids. I went with my Turkish friend from class (who, I should mention, has since been banned from the court because he doesn't know how to control his temper when he plays....oops....) and we joined the youths. Mostly boys, but a couple girls in whom I could see much of my younger self, swarmed the court - the little ones versus the slightly more mature but also more arrogant adolescents. Regardless of the age playing, the rules of this court are the same: 4 field players + a keeper on each side, games to 2 goals, king of the court-style. But there's also a level of hierarchy I've not experienced while playing pick-up in the US. There is, I'm beginning to realize, a subtle distinction between the regulars here and the guys that just drop in from time to time and the newbies like me. With the end of each individual game, the winning team reserves the right to swap players as they like. Do something to have pissed them off, and even though you won you may be kicked off the team in favor of someone on the bench that they've met previously. The first three or four times I ventured out to the court, it was a constant battle of proving myself. By the kids I was quickly accepted, by the adolescents quickly rejected until they found themselves three goals down in a slightly longer game when there was no one on the bench waiting to play. Anyone roughly over the age of 35 seems to have no problem with letting me have a shot to prove myself, but I have to be vocal about it. By far the most difficult age group to break into has been my own (roughly anyone between the ages of 16 and 25 takes a lot of convincing). I'd like to brag for a moment now that I was invited to join a winning team within the first 30 seconds of my arrival at the court today. It was, quite possibly, the ultimate sign of respect. While playing with the kids that first day, I had the opportunity to speak with one of their fathers who was more or less making sure that no fights broke out and that the boys made sure to include both  the girls and the younger players. He had two kids their, a son of 11 years and a daughter of 8, and he explained to me that they came from a slightly better part of town, but that they come, every Sunday afternoon, to this park to play because it is a court that attracts a high level of talent, an immensely diverse range of players and the court is in good shape. On this court, I've met, among others, 3 venazolanos, a cubano who's about 16 and STILL doesn't trust me, a couple brasilenos who are quickly recognizable by their tendency to move the play from the cement to the air, a Moroccan 19 year-old named Ruben (with a particularly gutterally rolled 'r' at the front of his name) who is ALWAYS at the court - he seems to be more or less the older brother of everyone there, everybody knows him by name, all of the kids always run up and give him huge hugs, and he's on speaking terms with this one homeless guy (at least I assume he's homeless, but I probably shouldn't judge by appearance). Though I've never had and probably never will have a direct conversation with him, this homeless guy is one of my favorite parts of this court. He likes to watch, generally from the back left corner and outside the court's bars, and cheer on his favorites. After my first day their, he'd christened me 'la jugadosa' and every time I'm there, he shouts amicably at the men on the court that they should give me a chance, that they can't just put me on a team but should pass to me too, that they should watch the way I run because they might learn something, that they shouldn't underestimate me when defending because they'll be embarrassed regardless. Generally I head over to the court after I've finished my homework for the day and games are already underway; I always stay until the games break-up, and as we all leave the court, joking and reminiscing about various plays, this homeless guy thanks us all for letting him watch and for not asking him to leave before he does, in fact go his own way.