Football And The King
Or, Common Ground in a Fractured World Part II
FOOTBALL
Like I said in the last post, all of the 8pm World Cup matches donated their first 20 or so minutes of television coverage to reporting on the coronation ceremonies located primarily in Bangkok. Thus, two incredibly unifying ideas dissolve into one another: football and the king. The former connects people across borders around the world, and the latter connects Thais across political divisions around the country.
I had always heard that Southeast Asia is football-obsessed. And yes, the markets here sell bundles of bootleg gear, and I bought a sweet France ball in town. (At about $15, 'twas a pricey buy.) However, on the opening night of the World Cup - 9 June, for those of you who are a) American or b) newly relocated to beneath a rock - the bars were closed by around 11pm and there were few people on the streets. As it turns out, bars were ordered closed for the night for the holiday. Nevertheless, I found myself with a somewhat non-diverse group of people diversely Western. The United States, Germany, Austria, France, Holland, Australia, Northern Ireland, Colombia, and Britain were all represented in a group of people who piled in the back of two pick-up trucks - true to Thai style, with open Chang beers in hands - to go to someone's house where we watched the opening Germany-Costa Rica match on a big screen.
Every night I watch a bit of the matches, whether it's here at the guest house, at Kung's, Mae Sot Villa, etc. When I come back, the Burmese night watchman at the guest house is always tuned in. We communicate by facial expression, hand gestures, and the occasional, expressive, monosyllabic (for lack of a better word) grunts. He knows; I know. In my English class, I was having trouble drawing a response from my students on the first day. Then I brought up football and suddenly we were in the midst of a lively conversation. My students, mostly people (a majority female) who fled Burma and spent much of their lives in refugee camps, are experts on football. They love Ronaldhino. One of my students has worn a Barcelona jersey the past two days. Having established an amicable relationship about a mutual love for the world's game, today he and I played another game common to much of the non-American world: table tennis. (I won. Haha.)
I've never met so many people from all over the world as here in Mae Sot. Oftentimes these chance introductions occur in party settings, at NGO meetings, etc. And whenever I'm lacking for a conversation piece, I always turn to football, and it never fails me.
A final anecdote. On my way back to the guest house from a game of ultimate frisbee with some French people and a Colombian (I'm permanently staying away from using names from now on, by the way.), I got lost and wound up at the edge of a football field. On one edge of the field was some sort of large warehouse - perhaps a garment factory, since more than 10,000 Burmese "illegals" work in Mae Sot sweatshops - and on the other side was a rickety fence with a stream. The goals were more or less two-dimensional, with wooden posts forming a simple rectangle, and no nets. At one end of the field was an open, thatched structure where several Burmese were squatting, some were standing, watching the game. Only one team seemed to have common jerseys, and plenty of players were without shoes. I couldn't tell what material the ball was made from, but the field itself was full of holes and that stream wandered through it a bit, too. There were at least the standard 22 on the field, but I didn't count. I watched for a while, amazed at the enthusiasm on the field and glad for what must be a welcome diversion from the immense struggle of these players' everyday lives.
In a world seemingly driven by divide-and-rule campaigns like the War on Terror, divisions of all kinds within the human species seem to be increasing, not decreasing. Post-modern fragmentation takes its place in world history. Visions of unity, then, - expressions of commonality, evocations of oneness - become something akin to forms of resistance, testaments to the sometimes eloquence of the "natural course of things." Football and the King: a two-part prayer for common ground.
Long Live the King, and Ole, Ole, Ole!
The Mexico-Angola match is about to begin. I'm hoping for Angola.
(The sports shops in town sell quite a bit of football gear. Top picture.)
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