The life and times of a lower league footballer Part 1: Un-retiring

March 13, 2014

Listening to the coach talking tactics in the dressing room before a game (Ignore my hands)

I have loved football for as long as I can remember. If you are American, stop thinking of an oval brown ball and helmets. I am talking about Soccer. A sport that Americans are still not convinced about and refer to by a term that the rest of the world does not like. It is loved all across the world. The Soccer world cup is one of the world’s three highest grossing sport events in terms of brand value, the summer Olympic Games and the super bowl are the others. I have a vague memory of when I was a toddler, I played against young men who at the time looked like giants to me. I don't even think I could kick the ball further than 8 meters, unlike these light plastic balls made to deceive goalkeepers. Soccer balls in the nineties were so heavy that you'd think twice about heading it, it would probably put you in a coma. Anyways, where was I? Yes, my obsession with football. I am the official football dictionary in the family, I am an absolute fanatic. You will even find me watching Sunderland vs. Fulham with unrestrained excitement.

The last time I played an organized league match was 2011. I was exhibiting my talents in the fifth tier of French football, the regional league. Played mostly by part timers and almost retired professionals. Sprinkle in some international students and you have a league mainly played on Sundays in front of small crowds of geriatrics enjoying their retirement and kids trying to avoid going to church. I played for RC Vandrouvre. A collection of old pros, young students and talents that almost made it. We were good, comfortably beating teams a division above us during cup competitions. I had the time of my life. Football led me to cross paths with Ishmael Diouf (Isso, as he is known) a fellow student from Senegal whose style of play belied his physical build. At the end of that season, my calves were almost the size of Isso's thigh (A result of all the running and leg lifts that our coach made us do). But Isso took down opponents three times his size with ease, his fair but hard tackles made our coach (Chef) smile like a shady businessman receiving a government tender. Isso always played like a lion, comfortable on the ball like a Casanova is with a woman's lips and an absolute missile in the air. Playing with Isso and the lads at RC Vandrouvre put physicality into my game. From rolling around and limping like Ashley Young during my first month to pushing the biggest guys off the ball with ease (I just realized most girls won’t get these jokes, google them). I had fun, with friends who became my brothers.

In late 2013 I decided to come out of career induced retirement (chasing chameleons in the desert) and play competitive soccer again. After two years out of the game it was no surprise that age was right behind me and threatening to catch me up. I even resorted to running half marathons to get in shape, I showed flashes of playing like a lion as Isso had taught me. But what I have gained in strength, stamina and aggression. I had lost in speed and acceleration. I often asked myself why I was still trying to challenge small cartoon boys. When guys my age had grown potbellies that make them look like the Michelin man. I was training to regain fitness, most guys my age had drunk so much beer that they sound like asthmatics if they try to chase after a rolling coin. The answer is simple, I love the game. I am blessed to possess enough traces of talent to be able to look good playing the game, so while I still have some semblance of youth, I will play. I will make the best use of every chance that I get. As Isso says to me every time we chat online, “I hope you are always playing football”. Until the fun goes out of it, I will play.

I joined a local second division team called Swakopmund united. Actually what happened was a former colleague suggested that I play for his old team Blue Boys FC. So I went to the stadium he directed me to, when in actual fact Blue Boys train on the other side of town. But I stayed because at that point I was in no condition to be playing first division soccer, I had swallowed one too many Nando’s chicken pieces. Swakopmund united campaigns in the second lowest tier of Namibian football. There is no glamour in lower league football, there is no money. Neither is there fame or adulation, getting 100 people at a game is rare. No one plays lower league football unless they love the game, most of the boys that I am playing with see it as a stepping stone to the two divisions above. Where the crowds are much bigger and the possibility of money exists. Lower league football is part-time football played on a part-time basis. But that is not to say that there is no talent, nope: the talent is there. It’s mostly the discipline that’s missing.

Swakopmund united is different from RC Vandrouvre, at Vandrouvre I was one of the youngest guys in the team. At united, I am the elder statesman. Some of the younger players look to me for guidance, the rest are convinced they are the next Cristiano Ronaldo and don’t need advice from a guy with dreadlocks. But the boys have grown on me and I gradually have gained my own place in the team. From the quiet older guy who never misses training and never jokes, to just plain old “Rasta.” I am the token dreadlocked player in the team, every team needs at least one player with dreadlocks. It doesn’t matter which league or country. If your team does not have at least one guy with locks then your team is not doing it right. I am now fit enough to challenge for a first team place, I know that I can still go up another level. I can be faster, stronger and better. So its official, I have come out of semi-retirement. Like Isso says, “Always playing football.”