Quick wits, quicker feet – A tribute to Marvin “Helao” Asser.

Let me tell you a story, a very long story. Sit down or stand still (if you’re reading this from a mobile device), this might take a while. When I was younger, we formed our own neighbourhood soccer team – like many boys our age. They weren’t any youth teams or academies on the east side of Oshakati at the time, so we took initiative and banded together. I was around 13 -14 years old, I was the oldest in the group, and so by default and physical development, I became team captain by unanimous vote.

Everyone else on the team was a year or two younger than me. We played against similar rag tag teams from the villages surrounding Oshakati and the township of Oneshila. We didn’t have a fancy name, a team bus or a special coach. We didn’t even have jerseys, what we usually did was try and wear the same colour t-shirt. We only had talent and courage. Tactics were only available when our coach and neighbourhood barber Shiti was around, he would share his wealth of expertise, gained from watching Sir Alex Ferguson chew gum on TV. He’d make a game plan, playing us in positions that would make the team stronger than the individual players. Without a game plan everyone would just follow the ball around the field and we’d lose by a hockey score. When he wasn’t around, I would have to be the ‘Special one’ and team captain, rolled into one. I’d play and coach on the field, I was vocal and I was determined, I led by example.

This story is about one particular game, the kind of game you tell your children about. We were playing against a rag tag XI in Oneshila. They had home ground advantage, which counted against us. Their field was all sand and gravel, and it was the size of the Namib Desert. It would take a day for the ball to travel from one side of the field to the other. You could kick it in the air, go home to watch TV and walk back across to Oneshila, just to find it still dropping out of the sky. If you know me, you’ll know that I am over exaggerating. But you get my point, right?

Our games had no referees, most of them were not subject to time limits. The games were settled by goals. The first team to 3 goals wins. The Oneshila rag tags changed the rules, they raised the goals ceiling to 5 goals. It was their field and most of their team was even bigger than I was, if we fought them we would lose the fight and badly. We just had to make sure that we scored five goals first, if our energy levels lasted long enough. 

The main cogs in the team were Denys ‘The menace’ in goal, Iipumbu and I played in defence, we’re both left footed so we were ‘Two left feet’ (See what I did there?). Alarky ‘Shuffle’ was on the right wing and Marvin ‘Quick feet’ was up front as a lone striker. Those really aren’t our nicknames, I just made them up for dramatic effect. Where was I? Oh! The game. We had come from behind to draw the match level at 4 goals each, it was finely poised, on a knife edge. Actually, we were lucky to still be in the game. We only came with 11 players and one of us got injured early in the game, still can’t remember who. Maybe I am getting old. We were at a numerical disadvantage. It would be half a miracle if we went on to win the game.

The sun was setting and we were tiring very quickly. If we couldn’t get the ball in the net and soon, they’d have the option of penalties to try and cheat us, using the setting sun against us. It was a known fact to the opposition that Denys had problems seeing the ball in conditions of reduced visibility. To this day Denys still can’t see the ball in the dark.

As they say in soccer terminology, we had parked the bus, and the trailer as well. We had two banks of four protecting Denys in goal. We were physically and territorially at a disadvantage, the possibility of us winning was slim. However, tactically, we were well positioned. We were set up to be compact and frustrate them, defending in numbers and then quickly spring boarding up field and catching them on the counter attack. But we had to get a hold of the ball first, it seemed like centuries ago since any of our players had touched the ball, we were starting to chase shadows.

Then, it happened. Our lucky break. One of the opponents took a loose touch, Iipumbu stabbed the ball towards me when he went crunching into a tackle against the tallest opposition player. I pushed the ball forward and strode confidently out of defence, my first instinct was to boot it up field. But Marvin was alone up there and hoofing it would just mean gifting possession to the opposition. I looked to the right, but Alarky was lethargically jogging. I looked left and Iipumbu was still picking himself up from his ball winning tackle.

I took a touch to evade a chasing opposition player. I dropped the right shoulder and turned to cut back on my left foot, I had lost my marker, he was skidding off the sandy field onto the adjacent gravel road.  I looked up, Marvin had turned his body, and he was right on the shoulder of the last defender. He called for the ball, “Malima!” He screamed my name. During crunch time the best players always want the ball. I played a side foot pass that caught the defence ball watching. I opted for finesse, I was afraid that I would put a little too much on the ball, and Marvin wouldn’t be able to control it properly. But he did, he cushioned it on his thigh as it bobbled just as it rolled into his path. He was on his bike, they’d be no stopping him. 

He had two defenders on his tail, but if anyone could blaze a way through, then it was Marvin. I didn’t run up to support him or provide him a second option, he didn’t need one. He’d done it before, he was single minded in front of goal, and I trusted him. I stood and watched. He put the after burners on and pulled away, the opposition goal keeper came ambling out. Half unsure and totally confused, all uncoordinated limbs. Marvin teased the goalkeeper, he swung and faked a shot with his right foot, and the opposition goalie took the bait. Diving into the sand like he was in a flood plain in Northern Namibia trying to catch a frog.

Marvin looked composed and assured, he slotted the ball past goalkeeper with his weaker left foot. No hesitation or fear, it was like he had ice water for blood, he had killed off the opposition in a nonchalant deadliness not seen since Fat Ronaldo (El Phenomeno) retired.

It was a goal! An undisputable goal. The opposition couldn’t claim that it was too high or it actually went wide. It was a match winning goal. Cue the celebrations. Iipumbu and I stood in the centre circle, joyous, relieved and victorious. We both knew that we had pulled off a smash and grab. We were out on our feet and somehow still delivered the knockout blow. And as Marvin was lost in shoulder claps and the pile of sweaty bodies in the team huddle, Alarky and I picked up the winnings and we all started the short walk home (We won 20 dollars). All was forgiven, including an own goal and Denys’s role in conceding the second goal.

Marvin’s goal was typical of his character, he was courageous and annoyingly persistent. He didn’t know when he was beaten and he stood up not only for himself but for his friends. We were ready to give up that day, especially since we were chasing shadows. But he persistently kept at his lone furrow up front, often running into space for balls that never came and chasing lost causes. He inspired us to keep going and gave us confidence in knowing that all we needed to do was to win one ball and give it to him, he would do the rest. 

Marvin also had a penchant for mischief, so there was never a dull moment when he was around. He was an entertainer. He wasn’t at the party, nah, dude was often the life of the party. Everybody who hung out with him knew he was quite a lively character. He wasn’t like furniture, he never knew how to fade into the background. He was born to stand out. 

The invincibility of youth makes us think that we are untouchable, like life has nothing on us. We drift away from each other periodically and pay no mind to it, because we think that we will always be on this journey of life together. Life reminds us otherwise. Life reminds us that along the way, along the journey of life we have to accept that we have to let go of friends and buddies who were almost like our siblings. 

Marvin, my friend. Go well, rest in eternal peace. We will treasure the memories and tell the stories over and over, and over again. You’ll always be in our hearts, vululukwa nombili kuume.