Soccer in Sevagram

Today was a great day. It started like most days I have had in the past two months: wake up, eat food, talk to people, learn about healthcare, and reflect on the day’s experiences. But today I got to fit in something more before dozing off to sleep.

It began by approaching a group of Indian kids near a soccer field.  They urged me in Hindi for a minute before getting fed up and simply acting out that I had to climb under the barbed wire to reach the field. After managing through the fence, we grouped into a circle and passed the soccer ball around, transitioning to a game of monkey in the middle, with one boy trying to take the ball from the rest of us. Here I was, thousands of miles from home, doing the same exact thing I had practiced and learned to do almost 20 years ago. They say “football” is a common language that can be understood around the globe, that statement seems more and more true every day.

I found some Indian boys who spoke English and they explained that the field next to us was for the older, more experienced soccer players. I looked over and saw some Barcelona and Real Madrid jerseys, a common sight most anywhere in the world. After gaining some confidence in my own abilities through our little warm up, I asked them to help me get in on the shirts v skins match which had about 14 players total.

I walked awkwardly onto the dirt field, waving hello to anyone that made eye contact. I was greeted warmly; the “skins” telling me to take off my shirt, and the “shirts” telling me to keep it on. I tried explaining, “I’m really not that good”, but it was hard to tell if anyone understood or cared. Ultimately, I lined up with the shirts and picked a spot in the left midfield, just hoping not to embarrass myself. A few headers and carefully placed ground passes later, I was in. One pass slammed against my head but I simply played on, I knew I could deal with the pain over the next few days and just wanted to enjoy the moment. Some high fives, smiles, and apologies later got me feeling like I was back in the US, just playing a pickup game with strangers that love soccer.

Finally, after five flights, eight nights straining to fall sleep, tens of meals with food I could hardly pronounce, and countless conversations beyond my comprehension, I was comfortable. I was in my element. Back to something familiar and pleasant. If I had time to take a selfie, it would have been one of the biggest smiles I could manage. But instead I spent my time playing “give and go”s with teammates, taking shots on goal, and chasing the ball down whenever it ended up in the bushes surrounding the field.

It got dark as we played and I began straining to see the ball move around on the dark, dirt field. Two lights on one end of the field turned on and we simply played through the darkness. We switched sides and passed around some more. At one point, the ball went behind the goal and I ran to grab it, a simple duty of whoever is closest when the ball goes out-of-bounds. But then I heard shouting from behind me. I turned around confused as one kid ran past me, grabbed the ball and said , “snakes”, motioning with his arms as if there was some international hand symbol for snakes that I was never taught.

Eventually it became too dark to continue. It was only 7:30pm and I could tell everyone else wanted to continue. Instead, we settled for some conversation at the lit up end of the field (opposite from the snakes). Here, I explained that I was from the USA and lived near New York City. I received the expected excitement and statements like, “I hope to go to the USA”. What I did not expect was everything else. Their English was fantastic, a simple his/her slip up every now and then but they were all so willing to share. “Are there IT [information Technology] jobs in the US?” After laughing a bit to myself due to the various stereotypes of the IT industry within the United States I responded probably more confidently than I should have. “Yes, there are always lots of IT jobs for people that are smart and willing to work hard. Plus, it’s a good job because you will always have air conditioning.” That seemed like a relevant add-on considering my heavily sweat- and dirt-stained shirt. We spoke a bit about Spain, where I performed a basic poll for the ongoing Messi v Ronaldo battle and learned how out of tune they truly were with soccer, with only one brilliant kid voting along with me and recognizing Messi as the greatest player, the rest picking Ronaldo.

But the conversation changed back to academics. One boy was a mechanical engineer. Another an electrical engineer. A bunch of them were in their final year of studies and simply wanted to move on from Sevagram. They asked about my background and wanted to know what a biomedical engineer was doing at the hospital. So many of them hoped to end up in the United States and raise families there. Here I am for two weeks, living in their home, and learning that their greatest desire is to come and live where I call home. It is still early for me to appreciate moments like this. I need more experiences and more conversations to understand my new friends. I look forward to the rest of my time here and plan to spend many more hours playing soccer and trading stories with all of them.

Ultimately, it grew dark and we were all exhausted. We walked off the field with plans for the future. I told them I was here for two weeks and they asked me to come back and play. After they told me I played well, how can I refuse? Usually in the US, when I play soccer I get laughed at by all my friends who have been training on teams for 10+ years. But now I have a chance to make a decisive pass or goal, in India, with about 20 new friends. That is definitely something to look forward to. Soccer, football, keep away; whatever you call it, it’s just plain good fun all around. Even if you refuse to call “football” a language, it sure can be quite the icebreaker.