Skip to main content

Laureles Football Redux

Although our kids ended their League-play in early October they've maintained that drive and passion for the sport and kind of by accident we were able to program 3 different days of games with 3 teams that don't participate in our league. One was in Club de Leones (those faithful readers out there may remember that I briefly worked with the youth there when I was with the Peace & Justice Project and still have contacts there), one wa in a very wealthy residential neighborhood and the last was in Sambo Creek, one of the Garifuna Villages outside of La Ceiba. I'm happy to report that we either won or tied all of our games and more than that, it was an opportunity to bring more kids into our team and establish leaders amongst the older youth. I allowed the older youth to organize the game dates, choose the players and manage the games...I simply provided the uniforms, transportation and water. It was a good week last week and it bodes well for our future as the Soccer Club of Los Laureles.

jimmy, a tiny but powerful defender

i love watching chamu play...just wish he were bigger

the older kids waiting for their game

chamu again

goal

the older youth...these kids didn't actually lay with us last year because they were too old for the teams we had in the league...this coming year, assuming the funds come in, we'll submit 2 more teams so that these kids can play as well.

goal by blas, an incredible player and the main organizer of this past week's activities

cristian, struggling a bit as he learns to play with the older youth

another one of my favorites to watch play, duke

the older youth pose for a photo
front l-r: abel (not an older youth), jimmy, cuesta, cristian, eddy, mario, chihua
back l-r: colocho, blas, hector, oscar, makika, chele, pepa, jeta

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Coming to Honduras

The other day in philosophy class I was teaching about existentialism, a philosophy with which I have myriad problems. The universe is absurd, life is meaningless, authenticate yourself with irrational leaps of faith! Hopeless and disconnected from reality if you ask me. Get out of the café Camus, mix with some common folk! Nevertheless, as I was introducing the material I mentioned that the existentialists really probed the questions of Life's meaning and purpose:

"How do I create myself to be unique and significant?" "How do I live an authentic existence?" "How do I give my life meaning and purpose in an otherwise meaningless universe?"
These seem to be questions that are attendant to societies that possess extreme wealth and privilege and an over-abundance of leisure time. I have serious doubts that 15th Century English peasants or even nobles for that matter, spent much time contemplating how they might make their lives unique or leave a significa…

Art Day

I've been forced into an "art-day" by Girlfriend; against my better judgement I've decided to turn to the only medium that I'm remotely skilled at. It's been far too long since I've written anything of worth and as I sit here, pondering my lack of output in the last 4 years, I'm left wondering if I have anything substantial left to offer to "The Conversation". I think I did once, when my integrity and identity were intact and people were genuinely curious about my life here. For reasons too numerous to count though, not the least of which is my own retreat from reflective thought put down on paper, I can't shake the feeling that I've lost the ability to speak and be heard. Girlfriend and I are reading a book about marriage together given to me by my sister; we take turns reading it aloud to the other and as salient points are read we often stop and discuss our thoughts. Thus far it's been a fairly blithe and carefree romp through…

10 Years In Honduras

My good friend Jessiel Rivera reminded me the other day that it was 10 years ago this month that I arrived here in La Ceiba. I remember my arrival here from Costa Rica fairly vividly. I had been getting teary-eyed on the plane from a combination of sleep deprivation, my longing to remain with my friends in beautiful San Jose and some sad indie music on my iPod. It was a hot and terribly humid Sunday afternoon when I landed in the La Ceiba airport and when I stepped off the 10-seater hotbox of an airplane onto the tarmac I was sweaty, bleary-eyed and disheveled. I looked like a typical gringo backpacker except for my mountain of luggage that I had in tow. Two members of the Central Mennonite Church picked me up in their car; how they knew I was the Gringo they were supposed to collect was beyond me but they got it right. I remember them remarking on the number of suitcases I had brought (3) and their heaviness (maximum weight allowance); and the resulting weight of embarrassment I felt…