Skip to main content

Inauspiciousness Is What We Do Best

 It was a rather anticlimactic end to a highly successful season for our beloved U-14 team.
At the end of the regular season we were seeded in 3rd place out of 11 teams and thus qualified for the pentaganol tournament to determine the league champion.
We tied our first game and then won our second two games and going into the final game this past Saturday we were in first place (point-wise) out of the top 5 teams.
This last game though was against the best team (talent-wise) in the league; one we had lost to 4-0 in the regular season and the team that had taken first place in regular season play.
Because of our point standings if we had just been able to manage a tie we would have forced an extra game, a true final as it were.
But we fell apart, in the most inauspicious way imaginable.
We scored first, Chamu, who hadn't scored much all season gave us our first and only goal.
This of ccourse got us excited, we could taste victory, another game, a chance at glory.
Then Duke, our center defenseman and the heart of the team had to step off the field because he was hurt, in that moment that he was gone the other team scored and our morale plummeted.
For whatever reason we could not recover and the other team ended up scoring twice more.
It felt like such a terrible way to lose.
It felt like we were better than this.
Better than the other team.
But, we're not.
We ended up in Second place.
Which is nice, really nice, it's just not first.
I think it was really hard for the older guys like Duke, Chamu, Jimmy, William and Lauro; they've been playing in this U-14 category for two years now.
Two years in a row they've ended up in Second Place.
This was their year to bring home a First Place trophy because next year half of them move up to the U-16 category.
It won't be the same.
still proud of them though


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…