Campeões de Cabinda
It was a dramatic finish.
We were trailing 2-1 with two minutes left. The players on the opposing team were up behind their bench, arms locked around each other’s shoulders, hopping and chanting. Celebrating.
The ball was down at their end when their ‘keeper tried to clear the ball. It ricocheted off one of our players and their defense helplessly looked on as it trickled in the net. GOOOOOOOL!
The hopping and chanting came to abrupt halt.
They slowly made their way to mid-court, consoling themselves with hands turned down in a fanning motion: the international symbol for “It’s cool. It’s cool. We got this.”
But a minute later the ball was again at their end and we were pressing relentlessly. The whistle blew: a foul on the left side of the court about 15 meters out.
They lined up a wall and tried to track our players who were scurrying around. Our guy lined up behind the ball, picked his spot and drilled a right-footed shot into the upper right corner.
HWAAAAAAAAAAAA! GOOOOOOOOL!
Chaos erupted on the court and on our bench.
They lined up to kick off again but it was useless. The ref blew the final whistle. Final score: 3-2.
Our entire team hopped the fence onto the court, jumping around in a big circle, chanting the Portuguese version of olé olé olé.
You’d think we had just won the Champions League or something.
The 27 fans1 in the stands hollered and clapped and took photos with their phones. There was a ceremony where our captain was presented with the cup: a decent sized trophy with a piece of paper taped to the front that said, “1st Place: Celebration of Cabinda Futsal Tournament.”
This “tournament” had consisted of just four teams and was played over two weekends in a single elimination format. We played two games against teams that had matching replica socks and shorts and jerseys with their names on the back. We had stinky red kits and droopy socks and every mode of footwear imaginable from my fancy fluorescent Nikes to holey Chuck Tailors to muli-colored boat shoes.
After the game, the team all went to a dimly lit local joint where we had beers, sodas and chorizo purchased with the money from the winner’s envelope. Some of the other guys razzed me for missing a point-blank shot into a practically open net.2 We relived the game, talked about forming a team to play in the provincial league and laughed and celebrated.
Champions League or no, winning is winning.
What a thrill!! Felt like I was there. Memory that will last a lifetime. Congratulations to you and your teammates.
Ah, my youngest soccer son. He played with the Germans in his teens and now the Angolans (sp?) in his 30’s. And he keeps on winning, in oh so many ways.
Proud of you.
Thanks,
Your loving mutti.
p.s…you do stand out in the photos. THAT is really cool. And the face and haircut are different than a month ago. Leaves me curious for the next set of photos.
Love, love, your mutti.
I really enjoyed your commentary and pics. It’s great that you have the ability to write and the willingness to share your experiences. It makes me feel that I am there. I could even feel the emotions of the come from behind win of a rag-tag team.
Keep up the good work.
It’s too bad BIPAI doesn’t have someone like you to share the accomplishments of their dedicated Field Staff.
Much love and respect,
Rick Anderson
What a great experience you are having. Thanks for sharing. I enjoy your writing.
Hey Kim!
Thanks for reading. 🙂 Hope all is well.
Take care – J.