I watched a documentary last week that I would highly recommend to any soccer fan or player, but anyone else as well. It started with the story of Luke and Gwendolyn, two former college soccer players who never made it in the professional leagues. Having resigned themselves to the fact that they would never make it to “big time,” they tried to move on in life. They found, however, that the game still drew them in. They worked other jobs: Gwendolyn as a writer, Luke working on billboards, but they still found time to play. Realizing that they were not alone in this predicament, they decided to do some investigation.
Named after the Brazilian word for “pick-up”, Pelada is the story of the other side of soccer. Far away from the lands of multi-million dollar contracts, media spotlight, and world-wide competitions, soccer represents something entirely different. A healthy percentage of the world’s population plays “pick-up” regularly, loosely organized neighborhood games that are never recorded and have few spectators. Luke and Gwendolyn decided to travel the world, going mostly to the overlooked and underdeveloped countries, to capture the heart of these games.
Their journey tells the story of millions, maybe billions, of people around the world. Most of the people they met work hard jobs for long hours and little pay; some lived in rough neighborhoods, but they were all united in community through the joy of the game. A few comments:
Wherever they went, Luke and Gwendolyn searched for pick-up games. When they found them, they would ask to play. I was amazed at the graciousness and acceptance that was extended to them nearly everywhere they went. Surprisingly, it was often the “roughest” places that offered them the greatest welcome: they found acceptance for Gwendolyn as a woman playing in Iran, they chatted about life with prisoners in Bolivia, and they were offered accompaniment as they left a rough neighborhood in Argentina.
I’ve played soccer growing up in America, and participated in quite a few pick-up games. The game is the game, it seldom disappoints, but it was never the same in America as it was when I played in Costa Rica or in the locations shown in the documentary. In small spaces with limited resources, the game takes on a much greater air of creativity. When you have to make the ball you play with, it tends to have a little more value to you.
Despite soccer’s power to unite communities and bring people together, it does not always succeed in this endeavor. In tension charged Jerusalem, Jews and Arabs had to share the field where Luke and Gwendolyn played, and the result was a dicey game. One Jewish player was quoted as saying, “Although there are some people who try to portray football as being above politics, above all tensions, it’s bull. We will play with them, but we hate them.”
So, in the end, I’m not trying to make soccer out to be God here. It has its faults, surely, and it cannot overcome all issues in the world. Especially at the professional level, the spirit of the game often gets skewed and it becomes an idol for many people. But on a less prominent stage, where most of the film takes place, it is more pure. I think that wherever we are in life, we should never forget the power of play: to find release, to make new friends, and to find joy in a sometimes trying life. I sometimes question why I love sports so much, but it’s things like this that remind me of their beauty and give me hope again.
Until next time, play on.
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