I happened to look up from my computer at 544 pm to take in the view of back bay. I am in my usual position in the Glickman, slaving over this thesis. My eyes were drawn to the patch of grass behind the large Hanaford by moving figures. I focused my eyes and saw men; men chasing a white leather ball. These men are playing soccer. At present I am struggling to compose a personal soccer ethnography based on last years experience in the PUSL, and I long to be down there on the pitch with these men. I have not played soccer in almost four weeks, and I need it. It is so tempting to pack up the bag right now, and go play. After all, I need constant praxis of this topic if I am to truly understand it.
...but alas, I won't make my debut today. I'll save that for the weekend, or next week. I am looking forward to it: playing with Portland's immigrants and soccer fans, playing with friends, and playing for fun. These pick up games are football at its most pure. No money, no ideology, none of Schmitt's thesis anywhere to be seen. Out there, it is not friend against enemy, its deft dribbling, soft touches, splitting passes, and laughter. After the sun sets an it's to dark to play, the game abandons and we all go home until the next time.
I can't wait...
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