April 2010, Los Chiles, Costa Rica. As I pass through the gates into the small soccer complex I see that some of the players have already started warming up under the lights. “Hola”. “Que Paso”. “Pura Vida”. The townspeople whom have come to watch tonight’s games, greet me in the Spanish phrases that have become so familiar the past couple weeks. Some of them I have never seen before, some I met last week, and some I have know for years, but all of them make me feel welcome, as if I am a long time friend whom has just as much of a right to be here as they do. For a moment I forget that I am a foreigner from the USA, only there for a month. Peter calls out to me to come start warming up, so I head out onto the synthetic pitch, ducking through the opening in the net that encloses the field. While sitting there lacing up my cleats on the perfectly flat and true surface of the artificial field, I think to myself, “How did a town like Los Chiles, wind up with field this nice?” Behind me I can hear the chatter of the crowd as they gather to watch. Even though I understand less than half of what they are saying to each other, I know some of the conversation is about me. This becomes evident when I hear the words “El Bicileta Blanca” (the white bicycle), a nickname given to me during last week’s game when I performed an overhead/bicycle kick off of a high cross from a teammate that narrowly missed the near post. Their words leave me smiling as I collect my jersey from Peter and join in the warm up. Some fifteen minutes later the ref signals for us to take our positions so he can start the game. The passing is a beautiful thing to be a part of. It’s like watching a pinball bounce around between teammates as the ball is worked up the field, almost always resulting in a shot on goal. Playing soccer is not the reason I am spending a month in this small town of 3,000 people on the northern border of Costa Rica, but is has proven to be just as much of a platform for building relationships as the water wells we have been drilling in the nearby Nicaraguan refugee camp.
November 2011, Vilo, Democratic Republic of Congo. It’s and exciting day for the Sport4HOPE team. One of the villages in which we are working has set up a special exhibition soccer game specifically for us. Stephen and I are welcomed by our respective teams, given jerseys, and taken into the locker room (nearby mud hut homes) in preparation for the game. When we jog back out onto the field for warm ups I immediately think back to those games in Costa Rica and how much fun I had playing as a foreigner with the locals, however this game would be very different. Less than a minute after kickoff, I receive the ball with my chest from the goalkeeper’s punt, and quickly control it on the ground. Finding a teammate to my left making a run down the wing, I play him a pass, which on a smooth surface would have met him perfectly in stride heading toward the opposing goal. However the surface on which we are playing today is hard packed dirt, uneven, and littered with debris. Not only does my pass hit a mound and change directions immediately after leaving my foot, but my teammate slips on some loose debris while trying to change directions and falls to the ground. It didn’t take long for Stephen and me to recognize the altered style of play which we were seeing all around us. Passes were almost always areal passes to avoid the unpredictability of the playing surface. A couple minutes later one of the opposing team’s players finds himself in front of our goal with the ball. He lowers his head and places a shot with medium pace toward the lower right-hand corner of the net. Glancing up at the goalkeeper, I expect to see him already diving for what would be a very realistic chance of making the save. However, I can see in his eyes a look of contemplation. He is not completely focused on the ball as most goalkeepers would be. He is weighing some very important odds in his head; the bodily sacrifice of diving on this uneven abrasive dirt field and making a save, versus staying on his feet and letting the other team score. Making his decision, he dives through the air, barely getting a couple fingers on the ball and deflecting it just wide of the goal. The spectators cheer loudly, but the goalkeeper is not smiling; he has cut his hand and wrist pretty badly, and has to leave the game. Afterwards we tend to his wound with antiseptic, gauze, and bandages, and he is not only one whom has has been injured while playing today.
This is not soccer. Instead of the beautifully consistent and perfect playing surface of the synthetic grass pitch in Los Chiles, I am now playing on a pure dirt field that has been rendered virtually unplayable from the heavy rains that are inherent to any place which lies less than 2 degrees off of the Equator. Water runoff has created valleys and ridges all throughout the playing surface, which is littered with debris of small pebbles and twigs. The most fundamental technical and tactical aspects of the sport have been lost, and its easy to understand why. Short quick passes, movement off the ball, team possession, and a slow build up attack are a nothing short of a pipe dream on a field like this. Instead, the only way to be remotely accurate with your passes is to play the ball in the air to your teammate, an inherently tougher skill and less desirable pass to receive. I could count on my hands how many successful passes were completed by my team for the entire game. All coaches know that in order to teach tactics, players must have solid technical ability. And all coaches also know that in order to teach and execute technique a smooth, accommodating playing surface is needed. The maximum potential of a coach is greatly diminished when the condition of the field is such that the players cannot control what the ball does. But this is not the only dilemma. A greater problem is how little opportunity exists for the kids of Vilo to be involved in any organized sport whatsoever. This is largely attributed to the lack of suitable and sustainable facilities. Therefore the logical solution to this problem is exactly what we are proposing; help Vilo build a new soccer field.
Three desired qualities have been laid out as goals for the finished product. The field must be level, have a flat and smooth playing surface, and it must hold up to the rains of the Ituri District. This is an enormous challenge considering we have not seen a field in all of Eastern Congo that fits this description. Nonetheless work has already begun. The community members are clearing the plot of land on which the they would like the new pitch to be built. Back here in Bunia, the Sport4HOPE team has been researching all aspects of construction, from the leveling of the land, to funding the project, and everything in between. We have been in correspondence with an American contractor whom has done the majority of his work in developing nations, the head groundskeeper at Red Bull Arena, a sales representative from an industry leading synthetic field-turf company, the local civil engineers here in Bunia, and a non-profit organization in the US that funds the building of soccer fields in Eastern Africa. Basically we are doing everything we can to find out what it will take to make this project a reality. I believe our biggest task will not be clearing the land, and it will not be leveling the playing area. It will be creating a sustainable playing surface that doesn’t end up like all the rest in 3-5 years. All the research we have done and everything we have learned points toward a synthetic pitch. A synthetic pitch can receive ten times the use of a natural surface, while needing a fraction of the maintenance. They can also last over 15 years, all while providing a level, flat, and smooth playing surface. Therefore, a synthetic pitch is a serious consideration.
Still to this day I am amazed at how Los Chiles, a town of 3,000 people in a developing Central America country, has wound up with a pitch at beautiful as the one they have. A surface like that, suitable for professionals to play on, makes the game that much more enjoyable. It highlights the skills of the player and fosters tactical and technical development. That synthetic pitch in Los Chiles, Costa Rica has done more for the community than any field I have been involved with anywhere in the US. The whole town rallies around this field. It gets constant use and just about everyone in town has the opportunity to play on it. Mondays are the youth boys league, Tuesdays are the youth girls league, Wednesdays are pickup night (where I first got my start), Thursdays are the over 30 league, Fridays are the men’s open league, and Saturday nights the professional team plays. But it’s not just the players that are able to enjoy the field, it has become a social gathering spot for soccer lovers and non soccer lovers alike. The townspeople crowd the complex every night to watch their daughters, sons, parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends play. I think back to that specific night; everyone is talking, laughing, and having a good time together. At the walkup concession stand, a group of teenagers are grabbing a bite to eat. At the gear kiosk, the owner of the local hardware store and his wife are picking out a replica jersey as a gift for their son. On the pitch our team is celebrating the goal we just scored. The complex is buzzing with activity and the lights of the field can be seen from miles away. This is the power of sport, and this is our vision for Vilo.
