I am writing this while my children are playing soccer with other children in the village field. This morning, after two long years without being able to do it, the eldest, who is now eleven, has returned to participate in an official match. After two courses away from the field due to the pandemic, this September he finally returned with his ikastola team, with which he made his debut at the age of five. But it turns out that in this time those responsible for football have changed and the new, determined professionals, separate the children by supposed abilities and had the happy idea of isolating mine from his friends in his class to make him play in a team of more children. little ones. My son suffered a lot and I decided to get him out of there.
Luckily, he was kindly received by another team. The one with which he made his debut today. Together with him, he has become his best friend. They have lost 6-2, with two goals from the second. During the return home by car, they commented animatedly on the match between them. They were happy. I have heard that they said “we are the winter signings”, and laughed. I look up from the computer. On the pitch, a short, fast boy scores a goal and celebrates with his arms outstretched in front of an invisible stand, imitating Muniain. I am fascinated by how children build a fiction around themselves when they play soccer, but it worries me when adults do it and treat the little ones as if they were professional players. In these years I have seen dozens of elderly men shout unintelligible instructions from the band to children who still believe in the wise men; coaches and parents who live a fiction in which children are victims of their delusions.
The little ones have finished their match. They shake hands and say goodbye until another day. My children come up to me, panting from the effort, cheeks flushed. I am terrified that they will hurt them, so it comforts me to see that the eldest recovers and, little by little, enjoys his great passion again. Upon reaching my height, he gives me a kiss, smiles and says “Great game.” And I put an end to this column smiling too, infected by his happiness, from which he gives him the ball.
#Children #soccer #fictions