By Finley Caisse

They say the only things guaranteed in life are death and taxes. I propose a third, a smile. Midway through the trip, we made our way to my first professional soccer game at Ajel du Rufisque stadium, in Senegal of all places. The group arrived early and encroached on the ticket stand so we could get a sneak peek at the turf field we so desperately wanted to enjoy with the crowd. Once through, we approached the aged stadium where we heard the sounds of drums and singing, and the smell of peanuts mixed with the windy dry air that created a sense of excitement within the group. We could see the teams shaking hands and warming up to the sounds of the earsplitting drums. You could feel the energy. You could really feel the power in your bones as you watched the game and enjoyed the moment. We danced for the full 90 minutes, and at halftime drummed for 30. Our newfound team led us to a 3-0 victory with a hat trick from their main striker. It made me smile. It made me smile even though we were the outsiders, the Tubabs, who didn’t know anything about the team in a sea of red and white followers, we were welcome in their fan stands. From this, we were able to 

A couple of days later, we were invited back to see a practice session for the team where the same man greeted us with open arms and showed us to the field. Anthony, Blake, and I felt on top of the world seeing a pro team from the sidelines as I got to meet the 3 goalkeepers responsible for protecting the sacred rectangle from the dangerous sphere. Blake and Anthony played the game they loved while Alter, Maya, and I watched with our arms crossed gaining aura by the second. We were told there was a fan soccer match being held by the fans of “Ajel du Rufisque” and another team, in which I would have the chance to play, where I would once again be protected by the same brothers that I had fought with for a state title. It made me smile as I stood there looking at all of the players giving it their all every day. It reminded me of the grueling work effort that we put up with in the States and how we strive for a work-life balance, but here, the work is their life and they have serious pride in what they do.

Fast forward 2 more days, and we were now in Dakar being drawn into the match with the same energy that we had found at the first game. This time there were no drums, singing, or chants. It was the lure of playing soccer with a newfound family.  Overlooking me as I stepped on the field was a massive 3 story complex filled with gym equipment, social areas, and way too many treadmills. Our inside man pointed to a goal and told me in broken English to “guardian goal.” And I did! As the whistle blew, Blake and Anthony dominated the field, and thrill and excitement rushed through me just as it had during the season. 7v7, fast-paced, don’t zone out. It was organized chaos, some of the rules you had to just know. The box was optional, I found that out the hard way. My team could pass it back to me and i could pick it up, also found that out the hard way. The weirdest rule of them all, was wall ball rules, no out-of-bounds, and any wall could be an extra teammate. My 6 foot 6 center back commanded the field and kept me safe from almost all of the danger. 

My naive self asked him questions about the game only to find out, he spoke little English. Then I realized, soccer was our universal language. GOAL! Anthony had scored a goal with an assist from Blake and the crowd went wild! The energy from the 200-strong shook my understanding of how powerful sports can be, it made me smile. Throughout three, twenty minutes thirds, I found my rhythm. The bond between the team was strong and time after time we ran the game. Midway through the second game, the opposition took a shot on goal. My instincts told me to dive, so my body followed the command. But when I tried to move, my foot slipped and my hand fell short about 3 inches. In the moment, disappointment was the only feeling, the fabled clean sheet of this fast-paced game was over, and with it the bragging rights. Looking back on this one isolated moment made me realize that because of my privilege, I had always been able to afford cleats and gloves, but when I didn’t have the full equipment, I faltered. As I write, kids no different than me are playing barefoot on sand pitches, but to those kids having that ball, and having that sand pitch, and having the ability to share the smiles and sense of comunity is in itself the privlige. 

All of this combined made me smile. It made me smile that, because of my privilege, I was getting behind-the-scenes access to something a normal fan of this game would never get to do. But there were kids watching the games from outside the stadium and gates of the field I played on, that might be a privlige to them.  I now truly understand what I have and how it might help me broaden my understanding of how I might get treated differently because of the life I was born into. Some people sacrifice everything for the chance at having the life I live at 16 years old, while this blog post was written on Tubab Dialo