Sausage Dinner

Last night I was downtown running a few errands, so I decided to have dinner out. I went to Tu Hau, a restaurant I've frequented a few times. The past couple of times that I've eaten at Tu Hau I got the fried rice, so I thought I'd try something different. Tired of fish, not in the mood for chicken, and not willing to get the rat or turtle, I settled on the sweet and sour sausage. As I waited for my food, I sipped my Tiger beer and enjoyed the view from my rooftop table. It was dusk, and the lights were slowly coming on around the city. Lighting flashed in the distance, brightly illuminating the clouds in short bursts. I knew from experience that the storm was at least an hour away, so I would have time to enjoy my dinner. The waiter emerged with my entree, but it wasn't quite what I expected. Instead of sausage in the traditional Western way, the meat was in chunks, and looked like long bits of fat. I tried a bite and found the "sausage" to be very chewy. I flagged my waiter down and asked if this was what I ordered. The waiter, who spoke a little English, said that yes, this was what I had asked for. I must have not looked convinced, though, because he continued to describe the sausage. He pointed to his lower stomach, and drew his finger back and forth across in the general area where the intestines are. I looked back down and the long chewy meat and understood. I smiled politely, thanked the waiter, and asked for a plate of fried rice.

Soccer

I'm afraid that I have brought shame upon the entire American soccer community today. I was invited to play with some of my students this morning in a soccer match. I agreed to play, and was picked up at 7:45 and driven to the field by motorbike. "Field" is a bit of a misnomer, as the term implies that grass is present. Instead of a typical soccer field that one would find in the US, with lines, green grass and flags, I was presented with a dirt patch between two rusty goals. Imagine the infield at Camden Yards, and you're starting to get the right idea. On the upside, though, the field was surrounded by a net, supported by small tree trunks, so usually a missed shot didn't result in the players having to run for five minutes to put the ball back into play.

The pitch was small, and the Vietnamese at Dong Thap play very small sides, five on five. My team was kind enough to put me on the left wing, which is what I'm used to playing. Everyone got into position, and the game began. And that's when things went downhill for me.

At first, I thought things would go my way. I have the advantage of size. Remember that I'm at least a foot taller than pretty much any other Vietnamese guy thanks largely to my large lets. As a result, I can really send the ball when I need to, especially when compared to my fellow players. My long legs also help me outrun my Vietnamese opponents, at least in a long stretch. This advantage is mitigated by the very small size of the field. By the time I would get going, I'd be at the end of the field.

On a dirt field, the ball moves fast. It felt like we were playing indoor at points. Making things worse, the Vietnamese are really quick. To put it bluntly, I'm not. I didn't have much of a chance trying to get past the defense, so I instead tried to move the ball around and occasionally I'd try a shot. My efforts were frustrated by the fact that my teammates didn't know what the heck I was saying. I could yell "flag it" or "I'm on your wing" or "drop it back" all day, but the Vietnamese didn't have the faintest idea what I was saying. The Vietnamese also have a different style of play. I was taught to play a style of soccer that moves the ball around, passing backwards and across the field to set up the perfect shot. This strategy is not used nearly as much with a smaller field and far few players than the usually eleven.

But the biggest problem was that I'm out of practice. I can make up all kinds of excuses about the size of the field, the turf (or lack thereof), language difficulties, and differing strategic theories, but at the end of the day I can't escape the fact that I kind of stunk. My passes were off. My shots went way wide. I couldn't get the ball airborne. My traps were sloppy and the ball bounced off my foot.

My teammates were not very frustrated. I did manage to slow the attack, mostly because I'm a pretty big obstacle on the field. I took a sub about midway through and enjoyed the game from the sidelines because I was exhausted. On the sidelines, I talked with some of the spectators. Soccer games are apparently a pretty big deal, and a rare time where students from different majors meet each other. In Vietnamese universities students don’t choose their classes, and have all of their classes with the same group of about forty students all four years. It’s frankly a lot like American elementary schools. The social bonds that develop between the students in these classes are very tight, and students don’t seem to hang out with kids from other classes or majors. Each class, for example, has its own soccer team. I was playing with the Class of 2007 English B against the Class of 2007 Biology. Although only the guys play soccer, a lot of the girls will come to watch. The game is a big social outing, and I would estimate that about twenty people came out to watch the game at 8 AM

Despite my sub par performance I'm really happy that I played, though. I had a lot of fun, and I got a great insight to what my students do in their spare time. I have the utmost respect for the Vietnamese players. These guys don't care that the field is dirt, that their goals are rusty, or that they don't have a ref. They play out of love of the game. In my eight years of soccer refereeing, I can't think of many players that had as much heart as these guys. I'm also amazed at how well everyone got along. When the ball went out, the right team took possession, with no argument. If a player hit the ball with his hand, he stopped the ball and gave it to the other team for the free kick, no questions asked. Everyone played hard, and few guys went down every now and then. There were no hard feelings, though, no egos.

I was invited to play again, and I'm thinking that I might buy a ball of my own and practice in the afternoons. Hopefully just dribbling and passing will bring back some of my lost skills. I also need to practice sending the ball long on the dirt. Without grass to provide a little bit of a tee, shooting and corner kicks are a new challenge on the dirt. Hopefully an improved soccer game will be another one of the skills I bring home from Vietnam.