| InterAmerican InterAction Newsletter |
November
2003
|
The
Football
by Connie Burk
Around
6 PM, they started trickling in. Some sat down at a computer and idly
practiced typing. Others, not familiar with the computers, stood behind
the benches and watched. Each time I came near, helping a student with
homework or with printing, they tried to catch my eye, wearing expectant
looks. I was nervous. I wasn't sure I could pull it off. In the lull
between lunchtime and the after-school rush, I had tried twice and was
only partially successful. I didn't let on, just looked at the clock
and said, "Not until 7."
It was a long hour. Finally, 7:00 rolled around. The high school students
were finished and some had joined the others, waiting. They numbered
about a dozen altogether; there was a decidedly male presence in the
lab. Two teachers were still preparing their semester exams. Drat! Teachers!
Can't really throw them out. I strolled over to one, then the other.
"It's a special night here. Are you almost finished?" "Yeah,
sure," they responded, barely noticing me. The room was silent
but alive with fidgeting, waiting.
At 7:15, one of the teachers finished, and I quickly invited the other
one to finish her work on the computer in the office. Before she could
respond, I'd saved her file on the network. While opening her file again
in the office, I said casually, "It might get a little loud,"
then returned quickly to the lab.
Finally ready, I asked, "Who's playing?" Eight young people
sat down, four on a side, while others sat next to them or leaned on
the benches from behind. I began going from computer to computer, rapidly
keystroking my way to the hidden program and hoping they wouldn't guess
my password. Soon, eight boys were looking at the same screen on eight
computers.
"Everybody listen carefully, and don't touch anything until I tell
you." Nobody smirked. They listened carefully. "OK, click
'Game Modes'." I heard a chorus of clicks. "Now, 'Multiplayer',
then 'Network'. Who are the captains?" There was a soft mumbling,
and a boy on each side raised his hand. "Edgar will initiate,"
I said, conscious that nobody knew what that meant. After a couple keystrokes
at Edgar's computer, I said to each of the others, "Click on 'Columbia',
then 'Join'." I watched as eight players appeared on Edgar's screen,
and then I clicked "Forward."
"Edgar, Narmo, what teams do you want?" I suggested the Central
American league, thinking they would want to be represented by players
that might look like them. I was wrong. Edgar immediately replied: "Brazil."
Narmo quickly followed: "Argentina." I found Brazil and Argentina
and clicked "Forward."
"OK, everybody on this side press your left arrow on the keyboard.
Everybody on that side press your right arrow." Some complied;
others froze. Neighbors helped neighbors.
"It's pretty simple," I said, while I still had their attention.
"Your player has a red triangle over his head. You use your arrow
keys to move him. When you want to kick, press 'D'." I gave a few
more instructions. They listened, studying their keyboards with gravity,
resting their fingers gently on the keys as I mentioned them.
"Alright, nobody touch anything," I said, and clicked "Forward."
The suspense was great as everyone watched the blue bar that said "Loading"
move across the screen. I held my breath.
Suddenly, eight sets of speakers burst forth with stadium sounds. All
eight computers displayed the crowd going wild while the two teams ran
onto the field and began warming up. The boys watched, entranced, the
realistic closeups of the players stretching - you could see them breathe.
Two players faced each other at center field. Nothing happened. "D,
boy, D, boy," Edgar called to nobody in particular. Somebody pressed
"D" and the game began. Those quiet, obedient kids instantly
turned into a pair of rowdy soccer teams, enthusiastically attacking
their keyboards and urging others on their teams to do the same. I watched
some pretty unusual moves early on as players practiced moving their
men in short spurts to the right and to the left, and forward and back.
After a year of hearing only English and K'ekchi' spoken in the Opportunity
Center, I suddenly heard only Belize's unofficial national language,
Creole, and I understood very little of it. I could only understand
repeated orders to "Sprint, bwai," and "D, bwai,"
and I understood the intensity and the laughter. When somebody scored,
one side of the room erupted in excitement. And everyone enjoyed the
close-up views of the on-screen players celebrating a goal.
I went into the office, checked my notes, and hollered additions to
my instructions. They were acted upon immediately, as the players began
to steal the ball, sometimes successfully, sometimes incurring penalties.
Personalities displayed themselves quickly. Some were aggressive; others
were tentative. A few passed; most hogged the ball all the way downfield.
All improved their playing skills rapidly.
Suddenly, all the screens changed to black and a sentence announced
an injured player. I walked over to a screen, beginning to read the
substitute player instructions, but somebody pressed a key that resumed
the game, and I laughed out loud. One of the players now had a small
red cross above his head, and a serious limp. He stayed in the game
until the end, limping stiffly and rapidly up and downfield.
They played three games; then I chased them home. All the next week,
children and teenagers came to me, saying, "I want to play the
football." My response was strict: "Only on Sunday afternoons
and Thursday evenings." (On Thursdays, I spend the night in the
Center, sleeping in my hammock, allowing for a special late evening
session.)
We've
played many times since then, but never with quite the same level of
excitement as on that first evening. Soccer is very popular in this
village, though, with many young people congregating at the football
field near the school each evening, and the teenagers and younger children
treat their computer soccer games with equal intensity. Keneth Choco
(right, with Nelson Coc) is the player to beat these days.
For me, this was primarily an exercise in networking a game, which I
hadn't done before. I also hoped it would bring new students to the
lab, and it has. While I have big concerns about the electronic mesmerization
of many young people in the States, I enjoy watching the Columbia youth
enjoy this game. They are very similar to North American teenagers in
many ways and in a village where Nintendos, Play Stations and Gameboys
are non-existent and I had the resources to wow them with something
of this caliber, I had to ask, "Why not?"