Football Fever – November 9

The international referee from Canada (sounds impressive doesn’t it) was called into service yesterday. The lawyer, Lazo, invited me to come to watch the professional soccer game with him Saturday night. At the same time he mentioned that he played in a league (over 35 year olds) and they had a game Saturday afternoon. I offered to come and watch so we met at noon at his office.
The trip in to the office got stalled about ten minutes’ walk from the office because a bus had hit a pedestrian and all traffic (reduced to one lane because of street hawkers) had stopped. I got out of my rapidito and walked – that is how I found out the reason for the traffic stoppage.
On our way to the game, we stopped at Lazo’s mother’s place for homemade tacos. Rather delicious. It is nice to have them when you are reasonably sure of the preparation process. Old Irish Blessing – May your feet never blister and your bowels never rumble.
At the field, we met with the team ... and all their fans. This group of players has been together for many years obviously and it is a family like social gathering with the game just a small part of the entertainment. Their opposition arrived late and, according to the league rules, the game was forfeit. How ironic to cancel a Honduran game because someone was late. Nevertheless, the referees assigned to the game were not permitted to officiate even though both teams agreed to play a friendly match. Lazo knew I was a referee so I was pressed into service.
Fortunately, the teams were slow and the weather was cloudy. Thirty minute halves helped as well. Phew. Both teams played in a friendly manner so the match did not need any major control. At the end everyone stayed around to visit, have a cold beer and half watch the next match.
In the evening, we went to the Stadium in the downtown area to watch Olímpia and Real España. Lazo is an Olímpia fan and I am an España fan. We sat in the section with España fans and so Lazo had to sit quietly. Much to my amusement, he even had to endure a hug beery hug from an exuberant España fan when they tied the game. I nearly cried laughing at his face. As I was wearing an España team shirt, I was able to clap politely when Olímpia scored but poor Lazo had to sit on his hands. The game ended in a tie 2-2.
Of course, the final whistle rarely means the end of the entertainment from my point of view. The last beer and pop had been thrown on the field (whenever the referee ventured too close to the stands) and the fans were headed out of the stadium. However, in order to keep street level frays at bay, the doors to the España section were kept locked to allow the other fans opportunity to leave and get to their vehicles. Well, in short order, rowdy fans were taking turns leaping and kicking at the doors. One gave way briefly and about fifty fans managed to get out. By then, the riot police had moved in to help persuade others to stay put. Once we saw the boys with the night sticks headed to the entrance we found a convenient wall to stand by but still leave us with a good view.
As we drove through empty streets after the game we passed several corners where the young prostitutes were waiting for custom. What a truly lonely and terrifying position to be in. There is no place to go for help if they ever are assaulted. Every shop and home is dark, barred and barricaded. It was very sobering to see their plight.
This morning I was asked, fortunately before being served, whether I wanted hot or cold milk on my Raisin Bran cereal. Although puzzling to my host, I chose cold milk. I’ve had hot milk in other places and it really does take the snap, crackle and pop out in a hurry. Hot sog isn’t nearly as appetizing to me as cold crunch. In addition to cereal, we had pancakes. My host prefers them with refried beans and creama (salty, heavy cream) on them. I had one that way but ended up with a second one spread with floral scented tropical honey. Rather better in my view.
Bryan