Russians love soccer. It is by far and away the most popular sport here. On Sunday, I had first hand experience of the fervor with which "Tomchiki" support their team as a spectator. Today, I had the opportunity to observe the local passion for soccer as a player.
While doing my homework at my Russian mother's store, three strapping young lads dropped by to pick up some beer from the Altay region. I had met them on another occasion earlier on during my stay. Roman, Dima, and Misha study math at Tomsk State University. They were eager to meet an American and I was eager to speak Russian, so we hit it off. A little later, Andrei arrived. He had recently taken advantage of the "Work/Study Program", which allows Russian students to work in the United States for a three month period. Andrei spent his time in some random town outside Strasbourg, PA making cakes. He said it was boring.
Having exhausted the theme of cultural differences (a favorite, if redudant, topic of conversation) - my new Russian friends invited me to play soccer with them. Natasha has been stuffing me with pirozhnoe (a kind of cake) and blini, so I was eager for a chance to get some excercise and jumped at the offer. After changing clothes, we headed out into the Russian barrio.
There is a small little asphalt park, enclosed by Soviet concrete monstrosities, approximately a five minute walk from where I live. When we arrived, there were a number of people milling about - a few young boys with Harry Potter(*) t-shirts and goalie gloves, a girl in a pink jumper outfit, two older-looking twins with brilliant red hair and matching track suits. At a moment's notice, everyone was ready to play their beloved sport. There were no goal poasts (it was agreed that two delineated sections of the fence surrounding the park would suffice for our purposes). Misha brought an old beat up ball. A brief gathering to split into teams - and then off we went. That's the beauty of soccer. All you need to play is a ball and a modicum of enthusiasm. As I stood on the sidelines being eaten alive by mosquitoes and taking in the surrounding garbage and dilapidated buildings, I could not help but think to myself, "This is kind of cool."
* I bought my first Harry Potter book today in Russian. It appears as though he is quite popular in this neck of the woods.
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Yeah, soccer is ubiquitous in all parts of Russia. When I was little there were always boys playing soccer. If you remember in Margosha the co-workers also get together and play soccer.
ReplyDeleteTo continue on my comment on Melancholia, somehow I hope none of those Tomchikov are reading your blog. Because you paint a picture of happy youths playing among garbage and decay. Thats not how they want to see themselves. After all, all that garbage is the evidence of their government failing to provide for them they way government does it here, in US.
Bela, you are completely right. I need to be more careful in how I describe Tomsk. There's a short story by Chekhov called "Na chuzhbine" that involves a Russian army officer lambasting France and the French culture of his friend over lunch. I remember reading it last fall in Kazan for literature class and discussing how offensive it is to criticize foreign peoples and places. I will try to be more attentive in future. Your virtual slap on the wrist is noted :)
ReplyDeleteGood job, Bela!
ReplyDeleteIn other news, Harry Potter for President!!!