I find myself in the depths of the Philippine Islands. Their sports orientation is very American. Yes, they call the beautiful game "soccer".
I watched a soccer game at the weekend. It was a scrappy affair. Given the temperature of 35 Celsius it was surprisingly fast and furious.
As beads of sweat poured off me, the half time whistle went with the team in red apparently 2-0 down, mainly through sloppy, or, rather, non- existent, defensive play.
Now, I love the Philippines, but it is a curious place. No nation sells its cuisine by giving each dish a lively name and making it a weird combination. You might encounter Chicken Gomgajo (I am making it up) which sounds fine until you find a wholesome chicken coated in Weetabix with strawberry jam and tomato ketchup over it. Their cuisine is unique but hasn't travelled well around the planet.
Another confusing bit is getting a restaurant bill. The invisible signature in the air produces a smile from your waiter or waitress, who imagines you are an artist or a flamboyant singer - or, perhaps practising air guitar. It's the only country in the world, to my knowledge, where you describe a rectangle with two fingers forming an O.
I digress. At half time, young Juan, a slightly dumpy lad, in his red shirt wanders off with the match ball while the manager and the other ten get the half time inspirational team talk. The manager waves his arms and seems to be repeating the same word over and over again. He cuts the air with his hand whilst barking what sounds like "Ba".
It's now clear why Juan turns out on a Sunday. At half time, he juggles. He flicks a ball balanced on his forehead in the air and tries to catch on his heel. He fails. "Fool", I think, but then he succeeds the next three times. He continues his trickery, catching a ball on his calf that he had volleyed 20 yards in the air. Now, that is clever. We should sign him - stuff the Belgian network - look to The Philippines. Juan is truly amazing. If a ball goes 20 yards in the air in the second half and needs catching on the calf, Juan is the man.
Then the second half kicks off. With his team mates in all red, Juan is easy to spot in his green shorts. Juan is sadly embarrassingly bad. He quickly loses interest and more goals fly in. There is no more flamboyancy.
No wonder Philippines with a population of 100 million are ranked 140th by FIFA, sandwiched between Lesotho and Mauritania.
To Juan though, the beautiful game is juggling at half time.
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