Another Night Out

Yesterday, like every Saturday, we had a soccer game(2-2 tie). Also-yesterday, like every Saturday, we went out after the game. Electing to go out with the other exchange students instead of the soccer team this weekendI soon found myself in an apartment celebrating a birthday. It's worth noting that this was the...eighth or ninth exchange student birthday in my 7 weeks in Uruguay. There are only about 30 or 35 of us. I feel like I, with a June birthday, was excepted into the program as part of some sort of bizzare affirmative action program.



We head out to Ciudad Vieja in a taxi, which is a long ride (relatively speaking). it usually costs about 100 pesos(5 bucks). When I look at the meter and see it's at about 120 I get pissed. When I see la Plaza Independencia two times I getreal pissed.
"Bro, what are we doing?"
"I don't know where the City is"
"$%^# that, it's one of the most popular clubs in Montevideo and you're a cab driver."

You give most of these guys some obscure corner on the other side of time and they get you there with frightening speed, like they'velived in Montevideo their whole lives or something. Oh wait, they have. But this guy doesn't know where La City is? Naw.

My cab mates, a Mexican girl and a Spanish girl, try to bargain with the guy. He's not having it. I pay him real slowly, letting him know exactly what I think. Of course, we also don't exactly know wherewe are going, sweet. Luckily we were close and find the place without too many problems.
Upon entering the City(this is the boliche I wrote about earlier if anyone recalls) I'm as confused as ever aboutwhy this place has such a good reputation. The other Boliche's I have been to have all sorts of cool screensand lights and shiny objects. The City, not so much, its pretty much a couple of dance floors and bars with asmoke machine and seizure inducing lights.


On the subject of the game yesterday. Another start for me and I played a part in our first goal again. I lasted about 60 minutes but after we went down to 10 men I couldn't keep up. There was an improvement thoughso I'm happy about that. I also had my face spit on for the first time in a soccer game which I guess is a milestone.

Uruguay vs. Ecuador

Here's the video from "The Clash of Titans", Uruguay vs. Ecuador. I'll try to write a short summary and post some of the cooler pictures tomorrow.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=no2Wq0piBFg

RMallion Makes his Debut

Two things to write about this week 1)my experiences at the Uruguay vs. Ecuador soccer match and 2) my experiences in this week's Universitario league game with Club UCU. We'll get to the pros in the next post but for right now it's all about me.



As I've mentioned a few times on here, I've been training with the University Catolica sub 20's for the last 3 weeks or so. I spent the first week on the bench and last weekend our game was suspended due to foul weather. Thus, I woke up Saturday morning hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. I've been trying to work my way into the squad, but it's always tough work establishing yourself in an existing team and I had been hoping I would get a shot to prove myself this weekend.



Before the game the team meets up at the school to set up the car pool situation, it's not America and vehicles are scarce. This game is important the coach tells us. They don't like us and it's hard to play on their field apparently.


I didn't really understand what our coach had meant until we rolled up to the field. For one, it's in Kilometro 23. My community service is in Kilometro 16. My keen observational skills have led me to believe that you don't want to live in a neighborhood that's defining feature is its distance from the center of civilization. The charming Kilometro 23 barrio is very similar to Kilometro 16, lots of trash and animals.



This game is "almost a clasico" the coach said, a big rivalry. I get it now. It's the same sort of situation as when Exeter played the lower-tier prep schools or when Gulfport played some second class team like Biloxi. The jealousy or resentment is the same. The situation is clear, they're poor, we aren't.



They also have fans, a crucial element that seemed to be missing in our home game 2 weeks ago.



Around this point I'm thinking, "should be a good game" while the coach rattles off the starting lineup. Volante y Afuera Derecho-Reechard Malanfan '. Uhhh what? I'm happy, but a bit nervous. I was hoping for a 30 minute run at the end of the game, not a start, and frankly my whole body is sore before the game begins.



The game starts.



2 minutes in-The field sucks. A lot. That said, I feel alright.



6 minutes in-Our left midfielder crosses the ball from the endline. It's a bit deep. I put myself in position. The ball seems to be hanging in the air for a while, or my mind is working faster than normal. I size up my options. I want to shoot but the ball is coming in at an awkward angle. I'm taking it out of the air and having a go at goal. No I'm not, two defenders closing in. My forward is now unmarked. I shape my foot to pass, splitting the two defenders with a first touch pass. Santiago's eyes go wide. As he pulls his leg back I'm looking at the chance, incredulous, it's too good to be true. No it isn't, Santiago buries the volley into the bottom left corner. Gooolll!



I'm instantly surrounded by teammates. The sidelines erupt with cheers, and the bench is cleared as I run to the sideline to meet the chicos halfway. A storybook beginning, and so early at that.



10 minutes-I still feel alright.



12 minutes-I'm getting tired, already? Damnit.



20 minutes- The familiar feeling at the beggining of so many seasons sinks in "conditioning cannot replicate game conditions." I'm damn tired and these boots are killing my feet and feel unstable.



25 minutes-I arrive late to a ball, determined not to be passed I annhilate their left back's thigh. He's down for a little while. Warning from the referee.



30 minutes-I hustle back on defense, deflecting a pass. Unfortunately, the wayward pass finds an oncoming attacker. He cuts back onto his right foot. Our right back has him locked down pretty well but he puts a fantastic curled effort off the far post and in. Tie game. I wish I had a bit more energy, I might have put a little more pressure on him.





40 minutes-Goal UCU. 2-1 again. A bit sloppy but we'll take it.



45 minutes-halftime. I'm dead, I consider telling the coach not to start me the second half but I've got too much pride. Besides, the players seem happy with my performance.

halftime dead



As the second half starts I quickly realize the break didn't do a whole lot for my endurance. I'm still dead. About 10 minutes into the half there's a loose ball in our half. Their player has the edge in getting to it. I arrive late again but determined not to let this guy have a look at our goal. My metal studs slam against his Achilles, man down. The ref is coming towards me. Yellow card. Saw that one coming. My first badge of honor.



A couple minutes later, exhausted and with a yellow card, the sub is inevitable. I'm grateful.



The rest of the game continues without me, a closely fought battle as they hit the post with only a few minutes left. The pressure continues, we're counting down the minutes here. We blow a one on one with a minute left before holding on until the end. The whistle blows, the players cheer, the thrill of victory.



A very satisfying experience and start. I started well but I think I'm going to have to do a bit more extra running on my own before I can play at the level I want to. This week I will begin running to and from practice. I hope to find some new cleats as well.

Pictures

Uploading pictures sucks with this connection but because I love all of you I've put up a few from a week or two ago when we went to the beach.


surfer
some of us enjoying the sunset



our rather ridiculous hous

taken from the roof of our house

The Gym Situation

I was talking on the phone today (May have been yesterday, things get hazy when the phone goes off during a nap) and while I was talking to Dad about the gym I realized I hadn't said anything on here about the rusted out dungeon whose corroding walls are graced so often by my expletives. It's 2 in the morning here, but thanks to my ridiculous class schedule I'm in no rush to get to sleep. So, with the sweet sounds of Jimmy Page's guitar wailing through my headphones, I'm going to write a bit.

A few days after arriving in Uruguay I set off in search of a gym, as you may recall from my previous blogs. My findings were less than reassuring. There have to be a few good gyms in Montevideo, where do all the big guys train? Oh wait, there aren't any big guys. I spend about an hour a day walking the streets to and from class and might see someone bigger than me once or twice a week. I've been told the people in Peru and Paraguay and what not are noticeably smaller as they're indios-Indians. My house mother called me Gulliver a few days ago but I can't wait to wreak havoc on the tiny people in these other countries, Godzilla might be more like it.

Now my search for gyms has led me to four respectable institutions, including one that apparently was only for females ("I can't join? Seguro?"). Of the four one seemed decent, unfortunately it was staffed by one of the first bitchy females-or people in general-I've met here. Since I keeps it reeaall I muttered something obscene in English before continuing my search.

Eventually I ended up at Defensor Sporting Club. The familiar purple and white badge on the sign seemed so comforting (Fredy, Gustavo's dad, was the goalie for the legendary 1976 Defensor squad). I figured I might have some street cred here, and the prices weren't awful. On top of that it's got an outdoor soccer field and an indoor court for Futbol Cinco. SIGN ME UP.

What they didn't mention was that the soccer facilities seem to constantly be occupied by small children or a group of some real winners. To quote 'I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell' : [they seem] like the type of guy who would profess his love for a girl in spray paint across a highway overpass. I bet his busy schedule includes screaming into his pillow and crying himself to sleep because his life sucks." This place really attracts a lower breed of human.

The human mind has a great capacity to reason with itself, to believe what it wants. For example, my cursory inspection of the weight room. I'd imagine it went something like this. "Hey, they don't have a rack of dumbells. But..they do have a bunch of little handles that you get to fasten weights to, COOL!" Honestly, I have no idea why I thought this 100 square foot pit of rusted out weights and shaky benches would suffice. I was a bit too optimistic, hoping for a sort of old school Venice Beach vibe. What I got was more along the lines of weightlifting for the geriatric set.

Some pearls from my training log:

Incline Dumbell Press:
"35kx...Dumbell BROKE, loud noise, stares."
"Dips-note:Wobbly. Feels like an Earthquake"
"Gym closed Saturday and Sunday, sweet"
"Dips(week 2)-x8 reps,
x F*#& this, 0, leaving"


In other news. I have been dubbed Richard Phelps by two separate people in the past 72 hours, we'll see if it sticks. I figure I've got a few more weeks before I become so catabolic they change the nickname to Richard Simmons. I'm playing one of the most catabolic sports known to man. Not soccer, cross-country running. In theory I AM on a soccer team, but it seems more like a "running team with a soccer problem." Four training sessions in and I've touched a ball for about thirty minutes, and I'm looking forward to taking an endurance test tomorrow. Last Wednesday I passed up Azabache-apparently a really cool disco-to be a good little athlete. I'm checking it out after training tomorrow I think so we'll see how that goes.