Playing football

During a my childhood and most of my teenage years I had a love-hate relationship with football. On one hand, I really liked the sport, and I followed the Chivas de Guadalajara with the kind of passion that having most of your family following the same club can give you. On the other hand, I have always been a terrible player, to the extent that during most of my childhood I didn’t know how to kick the ball in such a way that it would reach the intended player, let alone score a goal.

Later on, I became relatively tall and developed good reflexes from playing basketball, which made me a better than average goalkeeper in the school (and street) playground, so teams would select me, but I still would be lacking technique. I stopped playing football as I was part of the junior high and high school basketball teams.

Then I moved to Finland. Since football is not the national sport there, kids usually don’t play it to such a high standard, and there are teams for all skill levels, so I found one according mine. I played there and enjoyed it immensely, as it was absolutely non-competitive and we could just have fun. Since I had been watching football for so long, I understood many things in the field that I didn’t know when I was a kid, and finally got over my love-hate relationship with the sport.

Now there’s only love left (mostly).

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