By Becca Hurliman
If this field could talk, it’d tell you about the tears it soaked up when the goalie on the opposing team broke his wrist. It would excitedly tell of all the different soccer games that have been played upon it – stories full of victory and defeat, determination and humor. It would also probably mention daily soccer practices that locals watch from the coveted seats available on the few benches at the sidelines.
It’d proudly tell of the view it has of the night sky, and of its prickly grass upon which you can lay to gaze up at the universe.
It would tell you about the buses that make their faithful loops around it only to come to a stop near the bridge out of town near the passengers that congregate under the tree, ready to leave again after the driver has a cigarette.
If this field could talk, it’d tell wonderful stories about the kids in clean school uniforms – white shirts and dark blue pants and skirts – that run across the field during recess. It’d mention the colegio students that walk by after they arrive home in Potrero following their hour-long bus ride from Cartagena in the afternoons. And it would talk about the trees that give it shade in certain places, places where mothers sit to wait for kids in English class and places where men park their bikes and motorcycles. It would tell about lacrosse that is played there three afternoons each week, and the occasional games of pato pato gonzo that take place.
Its voice would get a little sad when it mentioned the plastic bottles and trash that gets tossed upon it and outside its gates – candy wrappers, plastic cups, Coke bottles buried in the mud. But then it would tell you about the kids and volunteers that make a game of collecting the most trash from it, and then it’d probably announce the pick-up soccer game that was soon going to start.
If this field could talk…