Pictures tell a thousand stories-Wk25

That afternoon the sky was gray, but it was glowing softly, warmly.

In a green field in a large village, with the grass already turning yellow, a group of young men vigorously played soccer. They had on bright orange vests, which made a stark contrast to the dull sky that looked as though it was watching their enthusiasm as they welcomed darkness.

Shouts, laughter and stamping feet were mixed with the regular "thud" of the ball being kicked hard, forming a pleasant noise on the otherwise empty field. On the sidelines, a number of young children were watching with excitement. They sometimes mimic the movements of the players, as if they’re going to grow up and play with them some day. A ball, too, was lying on the opposite side, waiting not long to be played.

The field was certainly the locals' favorite hangout. Children and teens, all the work of the kids of that area, poured in after work and school every day with balls, training cones, and a bunch of enthusiasm. But there was no professional coach, and the practice was often supervised by one of the more experienced players. He directs, schemes and inspires players to keep getting better.

Their motivations were not purely recreational -- they also wanted to build team camaraderie. This was the field where they were taught how to play as a team, how to be gracious in victory (and defeat), and that giving up is not an option. Even after the skies darkened and the winds hinted at rain, they stayed, chasing the ball and encouraging one another.

From afar, the houses of the residents with its zinc roofs and coconut trees were like a natural scenery which contribute tranquility in the air. Occasionally, chickens and the happy play of little kids can be heard. That all combined for a humble, but profound, resonance.

For them, this wasn’t only a playing field but a place to grow up, together. This is where their childhood dream of becoming top soccer players began to take shape. No matter the bumpy field or the dried up grass, they could not be contained.

To outsiders that afternoon might've been just a regular day — but to the players on that small village pitch, every moment was a memory. A tale of unity, adversity, and the curlball-lovin' soccer they'll never forget.

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