The rest of the team seemed excited for this opportunity, but they were nervous and anxious at how good the national team might be, since they were forming a brand new team with the best players from all around Jordan. The U14 Jordanian National team for football was fairly new. The main women’s team was established a few years ago and had a lot of success for a new team so we expected that the new U14 team would be great too.
Finally, the day arrived when we would be playing against the National Team. We all hopped into the school bus and were driven to Sports City, a place that contains all the official national team training and competition facilities. Once we had arrived at the field and we saw the national team warming up, our hearts stopped. They seemed to be extremely talented and well prepared for this supposedly friendly match, and I along with my teammates felt quite intimidated by their skills. We were then too embarrassed to warm up in front of them, as they seemed much more professional than we were.
We reluctantly warmed up, and we dreaded the thought of playing as the time for the match grew closer. Once we were ready, the match began. After the whistle blew, I could feel myself starting to sweat profusely even before I had moved from my position. Considering the fact we started with the ball, we took our chances and charged for the goal. However, we lost control of the ball quite quickly and the national team formed a triangle of three players surrounding me. They all passed to each other leaving me in the middle. If I tried to attack one of them that player would pass to one of the other two players, giving them the chance to score. Because of this I remained in the middle.
Throughout the game, the ball kept going back and forth from our side to their side. I continued to struggle with their triangle attacking strategy; however I came up with a plan. I would pretend to move towards the player who had control of the ball, and then immediately change direction towards the person she passed it to, in order to retrieve it.
The girls were also very aggressive and mean looking. I found it weird and scary that there attitude was like that, and it made me wonder how I would be, if I joined the national team. These girls were hard workers and knew what they wanted. They definitely had the talents and skills to surpass us; however they weren’t fully coordinated as a team yet, because they were all brand new players and did not yet have good chemistry between them.
I used this strategy I developed, although it failed as the players were smart enough not to fall for it. We struggled to continue to do well and to get more chances to score. Both sides tried to take as many scoring chances as possible in order to take the lead. It was a constant battle between both sides, but our team held up a pretty good fight.
Oddly enough, the game ended with 0–0 for both sides. We thought we would lose, but considering our work ethic and constant drive, we managed to save ourselves from defeat.
The coach of the national team was very impressed by our performance and she asked several players with Jordanian passports to join the team. To my surprise, I was one of them.
Chapter 15
First Practice Disaster
I took advantage of the opportunity I was given to be a part of the national team, and attended my very first practice. This practice was considered a second try out, to see how well I fit in with the team, and if I could cooperate well with them.
On the way to my very first practice, from pure nervousness, I could feel my heart beat through my ears. I asked myself several questions; Am I even qualified enough to play with the national team? Should I even be playing with them? Maybe they asked the wrong girl, or maybe it was a mistake. My mother decided to come to the practice with me for moral support, and throughout the car ride we sat in silence.
As we reached the entrance of Sports City, which contains the official stadiums and training fields for all of the different national teams of Jordan, I could further feel my heart beat out of my chest and my body quiver.
Once we arrived, I immediately felt a sharp and mighty cold wind pass by. I wore long training pants with a huge sweatshirt and of course my cleats. As soon as I got out of the car my mother wished me good luck and waved goodbye as she drove away. I then walked onto the field to find other players.
I waited on the field with a couple other players, feeling the cold burst of the wind pass through me as I stood there, shivering and waiting for the practice to begin. I felt shy and doubtful of my Arabic speaking skills, so I decided not to say anything. As more girls started to enter the field, I realized how each player greets one another with a simple handshake. I felt as if that was a strange thing to do, but accepted it when I was offered one.
“Hi, what’s your name?” one girl said in Arabic with a thick tone.
“My name is Taleen. What’s yours?” I replied with my weak Arabic.
The girl looked at me strange, noticing my Arabic and eventually replied “My name is Sama. Where are you from?”
I did not feel like getting into full detail about my complicated background, however I reluctantly replied, “I grew up in the States, but I have several nationalities including being a Jordanian.”
The girl’s head fell into a pit of laughter and she began to feel my uncomfortableness as my cheeks flushed with embarrassment, revealing a slight crimson color. “It is hard to believe you are Jordanian,” she gibed.
I fell silent, and chose not to reply simply because I could not come up with a good enough comeback in Arabic that would make it seem like I was a Jordanian.
A deafening whistle blew, and I, including all the other players, cocked our heads towards the source of the noise. It was a woman with big black curly hair holding a whistle in-between her fingers. It was the coach who had asked me to join the National team after the game against our school.
“Come here girls!” she shouted and all the players formed a semi-circle around her. I joined them standing behind a player with black hair slicked back into a ponytail. She looked behind her to see my face and stared at me with her green piercing eyes and then diverted her attention back to the coach.
I shuddered with chills from the cold weather which then led to me breathing in to my cold and icy hands. It made me long for the warm sensations of a summer sun.
“Alright girls, I have a new member of the team to introduce you to,” she announced in her strident Arabic voice. “Her name is Taleen,” she continued while pointing at me. She gestured for me to stand next to her, so I did. She hooked one arm around my upper arm and clenched tightly with a smile appearing on her face. All the other players looked at me with a smile, and they could tell my shyness as I did not speak at all. I awkwardly smiled along with everyone else and the coach released her tight grip around my body.
“Okay girls for warm up, I want you to run for 20 minutes around the field starting now!” she shouted. All the girls divided themselves into four different lines standing side by side and began running. I then quickly joined them running along with them.
They ran at a pretty good pace, a pace that surpassed and exceeded my endurance ability to constantly run or, jog in their case, for such a long period of time. By the end of those twenty minutes I felt myself panting heavily, trying to get my heart rate back to a normal speed. I felt the heat rise in my body and I could tell my cheeks were flushed with a rosy red color, this time much more vibrant than before. In that moment I became immune to the cold weather and felt myself drenched in sweat. I looked at the other girls who seemed perfectly fine: no red cheeks, no panting or breathing heavily, and not even a drop of sweat; they just had their lips parted slightly to inhale air.
They then proceeded to do dynamic warm ups within the same lines they were previously in when running. This did not help reduce the redness present on my face and, in fact accentuated my tiredness. I found it quite difficult to keep up with the other players, and soon the coach started to realize it. I almost recognized a smirk on her face, as if she wanted me to continuously grow tired or she found it amusing to see me suffer. We performed several different moves that I had neve
r been exposed to, such as open gate, close gate, high knees, and many others. I thought to myself that if this was just the warm up, how difficult the actual training will be?
After we completed the warm up part of the practice we were given a short water break to cool off. I finished off nearly a full six hundred milliliter water bottle while everyone else just drank a few sips. The girl with the green eyes and black hair slicked back into a ponytail approached me.
“So I guess you’re not used to this type of warm up,” she said in Arabic with a slight chuckle.
“Yeah I guess so,” I giggled back.
“My name is Fereyal, and welcome to the team,” she said.
I was surprised that she didn’t comment on my Arabic, and was happy that I felt welcomed by at least one person. Fereyal seemed really sweet, and I felt a bit more comfortable being at the practice because of her kindness.
The coach then blew her whistle again meaning that the water break was over. All the girls ran to her as if she was an army general and all of the players were soldiers. This coach seemed very intimidating, and I wanted to try my best not to upset or disappoint her in anyway.
“Okay girls, we will now commence some fitness training,” she said.
We all formed the same lines again and were instructed that every time the coach gave a command we would have to follow it. However, my problem was I did not understand the commands, because they were said in Arabic, and I was not able to do them on time. I struggled to keep up and I was trying my hardest to remember what command was related to which move. “Lunges!” or “Sprint!” or “High Jump!” or “Jump and hold a squatting position!” were some of the commands that were given.
Because these commands were given in Arabic, I had a late response to each command, as I was watching the other players and trying to understand what we were supposed to be doing. I tried to match up each command with the move we were meant to perform in order to avoid getting into trouble and appearing to be a disorganized player.
At the same time, I felt myself on the verge of collapsing on the ground because my body couldn’t take the immense amount of work it was put under. I casually continued to perform the moves with less energy per round, and finally when we completed the fitness training I immediately sat on the ground. We were given another water break, and once I finally got up to hydrate myself, some of the girls came up to me laughing.
“You should have seen the look on your face! You looked like a lost puppy trying to understand what was going on!” Sama gloated in Arabic.
I looked at her and opened my mouth to say something but closed it as I did not feel comfortable speaking Arabic knowing that she would make fun of me again. I was saved by the whistle, and ran over to the coach waiting for her to tell us what we are going to do next.
“Girls, since we worked on passes during the last practice, this time we will work on formations. We will be working on the formation of four defenders, four midfielders, and two strikers. So I want Natalie, Fereyal, Lana, Tala, Hala, Jana, Lama and Taleen on one team. Then I want Sama, Noor, Sara, Reema, Dina, Nadine, Ayah, and Zeina on another.”
We sorted out everyone’s position and were ready to play. I played as left back, which was a defensive position and the one I usually played. Being a left back meant that the right-footed striker or midfielder would attack on my side, and they are usually the strongest players. I felt nervous, because I knew that this was a national team and the players were going to be strong especially on my side, and I didn’t know if I was capable of stopping them.
The whistle blew signaling the beginning of the scrimmage. The other team that wore bibs, began with the ball in the center of the field. The teammates started passing to the midfielders, who then passed to the defenders in order for the midfielders and strikers on our team to move to their side. This created a weaker defense for us and made it easier for the other team to attack. The defenders of the other team who were gradually starting to lose control of the ball quickly passed it to Sama who was a midfielder.
Sama took the ball and raced to our half of the field where only the four defenders were present. Because she was on my side of the field, I attacked Sama, in order to stop her from continuing down the field. However, she was quite skillful and cut me off very quickly. This resulted in a breakaway, but because I was a fast defender I caught up. I ran as fast as I could in order to catch up to her and to prevent her from scoring. I eventually caught up to her, running beside her and then accelerated enough to be in front of her.
As I was about to retrieve the ball from her, Sama stopped with the ball and took a step in the opposing direction, because she knew she wouldn’t be able to get past me that way. She then proceeded to aim and shoot. When she shot, she left me running in order to have a few seconds to shoot without me by her side. However, I quickly realized what she had done and I ran towards her more quickly than she thought. Just as she took the shot, I extended my leg in front of her, and blocked it. The ball bounced off my leg and flew behind her.
Sama, now lost and confused by what had just happened, stood around looking for the ball, while I ran around her and chased after it. She quickly realized what I was doing, and started tugging at my shirt to stop me. This was considered a foul; however the coach didn’t call it, because she could not see Sama tugging at my shirt from her angle. I pulled away from her loosening from her grip and shoved her off to the side, giving me the chance to take the ball. I took the ball and scanned the field for players that were open. I passed it to one of the midfielders who eventually passed it to a striker who cut through the defenders like a pair of scissors and kicked the ball into the goal past the goal keeper’s outstretched hands.
We continued the game, keeping the ball on the opposing team’s half of the field, minimizing the work for the defenders. The coach blew the final whistle meaning that the match was over.
As I walked towards the coach, I felt Sama behind me. I could feel her eyes glare at me out of pure anger, and decided to ignore her. The coach gave her final remarks and practice was officially over. We were each offered a banana as an after practice snack. I took a banana and started walking out of the field when some of the players came by me.
“You’re really bad at football, I don’t know why the coach wants you on the team,” Sama fretted in Arabic.
“Yeah if you didn’t know it, you can’t shove in football,” Noor hissed. I knew Sama had lied to her friends to make her look like a better player than she actually is.
“It is actually the opposite. If I remember correctly, you’re the one who pulled me by my shirt,” I countered in Arabic.
They all laughed at me as I mispronounced a word, and walked away. I felt tears prickle in my eyes, and a lump form in my throat, but I held in my emotions and went home.
Once I got home my dad came and asked “Hey honey, how was your first practice?”
“It was great!” I exclaimed with a fake and sarcastic smile, and entered my room, immediately locking the door.
Chapter 16
Get Back Up On Your Feet—Literally
The more practices I attended, the more I was being made fun of for my poor Arabic speaking skills–even by the coach sometimes. My problem wasn’t only speaking; it was also understanding. Considering the fact that it was difficult for me to understand the instructions my coach would give me, I soon was called out for it; but this time not by the players but the coach.
At one practice we were warming up in the center circle, jogging in between each other and we did some dynamic warm up moves when the coach told us to. I continuously started doing these moves late and my coach noticed. I felt her glare at me with her darting eyes, and she soon yelled, “Taleen! Run laps around the field until the end of practice now! I expect to see that you have done 50.”
I was shocked that she had wanted me to run 50 laps around the field; however I knew she didn’t want me to actually run that many. It was iniquitous for me to run those laps because the coach
did not understand the real reason why I did not perform her commands on time. I could understand Arabic better than I could speak it, but she didn’t realize that these were new words for me as I was new to these types of exercises. My already tired and pained body couldn’t take 50 laps but I told myself, if I wanted to be a part of the National Team, I would have to deal with the hard work that comes along with it. I ran and ran for the duration of the practice, putting in every last effort I had. I started to drag my feet a little around the 20th lap which created more friction between my feet and shoes. Towards the end of practice the coach called me over. I ran with what little energy I had left towards her, and listened to what she had to say.
“I want you to know and understand that the National Team is no joke,” she said in Arabic with a serious tone. I nodded in agreement as I was too tired to speak.
“This National Team is considered to be the best in the Middle East because we win first place in every Middle Eastern and Gulf tournament. We are even considered to be one of the best in Asia along with China and Japan. So, in order to keep this great reputation we must continue to train hard and listen to the instructions given. Okay?” she continued.
“Yes coach I understand. I apologize.” I said almost breathless.
“Don’t get the wrong idea, I think you have a lot of potential, and that you are a great player, you just need to work hard in practice to be able to excel and continue with the National Team.”
I didn’t even bother to begin to tell her that I just didn’t understand the commands given because they are new words for me, as I was happy that she recognized my talents. I smiled a real smile when she told me that I had a lot of potential as a player and finally left the field and went home.
Big Girls Don't Cry--They Score Page 5
