Senegal

 

Atlantic Records

 

Interviewing a local

For school I had to interview a local. I chose to sit down and speak with my soccer coach. Here is the story: 

Cartagine earned just one point in the standings on Saturday as they tied Casellina 2-2 in the Florence Third Division semi-pro league. Cartagine were stunned early, facing a 2-0 deficit going into half time.  They were able to fight back 2 goals in the second half, but missed out on three points at home against the worst team in the league. 

Cartagine coach Mossenakhi said this game was a different story from the first meeting between the two teams 6 months ago, when Cartagine easily won 3-0. To his surprise Casellina added new talent from higher divisions.

“It was a difficult game for us,” said Mossenakhi, “I think before the game my players were sure they were winning this match. We can’t take any game lightly.”

Cartagine now sits in 2^nd in the standings, holding a narrow 5-point lead over Colonnata, a team that has played one fewer match.  Cartagine needs to stay in 2^nd place in the standings over the final 9 games to secure a spot in the 2^nd division next season. If they slide to 3^rd or lower, they will have to win the playoffs between the teams sitting in 3^rd-6^th, a situation that Mossenakhi wants to avoid at all costs.

“It is very important that we hold our position in the standings. Our goal is to move to the 2^nd division, where the teams are more professional, the players are more famous, stronger, and faster. I know we are capable, we just have to focus,” said Mossenakhi.

Cartagine had just 5 points in the middle of last season when Mossenakhi took over as head coach. By the season they improved to 21 points. Mossenakhi said he was able to change their mentality, technique, tactics, and play. Now the team sits in 2^nd place and has a good chance to advance to a completely professional league. He said they have made significant improvements, and a disappointing draw shouldn’t take away from that.

“Before I started coaching this team they were afraid to win. I gave them the confidence that they needed. This year they are afraid to lose. As you can see, when you are afraid to lose, you win,” said Mossenakhi.

Mossenakhi used specific techniques to change the team mentality. He played as a professional in his home country of Iran, in the Seria A league, and was a member of the Under 21 Iranian National team. He used this experience to teach them new tricks. He makes sure that each practice is different from the last, and he demands intensity at every session.

“I yell a lot. A lot,” said Mossenakhi.

 Most importantly, according to Mossenakhi, is that his players feel comfortable communicating with him. For 30 minutes before each practice he allows players to ask any questions they want, whether it be about playing time or tactics.

“My players need to have fun. When they do they play more confident. Plus winning is fun, and they love to win,” said Mossenakhi.

To give extra incentive for players to perform Mossenakhi offers a bottle of wine to those who score. A few of the players who came from the 1st division also receive pay, but Mossenakhi said the team is in need of a sponsor in order to have a long-term successful club.

In order to find a sponsor the team has to win the 3^rd, 2^nd, and 1^st division, and then the sponsor will automatically find them. If they can accomplish this, Mossenakhi envisions the team having a long-term project with a strong youth system and a deeper bench.

“The first thing that we need, besides the coach and the system, is the money. If fans can see that our team is growing and winning, it will be a good investment for the sponsors,” said Mossenakhi.

Mossenakhi is confident that Cartagine will earn a sponsor in the next five or six years. He trusts his players and believes they can compete in any division. He says that they haven’t had the right coach before, but now they are committed.

“Even when it’s cold and raining we have a lot of players. They enjoy coming to practice because they are motivated and they are learning,” said Mossenakhi.

Mossenakhi acknowledges that the players have lives outside of soccer. He schedules practice at 7:30 pm so that players can come after work and school. Six of the players are students; four attend Universities and two attend high school. The team also has four police officers, a doctor, and a few that work in the market.

“They are normal people. Somehow they finish their job and come to practice. They love futbol, and they need to work,” said Mossenakhi.

Mossenakhi also has work outside of soccer. He works outside of San Lorenzo selling leather jackets. He first got the job to make some money on the side while he played soccer. After 15 years he hasn’t left. The job makes him happy, and he likes the location.

Business has been bad for Mossenakhi’s store over the past few months. He says that this is low season for shoppers. In the summer, he hopes that business will be much better with the tourists.

“Right now everywhere in the world there is a problem for business,” said Mossenakhi, “I’m sure that people will come in the summer. We have some of the best leather here. It’s authentic, 100% Italian. I’m not lying.”

The leather store is walking distance from Mossenakhi’s apartment in Piazza Signoria next to the Uficci. He lives by himself and spends most of his free time watching sports, movies, or listening to music.

“My whole life I’ve been by myself. Maybe someday I will settle down, everybody does. I’ve had a few girlfriends here and there, but I’m still living alone,” said Mossenakhi.

Mossenakhi loves fishing. His passion for the outdoors was part of the reason why he moved to Montana for four years in his late 20’s. He had friends in Montana, and he moved there to study at a coaching academy. He said moving to the United States was difficult for him because it’s a new culture, and he’s used to an older culture.

“I think America is a beautiful, modern country. But here we communicate with each other more easily. Here if you go to a bar three times you are friends with the bartender and you get special prices. They ask about your daily life. In the States if you go 10 times to the same place you’re still a stranger,” said Mossenakhi.

Mossenakhi traveled to Miami, California, New York, and Texas during his time in the United States. He said that each state is like it’s own country, and he chose the wrong state in Montana. He enjoyed the other states, but he wasn’t used to the cold weather and the amount of racist and homophobic people in Montana.

“Everyone asks me, ‘Are you gay? Are you gay?’ No I am not. I have no problem with the gays but am 100% straight. I was just wearing normal clothes, like today; yellow pants, leather shoes, button up shirt, and jacket,” said Mossenakhi.

Mossenakhi said that once you live in Florence you won’t leave. The people in Florence are completely different from the rest of Italy. He claims it’s a much better city to live in than Rome, or any other city in the north or south.

“It’s hard to find both an artistic and historical city like Florence,” said Mossenakhi,”We’re the city of language, art, fashion, and passion. The people know each other, take care of each other, and it’s much safer. If you live here, you will stay forever.” 

Mossenakhi did admit that his dream is to coach in either England or Germany in the first division. He says there are more goals scored and the game is faster in those leagues. He plans to return to Coverciano, a prestigious coaching academy, in order to earn his A license so that we will be qualified. Right now he has a B license. In the meantime, Mossenakhi is focused on Cartagine advancing to the 2^nd division.

“Maybe someday I will coach in Germany or England. I will need to study a lot more. But for now I will focus on Cartagine. I cannot complain; I am living the dream. I believe this team can do something big,” said Mossenakhi. 

The Locker Room

Middle school girls ran the track that surrounded the muddy grass. Their coach couldn’t have been much older than me. He continuously peeked over in my direction. I moved behind the stands and found a quiet, covered place to sit on the cement. The wind blew. I held my Italian homework tightly. A woman approached me while holding her daughters hand. She grinded out a question between her clenched teeth. In that moment I spotted the girls locker room that I was neighboring. I struggled to breathe.

“I don’t speak Italian,” I told her in Italian. I told her the name of my team, “Cartagine.” She corrected my pronunciation and pointed me in a different direction. While she watched me, I hesitantly followed her commands. As soon as she was out of sight I turned back around. The sky slowly transformed from dusk to black. Parents, wearing heavy winter coats, scarves, and hats, joined me near the track. My head and hands were bare and I wore a light black jacket. I tried not to shiver.

I stopped an athletic looking man as he was walking into the locker room below me, “Perfavore, Cartagine?” I looked down at the ground.

One of his eyebrows rose. Pause. “Ah futbol?” He was a track runner.

“Grazie.”

The girls ran at least 12 more laps around the track before I saw another group of men enter the locker room. I stood up, approached them halfway, then turned back around. I let them go. Four more laps around the track. I grew tired of tapping my feet. I approached an older looking man with a big bag who had just arrived. “Cartagine?”

“Si,” he responded, and motioned me to follow him. He was president of the club.  While walking through a narrow, scarcely lit tunnel he asked me where I was from. Everything else he spoke was gibberish. He showed me the locker room. It was painted white and didn’t have any lockers, just a small bench hugging the walls. There were two players in the room with the coach, who appeared to be in his early 40s. He spoke English well. The team played semi-pro in the “Terza Categoria”, but I still had no idea what that meant.

More players flooded into the locker room. The coach told me I could change.  I was the first to do so. I stood, faced the corner of the white room, and removed my clothes until I was fully nude. Everyone proceeded to change with me. None of them took off their underwear. The coach went into another room and changed himself. He returned to the packed room in a bright blue sweat suit with a whistle around his neck. He quieted the team and began to talk in Italian. He said something along the lines of, “We have a new player. He is from America and doesn’t know Italian. Please welcome him and…”

He was cut off by one of the players next to me, “American?” He humped the air, “I fucked an American!” All the other players laughed and cheered him on. One of the players had no front teeth. Another was no younger than 50. The rest were athletic, in their 20s. The coach continued with his speech. He spoke fast and had a lot to say. He was serious. My Spanish helped me understand about 5% of what he said. He told the players not to complain about coming off the field and to stay focused after they make a mistake. The players were attentive. Everyone stood up; it was time to play.

The warm up was slow, though each stride in the mud through off my balance. My ankles twisted with each step. The foot that I broke last year carried a lot of stress. I followed the captain’s stretches, which my trainer in the United States would say are bad for your knees. Players cracked jokes to each other. I forced out a few laughs. My eyes told a different story. The coach blew his whistle and pointed to the corner of the field. He didn’t stop blowing it until everyone was there. We ran for 30 seconds then counted our pulse for 15 seconds. I had the best recovery rate on the team.

During practice we passed the ball around the cones, crossed and finished at goal, and worked on our defensive shape as a team. I constantly pointed and screeched, “Si!” The players gave me thumbs up and nods, while the coach constantly shouted, “Bravo Trevor! Bravo!” I was a part of the defensive unit, playing outside defender. I intercepted passes, got into tackles, and kept possession of the ball. On one play the ball was played through the center defenders. I covered for them and got stuck in on a hard tackle to stop a goal. The forward fell to the ground, held his leg, and screamed at the top of his lungs while he rolled back and forth on the mud. Players gathered around him. “Tranquilo,” one of the players told me. He meant for me to calm down. My face flushed. Practice was over.

All of the players jumped into the shower. I didn’t think to bring a towel. One of the players told me I could borrow his. This time the players were nude, with the exception of their feet. They all wore flip-flops. I tried to enter barefooted. The players all looked down at me in disgust. “No, no, no!” one player shouted while shaking his finger. He pointed at my feet, then the shower floor, then shook his finger again. The players argued over who would let me use their flip-flops. I stood their naked, my feet exposed, waiting. The same player who let me borrow his towel gave me his flip-flops when he was done. The players handed me the shampoo. I put it in my hair. “No, no! That’s what you use if you are balding!” Three players rinsed off while the rest were putting on body wash waiting. We all shared the three shower nozzles at once. When I was done I borrowed the towel. It wrapped my body like I was wearing a robe with a hood. Everyone had one. They looked like they were all about to enter a boxing ring. I decided not to fully wear it; instead I wiped my body with it. My coach was waiting for me. He offered me a ride to the train station.

I sat in the back seat silently as my coach and another player, who drove the car, carried conversation. He drove safe for an Italian. When we arrived at the station, I held my duffle bag in my right hand and my muddy cleats in my left. “Do you want a beer?” my coached asked. He read my mind. We entered a small, well-lit bar with an old man behind the counter.  We both picked out bottled German beer from the refrigerator. Coach paid the six-euro and the old man opened our bottles. We sat at a small, round, wooden table. My coach explained to me that he worked at a soccer convention in Montana for four years.

“I hated Montana” he said, “The people there did not like strangers. The guys did not like when I talked to women. They were jealous. They said, ‘We don’t go to Italy and take your girls.’ It just wasn’t a friendly place.”

I tried to keep pace with his drinking. He finished just before me. He continued to explain to me that Miami is a much better place. The girls there like Italians, the weather is nice, and the parties are great. Similar to Florence in the summer he said. “You have to come back when the weather is better. People get naked. We take trips to the beach. It’s crazy.”

He explained the party scene. Apparently American girls come to Florence to meet Italian guys and end up leaving with Bulgarians, Bosnians, and Romanians who pretend to be Italian.  He had it all figured out. We left the bar and walked through the train station. He pointed out a blonde girl’s ass before parting ways.

“If you need anything, a place to stay, somewhere to hang out, I live in the center of town. Just give me a call.” I might take him up on that offer.

Sculpture Drawing

Here is the drawing I mentioned in my last post.

Nightlife, art, soccer

It’s been just over a week now since I’ve arrived in Florence. My host family lives relatively far from the Center of town, where the Duomo is located and where most students living abroad stay. At first I was disappointed, because that is the most beautiful area of Florence with a lively nightlife. But I’m now glad that I live far from there. Basically all American students studying abroad live in that 7-block radius, and never really leave. I’m experiencing the real Florence, while they’re experiencing a fantasyland of sorts. Hardly any Italians actually go to the center of town unless they work there or are looking for American women to hit on. It’s really just Americans partying with other Americans. That’s not what I came to Florence to do. Meanwhile my area seems like it’s in the middle of nowhere, but there is actually a lot of nightlife around me. You just have to look in the right places. Granted, I’m still too intimidated to actually go in… but I’ll let you know when I do.

So far classes are going well. I take the bus to school every day. Classes are usually walking tours of museums and churches in Florence. I’ve never really been one to appreciate art, especially gothic and renaissance art in churches. But that was before I came to Florence. Once I saw how magnificent the architecture and paintings are I was mind blown. The history of art in Italy is really fascinating. And the art itself is absolutely unbelievable.

I’ve never been a drawer. I can’t draw anything past stick figures. But I decided to audit a drawing class at night. They said it was better if you have never drawn before because then you wouldn’t have bad habits that you learn at American schools. The studio is the most historic Florentine atelier still in active use. They teach a historic technique that all the great artists used, like Michelangelo. Apparently they are the only place in the world that teaches this technique. I spent 3 nights in the studio for two hours drawing a sculptured woman with no head. Although my drawing was nowhere near complete, I was impressed with my ability to draw out the outline of her body from a strange side angle. I will post a picture soon. The teachers said students should never start painting until about a year of experience in drawing.

I was planning to continue auditing the class, but it coincides with soccer practice. I met with a 20-year-old Italian goalkeeper today who speaks English pretty well. He took me to his family’s auto shop and showed me the field I’m going to be practicing on. The team is called Cartagine and they are in the Terza Categoria. I’m still trying to figure out whether they are a semi-pro team or a competitive amateur team. If they are semi-pro I won’t be able to play in games with them because I would lose eligibility at Colorado College. Horst, my coach at Colorado College, is trying to figure it all out. I think he’s starting to worry a little bit that I might sign some papers that I shouldn’t be signing. But I haven’t even gone to one practice yet so I think we’re jumping the gun a little bit. The Italian team speaks no English and I won’t know anybody there. They play on this terrible muddy field that apparently is good for Florence. This is by far the most intimidating thing that I have ever done. I’ll tell you about it on my next blog.

On a different note, I’m just starting to get to know my way around town. This is after I got lost on the bus as it looped all the way around Florence. The bus driver knew no English, but I remember my host parents telling me if you get lost, stay on the bus until it returns to the station. I also got lost on a run trying to find the river. I ended up running past the airport before realizing I had gone way too far. I was terrified but kept my cool and decided to run back the route I came. I gave up on finding the river. Then on my way back home I ran into the river! Goes to show how confusing navigating Florence can be. All the streets are windy and look the same. Getting lost is the best part of traveling though because you see places no tourist would ever think to go. The area I was running in was very local.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. It feels strange writing a blog. I’m never sure if what I’m writing is actually interesting. Nonetheless, as requested by my mom and Sutton, I will continue to update the blog as much as possible. Ciao! 

Dinner and Slippers

My biggest fear about coming to Florence was that the food proportions would be too small. Boy was I wrong! I just finished a 5 course meal that my host family prepared for me and my roommate, containing pasta, salad, chicken, and fruit for dissert. It was incredibly good and incredibly big.

My host family is a husband and wife, probably in their 50’s.  They hardly know any English, but I’ve found that my Spanish is working surprisingly well. I was able to carry out a conversation with them throughout dinner.  The languages are remarkably similar. Until I start my Italian class next Monday, at the very least I will be able to practice my Spanish.  My family doesn’t care what we do during the day, or how late we stay out at night. They only have two rules; we have to be home for dinner every night at 8, and we have to wear slippers in the house. Slippers and dinner are a big deal to Italians. We are allowed to leave after dinner.

I wasn’t able to sleep at all on my flight, and the transfer in Paris airport was intimidating.  I was worried that by the time I reached Florence I would pass out in the middle of the day. But my soon to be art history professor wouldn’t let me. She said I had to explore the town and wait to go to bed until tonight so I would get adjusted to the time difference. I had no trouble staying awake. Florence is the most beautiful city I have ever seen. It has the feel of a small, accessible town, yet at the same time it is pretty big and very vibrant. The food is spectacular and the people are beautiful.

My Colorado College soccer coach got me in touch with a coach in London who has a connection in Florence. I’m going to get in touch with him this week in order to play for a competitive team in Italy, and possibly London as well. That is my dream. I really hope it works out. If it doesn’t though, 3 other kids in my ACM group play college soccer, and we’re going to play pickup futsal with locals regularly.  I’m grateful that I play soccer because it really is a great way to connect with people despite the language barrier. My host mother, Nadia, says she hates soccer because the men always talk about it. My host father (I forget his name, I need to figure that out tomorrow) loves FUTBOL!

On another note I went into a gym today with my roommate to see how much is would be to get a membership for two months. They cut us a deal. 120 Euros per month. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? That’s more than $150 per month! The gym wasn’t even that great. It smelled like Italian sweat. But it was pretty funny getting a tour. The guide didn’t speak English and my hair looked completely out of place. Everyone was starring.  I didn’t mind though.
Oh, and there’s a weird coincidence within the students in my ACM group. Apparently two people are engaged, and not with each other. And there will is more news that I can’t post publicly yet. It is crazy! Keep in touch with my blog and you will find out soon.

Xoxo,

Gossip Trev