The Power of Football

When I came to Langa I was told that Project Playground had its own football team, and this made me very happy and excited. I stopped playing football in 2009 and I really missed it. When I then found out that the football team was in need of assistance, I became even happier, because I knew what this meant. It happened so many times before. Football is the ultimate chance to get to know new people. 

I started to play football when I was 7 years old, not really early, not really late. Some people are said to be born with the ball at their feet. I was not one of them. It’s hard to remember what kept me busy before that age, but it was apparently not football. I guess I was just busy being a kid. Free from anxiety and doubt about the future, happy to exist for the moment and live for the day.

My first real football memory is from the hectic summer of 1994. For most Swedes, this summer is something that is very precious and associated with joy and happiness. The Swedish football team flew to the United States of America without any bigger plans of success, unaware that they would become immortal heroes and holy icons for Swedish nostalgia. People were camping, grilling hot dogs, wearing funny hats and listening to the radio while Sweden played amazing football and won a bronze medal that in my tiny eyes shined like purest gold. I was blessed and blissful by the show. Not only by the graceful pirouettes of Tomas Brolin, and the long fingers of Kenneth Andersson, even though they were my biggest heroes. There was also something else there. Something that seemed to exist in another dimension and was bigger than words. Something sacred that not necessarily was painted in the Swedish colors of yellow and blue. What mesmerized me existed in every team that competed and sweated together in the World Cup that warm summer, and I felt how a holy force hit me all the way from Los Angeles, Dallas and Washington D.C. straight through my parents thick TV-screen and into my little body.

Two years later I felt it again. I was once again touched by the force, and this time it was so strong that I wanted to change my hairstyle, all because of the charismatic footballer Karel Poborský, that on his own almost managed to win the Euro 1996 for the Czech Republic. What a player! Two years later I felt it again, and this time it made me paint my face in red and white checkers, so I could show my devotion for the Croatian striker Davor Šuker that with his amazing skills managed to become the top scorer in the 1998 World Cup in France. In 2000 it hit me again and I refused to wear anything else but my Portuguese football shirt with Luis Figo's name on the back - no smell in the world could change my duty and obligation that I now owed him after his magical goal against England in the Euro 2000. After that it happened again. And again and again. It never stopped. Last time it happened was this week when Sweden played against England in Stockholm and Zlatan Ibrahimovic scored four goals, and even though it was a friendly the goals meant so much for Sweden - both on and off the pitch. 

Football is more than a sport. It possesses a power that can build bridges between different cultures and language barriers. It consists of a force, strong enough to unite the poor with the rich, the friend with the enemy and the stranger with the local. This force exists in every football team on the planet - in F.C. Barcelona, ​​in Kaizer Chiefs and in IFK Arvidsjaur. It unites people from all around the world, everywhere in the world, of all ages, classes, genders and nationalities, on the stadium, in the changing room, in the pub, on the street and in front of TV. 

My work together together with the Project Playground football team has only started, but I can already feel that something magical is about to happen. Something from another dimension. Something sacred.

Heroes