Bubble Soccer

bubble 6

So yesterday I tried bubble soccer for the first time. A new concept to me personally, I have only heard about it a few weeks ago, but it sounded interesting enough to jump on the opportunity, not to mention the feeling of safety conveyed by the word “bubble”. Seriously, add “bubble” to anything and I bet anyone would be willing to try it no matter how cautious and unadventurous they were. Bubble mountain climbing, bubble sky diving, bubble shark swimming, you name it. (Actually after naming them I’m ot so sure, but bubbles are cozy, you get the idea.)

I went with a group of family and friends, we were split into two teams, the blue team and the red team – I was in the blue team. There were two sizes of bubble to choose from depending on your height and physique, so it was kind of unfair when you, wearing a small bubble and struggling to move, got hit by a bulldozer coming your way in the form of a giant red bubble. However, and the fun of it is, it doesn’t matter. Once you get the first hit and even fall down you realize: You’re inside a bubble, you can take all the knocks you have time for and fall down as many times as you have to. It’s beautiful, really.

The first game we played was good old football. Of course, being inside your bubble means you’re partially visually impaired with limited mobility. As soon as I heard the whistle I saw an army of circle shaped objects stuffed with people running everywhere. I started running aimlessly as I couldn’t see the ball anyway, and the next thing I knew I was on the ground and my shoe came off. Of course when it’s your first fall your hands are already full with the challenge of getting up, so a flying shoe is adding insult to injury. Thankfully though, the shoe was close enough that it wasn’t a problem. Anyway, we played football for 12 minutes, and we, the blue team were victorious.

For the second game each team had to choose one of the teammates as a “King”, and just like in chess, his teammates had to protect him while the other team tried to knock him down. We played 3 rounds, we won the first round, and the second, and in the third they said we had to choose a “Queen”, which means a girl must be chosen, and since our team had only me and a slender, fragile-looking 17 year-old, so it had to be me, despite not being so steady on my feet, especially after being knocked down more times that I had counted during the previous games. But, thankfully we had a good defense and our team managed to knock their queen down before they could get to ours, and we won again.

The last game was Sumo wrestling. I was up first, my opponent was a irl my height but she couldn’t have weighed much more than 40 kilos so I thought: “I can take her down.” Somehow though she pushed me out of the ring, which was pathetic, and surprising. Well, maybe she had more willpower. In my defense, I hadn’t slept in 3 days. What was even more pathetic is that she herself was eliminated next by the aforementioned fragile 17 year-old, who was her sister by the way. I guess you could ever guess how these things will turn out, but of course the final winner was one of the big tall guys, the strong eating the weak, there was little use for wits on the playground, it was all bone and muscle. The winner was one of the red team, for a change.

It was a fun experience, but thinking about it later on made me think of the other metaphorical bubbles we wrap ourselves inside in life. They are not that different. They shield you from people, they make you more resistant to life knocks which might make you think you’re stronger than you really are, and most importantly: they are exhausting. They make it hard to breathe, and you know you’re better off without them. And you know you can’t stay in your bubble forever, but you also know it’s a good resort from time to time.

For more info on bubble soccer in Amman visit: https://www.facebook.com/ATeam.JO?fref=photo

يحدث في ملاعبنا

بمناسبة العفن “الرياضي” الذي حدث في ملاعبنا مؤخراً، محمد طمليه يحييكم من وراء القبر، وهديكم نصاً له كان قد كتبه منذ سنوات بعنوان “يحدث في ملاعبنا”، وكون التاريخ يعيد نفسه، أو كوننا لم نتغير كثيراً كشعب منذ ذلك الوقت إلى الآن ، يكون النص مناسباً للحدث كما لو كُتب اليوم

لا نريد كرة قدم، ولا أي نوع من الرياضة: يلائمنا اللهاث أكثر، وكذلك السعال والترهل وانحناء الظهر

ما هذا السخف الذي يحدث في المباريات؟ قناعتي أنه سخف مدروس، وانحطاط مع سبق الإصرار، ووسخ يحظى برعاية جهات مريبة: جهات ترى أن اللاعب الثاني عشر في الفريق هو الرعونة، وأن الحكم الحقيقي للمباراة هو حفنات من المتهورين والمرتزقة تم توظيفهم في المدرجات لإنتاج ضغائن غريبة عجيبة: أنا لا أقصد فريقاً دون فريق، ولا جمهوراً دون جمهور… كلنا حمقى، والرائحة الكريهة واحدة لكل الأنوف

مجرد “كرة قدم”، وكلنا نعرف أنها كرة قدم باهتة ورديئة ومثيرة للضحك والشفقة، ولكن “الزعران” والحمقى مصممون على تحويل اللعبة إلى مناسبات لتداول “سياسة ساذجة ومنحطة”.

لا نريد رياضة، وأعتقد أن إلغاء الملاعب بات ضرورة ملحة طالما أنها أصبحت منابر يستطيع أي مأجور أو متهور أن يستثمرها للفحيح

لا نريد كرة قدم، ولسنا في حاجة للمزيد من أسباب الاهتراء

Good Sportsmanship روح رياضية

Getty images

So today I heard this story about two Jordanian guys who got into a fight that left one of them with a scar that will perhaps stay with him all his life. The reason: they were cheering two different teams in a World Cup match.

Now, I’m trying to think of more ridiculous things to brawl over, let alone spilling blood, and honestly nothing comes to mind and I’m pretty sure there few things that are as absurd.

The thing is: it’s a sport, if the team you’re cheering for wins, you gain nothing, it makes you feel good but there’s really nothing in it for you. Likewise, if the team you’re supporting loses, you in turn lose nothing. Why? Because you’re not cashing in on the reward and major teams won’t be fighting over you because you weren’t in the field demonstrating your great talent, you were just sitting somewhere screaming at a screen and cussing out players who most probably would live and die without knowing you ever existed. And, at the end of the game those players will congratulate each other while you will take it outside with the guy sitting next to you.

Football is, after all, a game. A global game that’s supposed to bring people together because they all appreciate some fair and entertaining play, it’s not a war, and even if at times it would look like a war, it’s not your war!

So, chill out, kick back and enjoy the game, and may the best team win!

The Sport CommentatorESS

I’mnot sure what was I thinking that led me to this idea but it sure reminded me of  Rand’s Post. What if there was a sport women commentator? I know many girls, including Rand, could do a great job, so the following imaginary commnentary is only meant as a joke that’s not to be generalized, so all the female football fans out there are advised to take it with a pinch of salt…

“Hello everyone, lovely day here at the Camp Nou stadium in Barcelona, we’re here for the long awaited match between FC Barcelona and Real Madrid. Lovely weather today but of course you decided to stay home to watch the game, and I know that this might be annoying to your ladies but here’s a tip, a shopping spree could just get you off the hook, if you ask me I sometimes forget I’m even married when I go shopping! so whip out those credit cards if you really wanna enjoy this! [to someone beside her: Okay okay I can see the teams entered the field I was just making a point] ihem, so as you can see the teams are in and OH! Look at those cute kids standing in front of them, I think my uterus just skipped a beat! I have two lovely boys of my own, 7 and 2, the younger looks just like that cutie pie standing in front of Ramos, and look at that girl holding Puyol’s hand, isn’t she precious? I would kill to have a little girl like her, well, not literally of course but, you know what I mean…


So, the game kicks off, the ball is with Messi, you know speaking of Messi I’m not a fan of long hair but it really agrees with his face, he passes the ball to Xafi, great season for Xavi, I really want to like this guy but he reminds me of my ex who was a total jerk! Raul cuts him off but again Iniesta manages to… what! Wait wait, this is all happening so fast! Okay, now it’s with Ronaldo, and you know that shampoo he promotes? Well, the director here is hushing me, okay I’m not gonna say anything commercial!  But you know I wonder when will football players get into the movie scene, it’s weird we don’t see much of that, right? I mean it could be a way to get more women and Americans to watch football, but then I think that.. what? Okay, it seems that someone scored, I think it’s Barcelona and I daresay it’s… Messi, yes it’s definitely Messi! Okay, so here  we go again… 

حوار الكبار

This was written by my brother Mohammad, the biggest football fanatic I know!

في إحدى الأزمان وفي إحدى البلدان الأوروبية….. اتي تشتهر بمصارعة الثيران والدوريات الكروية…. والبعض يقول أنها إسبانيا وفي رواية أخرى أنها كتالونية…….يروى أنه حدث جدال بين حكيمين من حكماء المستديرة السحرية…ألأول إسمه شافي والثاني راؤول قائد الكتائب المدريدية….

حيث قال شافي حينها: قل لي يا صاحب الأرقام القياسية ما هي حال الريال؟ فإني أراك من كثر القلق لا تنام! التف راؤول إليه بنظرة حزن وحسرة وكأن مشاعره داستها الاقدام ثم رد بكل احترام: حال الريال كحال مظلوم ينتظر حكم الإعدام…فإني أذكر يوم كنا ملوكاً والان تمت إهانتنا بأرخص الأقلام…دعك من همومي وحدثني عنكم فقد سمعت أنكم تلقبون بفريق الأحلام!

ابتسم شافي وقال: نعم الأحلام…لدينا كل ما نحتاج إليه فعندنا ميسي الرهيب الذي لايأتي بالهدف إلا إذا كان عجيب…و انيستا الفنان الذي حين سجل هدفاً أصبحت سيرته على كل لسان وبويول الأسد الذي وعدني أن ينجب ولد لكي يبقى ليحمي من بعده هذا البلد…لدينا كل هذا ولكن أتدري ماذا فقدنا؟

قال راؤول باستغراب: ماذا؟ فرد شافي: منافسنا!!!….كان لنا منافس عتيد…كنا نلقبه بالصعب العنيد…كان اسمه ريال مدريد…ولكن الان لا أدري أيهما أقوى! هو أم بلد الوليد!؟…. فقل لي يا راؤول ما حاجتنا بكتيبتنا إذا لم يعد مدريد؟

راؤول: أحب أن أفيدك بمتى نعود ولكنني لا أعرف الان عن مدريد إلا بحدود فقد قضيت اخر عمري على مقاعد الاحتياط بالقعود…وكأنني ليس لي أي وجود! أنت تبكي فقدانك لمنافس وأنا فقدت هيبتي بعد أن كنت محطم السدود!

قاطع راؤول صوت لا يدري من أين جاء وهو يقول: غني لهم يا ناكر المعروف!!! ر

صاح راؤول: من هنا؟ فرد الصوت: أنا شنايدر الجريح!!! الذي منكم أخذت التسريح وفي إيطاليا لا أسمع إلا المديح! فكيف لكم أن تفوزو في أراضيكم وليس فيكم خير حتى للاعبيكم؟

فالتفت شافي فجأة أثناء انشغاله بغناء أغنيته المفضلة”نص نص دزينة” وقال: أنا راحل من هنا لأن عندي تمرين…سوف أترككم تتجادلو لسنين فلن تجدو حلاً للبرشا المنيع الحصين الذي للكبار هو مهين…ولكن يا راؤول الحزين إحذر شنايدر فإنه حقاً قد أهين!!! و أتمنى لكم العودة فإني في الكامب نو هناك أنتظر المنافس القديم فإن له مني اشتياقاً ولوعة وحنين … خ

فخاف راؤول من شنايدر ولكن قبل هروبه قال: كلمة واحدة حقولهالك!!! برررللم برررلللم تيرارارارا!!!

والسلام عليكم!

محمد عليوات

Football Social Structure (A New Age Theory)

Football Social Structure (A new age theory)

After watching tonoght’s game which I found to be extremely frustrating on several levels, I came out with a conclusion, you may say a theory, that soccer too has its own social strata. The theory suggests that soccer teams are divided into 3 main classes…

1- The Proletariat

These are the teams that nobody knows about, but every once in a while one will go wild beating big teams, in which case this proletarian team is described as a “Black Horse”. Case in point, Croatia in World Cup1998, Turkey in World Cup 2002 and Greece in Euro 2004. Personally, I like those when they are African or something I can relate to like an Arab team or something. While when it comes to European team I don’t like to see many black horses since European football is generally dull so I like to watch big teams playing like Germany and Italy. It’s more of a battle full of schemes and tactics than a display of skills…

2- The Middle Class

This might be considered by some the worst of all classes. These are the ones who play really good matches and score really good results that make them seem like strong competitors but they rarely win in the end. Case in point, Spain and Holland. It seems like those teams have something in them that prevents them from going through and making it to the real jackpot. This could be really bad because people don’t remember them for an exceptional achievement like the aforementioned black horses, neither do they take home a cup for History to remember them with. Unfortunately for those, History doesn’t celebrate runner-ups. Sad, unfair, but true. Looking at the bright side, teams that belong to this class do get much credit and praise from sport experts. You know the ones who would tell you who scored the third goal in 1979 for a team nobody knows against a team no one cares about other than the players’ folks). I personally don’t recommend being a fan of those teams for the accumulation of disappointments might lead to serious heart problems. Get  a grip!

3- The Upper Class

Those are the teams that made history and continue to do so whether they starred or sucked. Case in point, Italy in World Cup 2006 (Mind you, I’m a fan too, but the truth should be said) The members of this class have been limited to few teams for a long time now.  I believe in the power of History, and believe those guys depend on that greatly. Of course there are subclasses of those, like “Captain Tsubasa” kind of team (the one player team) such as France who waits for the emergence of a team leader like Zaidane and before him Platini to lead the way to the gold. While in the case of Germany, those guys are the ones who play when the opponent is worth the effort. So, they are just like their famous BMW (Sorry this one might be a little culture specific: أعطيها بتعطيك وشد عليها بتقلب فيك )

Anyway, football is hugely unpredictable and abide by no rules, so there’s no telling whether a big fish like Germany or Italy or a black horse like Russia will win the tournament. But according to this theory, I’m expecting Germany to win the cup. Dull, typical, but I think we all had enough with the black horses in 2004…

P.S: I’m with Spain. That the only probability that would change the rhythm. Personal opinion!

Originally Posted on June 22, 2008 on  http://oeliwat.jeeran.com/archive/2008/6/601091.html

Talking Soccer

These are some parts of the conversations taking place between me and my brother, the die-hard Holland fan, during and after the world cup…

After the semi-final:
He: What a farce! Italy to the final…
Me: Yeah, say whatever you want, they won and they are up to the final!
He: Don’t make me start! Who did they beat? Ghana played better than them and were denied 2 penalty shots, they tied with the U.S, and they won over Czech who were palying wothout 2 of their top-drawers!
Me: Still, Italy won, and Holland is out of the tournament!
He (provoked): They were out after losing for Portugal! who did Italy play with before the won over Germany? Australia? Ukraine? Even their “victory” against Australia was scandlous, a penalty in the last minute! I don’t know what was Totti so happy about! You know I want to watch the final match with that friend of mine, an Italian fan, so I’ll get to give him a kick each time France scores, and each time Italy scores as well!
Me: Tell you what?
He: What?
Me: Da da da!
After the final:
He: I hate Italy! I hate it to the bone!
Me: take it easy! They deserved to win, they were better…
He: better? Did you watch the game? Germany in 2002 was more convincing to me than Italy!
Me: Nooooo you are exaggerating!
He: No I’m not! (Then he gives me a full report of the two teams road, in 2002 for Germany and 2006 for Italy)
Me: Well… they still won te world cup!
Da da da…

Orignally posted on  Wednesday, July 12, 2006 on http://oeliwat.jeeran.com/archive/2006/7/69876.html