Many Languages in Little World

You see it often in international sport. Most especially something popular and universal, like basketball or, say, soccer. Take the European soccer leagues. Teams are conglomerates of players from up to five different continents, and within that they represent a wide variety of nations and languages. Players need to communicate amongst themselves, coaches need to communicate to players, and most essentially, everybody has to bitch at the referees. So what language do they do this in?

I've had four practices now as assistant coach of the boys' varsity team here at AIS, and I've picked up on a few things. First of all, if the head coach and a number of key vocal players are from England, the team is most certainly not a soccer team but a football team. And if they're unproven, then they "have the makings of being a real football team". You want to play it out the back of the pitch. You don't play the game with speed but with pace; you don't kick the ball hard but put pace on the ball or play it with a little bit of pace; you don't sit on the bench if you're left out, you pace. (Ok, maybe not.)

Then it's just a matter of what languages you have in common. Two Israelis on the team might yell Hebrew to each other when they call for the ball. A kid might mutter "maricon" under his breath, and then joke with his Mexican teammate about the dull agility drills their assistant coach put them through. If a striker is from Mongolia, he might hear some instructions in Russian and take to them.

Of course, the lingua franca these days is English. Until China finishes getting its act in gear and dominates the world, the international language will be in our favor, especially when at an American school. (In fact, that probably won't change even after China takes over). Even when our school goes to play Arabic or Palestinian schools (as part of the Peace League), we're more likely to communicate to them through English than common knowledge of Arabic or Hebrew. The other big advance that might render English meaningless is telepathy, or the singularity, but we're not counting on that.

There are also all the common phrases we know in other languages. The coach might lead the count in Spanish, and if a Spanish player tackles an Italian, it's not hard to imagine them getting into it without any common language, just from similar vocab. (Another fictional proposal, since Spanish players don't tackle, and Italian players don't get into it so much as roll on the ground).

And of course, the language of gestures is a rich and varied one that can bridge many gaps. One wonders how Dutch coaches are so successful in Russia, but football is football, right? I mean, unless it's soccer. The fact that half the things said in judo practice are in Hebrew, and the other half are in Russian that I can't hear well because when I'm in practice, I become much stupider, doesn't really keep me from aping everybody else and getting a rough idea of the techniques we're practicing. And if Russian wrestling coaches were to come to the U.S., they'd be just as successful in communicating with the American wrestlers of all types. Like the time the Russian coach at Harvard asked one of the wrestlers at the Fargo camp, an Asian, if he was Chinese.
"No, Japanese," the wrestler answered.
"Konichiwa!" the coach said, and then he rammed a forearm into the back of the kid's head. Classic communication.

In the end, football (of either kind) is just sport. Masturbatory exercises that aren't worth the emotion and the intelligence that they elicit from the greater population as spectators, while also good exercise and focusing tools for participants. And it's far from me to find interest in the theory of sport as societal microcosm.

The interesting thing about being at an International school, as evidenced in the class room or on the football pitch, is seeing both the importance of identity and the irrelevance of nationality. Of course Americans are going to have a step closer in feeling to other Americans, and it's not quite productive when a British fullback on our team calls the Mongolian striker "Mongolian" rather than by name.

The fact that students coexist between all these nationalities - the football team represents Mexico, U.S., England, Cyprus, Mongolia, India, Canada, and Israel - is a piece of proof in the idea that we'll soon be beyond nationality. It's a faint hope, sure, and this school is an exception. But the commonality between all these kids, besides football and English, or whatever other languages they share, is that they're kids, and people.

Or to put it another way; every time I'm abroad, I'm tempted to, upon hearing the question "Where are you from?", say Russia, or that I don't understand English. Partly, that's because I can be a little brat about things. More though, is the desire to not be pinned down or identified. Identity is of course important and malleable and necessary, but perhaps that's just the self-identity, the inner core of who we are. I don't need you to know what I think of myself, or where I'm from, or what I believe, or anything further. Or if I do, I'll share it. In whatever language you like. (Except Finnish. Because it's confusing.)


My first guest of the year is expected sometime in the next few days, so the humorous narrative output is likely to pick up again. Though no nude activities, I hope.