AASIAT, GREENLAND—We are going to play soccer against a group of elders in a thirty-five-seat stadium. This is all we know, except that this is an Adventure Canada tradition. But when the ship docks in the early morning, there is a group of elders on the pier, dressed in smart navy blue and white uniforms, and clearly ready to play.
The tradition is that the people on the ship play soccer and/or hockey when the ship stops at a community, and the ship has never won. Usually the staff, who are young and fit, especially the zodiac drivers, end up playing, but this time an exceptionally large number of passengers are keen to play. Bear in mind that the temperature hovers around zero Celsius and there is a bitter wind and the uniforms are pale blue T-shirts over thermal underwear. And that there are aging cheerleaders in red T-shirts (led by yours truly—kee bo, ky bo, sis boom bah). Our team is named, roughly, after the ship: the Lube Oil All Overs, which we shout in a Kiwi accent, in honour of our expedition leader, Aaron Russ (Loo Boil Awl Ovahs). We have a Canadian flag and a Greenland flag, duct-taped to hockey sticks.
We have many secret weapons: a professional swim coach as the soccer team coach, an Olympic medalist (Linda Thom, pistol shooting, 1984), a dazzling young Argentinian zodiac driver named Fabrizio. A passenger named Jim, quiet unassuming chap, a doctor we are told, has volunteered to be in goal, and we think, well that’s nice, we don’t pay much attention…
To our surprise, there are spectators besides us, including the town ambulance (which may have been a form of psychological intimidation, we decide).
And there is a proper referee, who notices when we have sixteen players on the field instead of eleven (some of us are murky about the rules), and in fact the Greenlanders raise a quiet objection, that there are too many young people on the field. It is very hard to stop an Argentinian after seven minutes. It should be said that a number of the Greenlanders walk with one or two sticks. The terrain in Aasiaat is rocky and hilly.
And, we score, twice. We then realize that our goalie, anonymously swaddled in yellow Gortex, shorts and tights, as I recall, actually has some moves, actually knows how to be a goalie and is doing a stellar job for the Lube Oil All Overs.
Too stellar. Jim, now known as Big Jim, is too good. He has gotten in touch with his inner (high school) goalie. Having succumbed to the dazzling prospect of victory, heretofore unobtainable, we have a diplomacy dilemma: winning. We have to revise our strategy and so we do, and the final score is a tie, 2-2.
Both teams retired to the ship for hot tea and a barbeque on the frigid, windy sixth deck. A score of schoolchildren turned up and Aaju served them country food. The Greenlanders sang to us and we to them.
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Seenloitering: The “gender analysis” in this article is upside down. Marie Calloway is a threat to the status quo because she threatens the myth that women are morally superior, above...
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Legong: I know I am replying to this pathetic, racist statement a little late and the whole ignorant rant probably doesn’t even deserve a reply. Wanhenglo, if we were all to generalise about...
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