Have a Go

The Kiwi way

Junior sports are often tied to the school term, which means that all of the Term 4 sports were underway by the time we settled in and started looking for activities. We were initially disheartened, thinking that we had missed the relevant registration deadlines and would have to wait until Term 1 starts up at the end of January. But in talking to a local builder (and futsal fan) during a home inspection, he suggested we just show up at Aorangi Park on Wednesday at 5:45pm and ask for Raquel. “Wear red,” he said.

Sign at the entrance to the futsal fields

Aorangi Park was full of multiple different teams, all wearing uniforms, playing futsal on 3 different courts. As we walked up to the field, with our boys dressed in random red athletic clothing, a woman wearing a red shirt turned around and gave a friendly Kiwi smile. It was, in fact, Raquel.

With a handful of team rosters, she lead us first to a team of year 5-6 students. Take note, Little Brother, while quite athletic, is only in year 3. The coach happily invited him into the fold, sending him onto the field at the next substitution to “give it a go.” Big Brother joined a team of his peers that was unfortunately playing a far superior team, but he had fun nonetheless.

The comments we heard and observations we made during those games made us love New Zealand (or, at least, Timaru) even more. The kids were welcoming, not groaning about why a little kid was joining their team or teasing them about not having the right uniform. They were immediately invited to continue playing on the teams by kids and coaches alike. The adults were welcoming: Raquel stayed with us the whole time, explaining the league and answering all of our questions; several parents introduced themselves to us and struck up conversations.

They get together to play once a week. No scheduled practices, just gentle coaching from the sidelines as they play. There was no yelling from coaches or parents. Intermittently a whistle would blow, indicating start of game, halftime, or end of game for all 6 teams playing. There were FAR more children than adults, and the few adults who were there were busy talking to each other or dancing to the music playing from the sound system. Literally, dancing to the Macarena and Barbie Girl. (There will need to be an entirely different article on music in New Zealand… the 90s and early 2000s are alive and well here.)

We will text the boys’ shirt sizes to Raquel, send her a payment, and the boys can now say they play futsal.