The Big Game

A couple of nights ago, I headed to the barber shop of a Moroccan friend of mine. (No, he doesn't cut my hair, as I do that myself with my electric razor at home). He's a friendly, sociable and welcoming guy, so I go to his shop from time to time to socialize and practice my Arabic. This particular Wednesday night when I headed there, I knew that a big soccer match was going to be played, and that he would be watching it in his shop.

On Wednesdays and Saturdays this time of the year, many Moroccan men and boys watch soccer matches (remember that here they call it "football," not "soccer"). I have found it most interesting how Moroccan men and boys in my town are so engrossed in matches between the two teams which were playing on Wednesday, which were Barcelona and Real Madrid. That's right, these are Spanish soccer teams, which is why I find it so intriguing that Moroccan men and boys enjoy watching these teams so much. It's not like there aren't Moroccan soccer teams.

In fact, when I arrived at the barber shop, my friend the barber had his flat screen TV tuned to a game between teams from Fes and Agadir, two Moroccan cities. He might have detected a look of puzzlement and concern on my face, since he said to me, "We'll turn on the game between Barsa and Madrid in a few minutes." It hadn't yet started. And sure enough, once the players on Barsa and Madrid were doing the coin toss to see which team got the ball first, my friend did not change the channel until halftime. He only switched back to the game between Fes and Agadir once the game between Barsa and Madrid had reached halftime.

So, many Moroccan men and boys here in town seem to be more excited about Barsa and Madrid than they seem to be interested in Moroccan soccer teams. It's expected that someone is rooting for either Barsa or Madrid. Before the game started, my friend the barber asked me if I liked Barsa or Madrid. When I responded that I didn't like either, he responded, "Maymkansh," which is Darija for "impossible," which made me smile, knowing the excitement over these teams.

When Madrid got possession of the ball at certain points, I was struck by, and enjoyed, how some of the Moroccans in the room were encouragingly saying, "Seer. Seer." It reminded me of how American men and boys, watching sports games, cheer the same word in English, "Go! Go!" even when they are not in the stadium.

When the first 45-minute half ended, and halftime arrived, neither team had scored. When the second half ended, still neither team had scored.

In the end, during extra time, Madrid finally scored a goal. Madrid won 1-0. I must admit, that although there was cheering in the room when Madrid scored that goal, it was not as loud or as raucous as I had expected it to be.

Once the game had ended, monada (Darija for "soda") was broken out in celebration, and shared liberally, in the typical Moroccan fashion of generosity and hospitality. I finally left my friend's shop at 11 p.m. As on that night, if one sees a good number of men and boys out at 11 p.m., it's most likely because a soccer match has been played that evening.