Alexis and Amber Hernandez with Mexican youth national team coaches (photo courtesy of Hernandez family)

At just 14, Amber is a year younger than her brother Alexis. She was the first to be noticed by Mexican coaches at an ODP (Olympic Development Program, which, in theory at least, is the pathway to the US national team) tryout in California in 2007. After watching Amber in action, the coaches sought out her father, Esmaldo, and said they were interested in bringing Amber to Mexico to try out for the U-17 national team. Amber says she was surprised. “I’ve always wanted to be a professional soccer player,” she says, “But as soon as I heard that I was surprised because I didn’t think it would happen to me so soon.”In February of last year, 13 year-old Amber headed to Mexico City to try to win a spot on the team. The tryout, she says, was “really hard and exciting at the same time.” The altitude of the Mexican capital was a particular challenge for her, but young Amber showed a mature attitude, saying simply that she “had to push herself through everything.” Push she did, and Amber won a spot on the U-17 team.

Amber says one of the most memorable parts of her time with the U-17s came after the games themselves. “After games the fans would come down and ask for autographs and pictures.” Amber says it was exciting, but a bit surprising to the 13 year-old. Afterwards, all she could think was, “Oh god, they asked me for my autograph.”

The Mexican U-17 girls team (Amber is in the middle row, second from the right)

Amber’s achievements alone are incredible, but less than a year later her brother matched them. After taking part in the Copa Chivas, a youth tournament hosted by parent team Chivas Guadalajara, Alexis impressed Mexican youth national team coaches enough to earn a tryout with the country’s U-17s. Like his sister, Alexis was surprised to get this call-up from the Mexican federation. “With my sister, they called her and we thought it was a prank call. I thought it was going to be the same for me.” But the Mexican federation was serious and before long Alexis was making the same trip his sister had just months before, flying to Mexico in an attempt to earn a spot on the country’s U-17 national team.

The team was training in Acapulco and when Alexis first joined them, some of the other players did not take kindly to him. “They didn’t think I was that good at first, when they heard there was an American player coming.” That changed, Alexis says, “when I showed them I could play. Then I got respect from all of them.” He earned a spot on the team and played for Mexico in several games.

Alexis with Mexican youth national team boss Jesus Ramirez

It’s been quite a journey for Amber and Alexis. They have lived most of their lives in Porterville, California, a small city in the largely agricultural and poor Central Valley. Both grew up playing AYSO (American Youth Soccer Organization), which supports soccer that is more for recreation and generally less competitive than leagues affiliated with USSF (United States Soccer Federation). Both quickly outgrew this level of competition and joined the South Valley Chivas Academy. This academy, begun by their father Esmaldo and his brother Gilbert Hernandez, has helped both to develop, and in Alexis’ case, enabled him to play in the Copa Chivas tournament that showed him off to the Mexican national team.

It can be hard for players in areas like the Central Valley to get noticed, says Esmaldo Hernandez. Money keeps a lot of players from joining organized teams (he says that there are many orange pickers in the area with buckets of talent) and those that they do join are not the elite clubs to which the US national team program has traditionally looked for players. Hernandez says he’s been frustrated to see his kids go through the ODP program, but never reach the national level. “What we noticed is that they made it to state, to regionals, but that’s as far as they would go.” He wonders whether politics may have played a role, as the ODP coaches already knew players from the elite youth clubs.

The lack of interest from the US youth national teams may be about to end, though. Soon after Alexis returned from Mexico, Chivas USA coaches called to let him know that the US was now interested in bringing him for a tryout for their U-17 national team. Alexis will travel to Florida later this month to try to impress the American coaches.

Alexis has another major tryout coming up this spring. In May, he will travel to Guadalajara to try to earn a spot with Chivas. He has impressed coaches there in previous trials and this is the final cut, which will determine whether the team will offer him a contract. Playing for Chivas is a goal of his, especially because everyone in his family supports the team and he grew up watching them. (Alexis’s father says that some people have called Alexis a “Padilla,” referring to Jesus Padilla, the player whose American birth recently caused a stir in Guadalajara, but that Alexis is not resentful. Alexis met Padilla on his recent trip to Guadalajara – he describes him as a “nice guy” – and says that he is a bit anxious at what type of reception he might receive as the latest American-born player, but his love of Chivas overwhelms any concerns.)

Amber’s aspirations are less focused than those of her brother, though in no way less lofty. She is currently training with the Mexican U-17s, preparing for World Cup qualifying. Reaching the tournament is a goal of hers, Amber tells me, but not the only one she harbors. “I hope to go to the World Cup someday. After that, I hope to get a scholarship to university and to play pro. But I also want to be a pediatrician.” (Her father tells me later that her career goals all “depend what day you catch her on.”) Having a set career path is not something expected of most 14 year-old girls, and in this way Amber is no different from her peers.

But in so many ways, both Amber and Alexis are unlike most American teenagers. They wake up each day at 5:00 to run 5 miles on the treadmill and finish with a 2-mile nightcap (there is, of course, school and soccer practice sandwiched in between). If the Hernandez siblings don’t achieve their goals, it will not be for lack of effort.

Stories like those of Alexis and Amber Hernandez are becoming more and more common. Mexican-American players are increasingly showing up on the rosters of Mexican club and national teams, including Michael Orozco of San Luis, Jose Francisco Torres of Pachuca, Edgar Castillo of Santos, and several others. Esmaldo Hernandez is simultaneously proud of his kids – seeing their development gives him “joy, a lot of joy” – and perplexed that they were noticed by Mexican youth national teams before those of the US. “How could another country pick up on a kid that should have been given a shot here?” he wonders.

But Alexis and Amber are happy to play for either national team. Amber says that if she had the opportunity to play for the US, she would “have to make a big decision,” but she’d be happy to represent either country. When asked the same question, Alexis laughs, pauses, and answers: “Well, it would be good if I could play for both.”

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Like most talented players, Qumsieh began to show interest in soccer early on. From the age of three, he began to kick anything within range. And whenever soccer came on television, he was transfixed.

Like young soccer enthusiasts around the world, Qumsieh began playing in the streets with friends. But unlike most kids, Qumsieh’s games were often interrupted by Israeli soldiers. “They would shoot in the air and tell everyone to leave,” recalls Qumsieh. When he later joined the Palestinian team Thagafi Beit Sahour, the team bus would often be turned back at Israeli checkpoints on the way to games.

Qumsieh was a precocious player and made his debut for Thagafi at age 16. Shortly after, he was invited to a try-out for the Palestinian under-17 national team. He made the team and in a match against Kuwait scored a memorable goal. With his team down 2-0, Qumsieh picked the ball up in midfield. He picks up the story from there: “I saw the goalkeeper playing like a sweeper … so I figured a shot it was worth it.” And the shot he took was definitely worth it.

After the game, people wanted to talk to him about his incredible goal. Some questioned whether he was young enough to be eligible for the U-17 team. All around him, he heard murmurs and people saying, “There was no way a kid … can have a shot like this.” So many people questioned his eligibly, Qumsieh says, that the “[tournament organizers] had to take something from my knee to see how old I was.”Qumsieh was a rising star in Palestinian soccer, but he also wanted to continue his education. When an offer came for a full scholarship to play soccer at Goshen College in Indiana, he took the offer. In two years at Goshen, he became a star at the Mennonite school, leading them to the national tournament. Qumsieh’s developed unique style – he describes it as “freestyle, moves, thinking fast” –on the streets of Bethlehm, but it translated quite well to the cornfields of the American Midwest.

At Goshen, Qumsieh was a big fish in a small pond. He longed for more space to swim and so when Park University coach Efrem Shimlis expressed interest in the Palestinian forward, Qumsieh took the chance. He transferred to the Kansas City school, where he just finished his first year. Qumsieh says that his first year with his new team was successful, even though they lost in the first round of the national tournament.Qumsieh is disappointed that the college teams he’s played on haven’t performed better in national tournaments, but says he’s grateful just to have the chance to play soccer in peace. He’s aware that the situation is quite different for Palestinian players who remain in the occupied territories.The Palestinian national team, Qumsieh notes, has, in its ten years of existence, struggled to overcome barriers imposed on it by the Israeli occupation. Qumsieh notes that, playing with youth national teams in Palestine, players would often be stopped at border checkpoints. “We would be on the borders like any other people. We would sleep in the streets at the borders.” Team officials would often appeal to FIFA to intervene, with limited success.(A movie called Goal Dreams chronicles the Palestinian national team’s unsuccessful attempt to qualify for the 2006 World Cup. The Palestinian FA went so far as bringing in Chilean players of Palestinian descent because the Israelis would not allow native Palestinians players through checkpoints.)In addition to barriers imposed by Israel, Qumsieh notes, a lack of money hinders the Palestinian team’s progress. He reckons that, on merit, he would likely be called up for the national team, but the costs of getting him to games prevents it from happening.

The political situation that has led to the West Bank and Gaza Strip being governed by separate Palestinian factions has also been played out within the national team. Qumsieh notes that spots on the team are divided equally between the two territories. This often causes problems for the players, as they get little chance to train together before matches. “Sometimes we don’t have time to know each other because of the situation. We practice maybe once or twice together. We’re not even used to each other at all.”

Despite this obstacle, Qumsieh says that atmosphere in national team camps he’s been involved with have been overwhelmingly positive. On youth national teams, Qumsieh was the only Christian, and often got good-spirited ribbing from his Muslim teammates. “They would kid me: ‘why don’t you become Muslim? Come on, man’.” But, Qumsieh says, “They’re all my friends. We respect each other. We’re representing Palestine.”

Representing Palestine is a powerful inspiration for Qumsieh. He has two goals: to become a professional player and to represent and improve the senior Palestinian national team.

Qumsieh had a trial with Egyptian powerhouse Al-Ahly last year and may have trials with European teams next year. When I ask him if he would ever consider playing for an Israeli team, Qumsieh laughs at the suggestion. Despite the geographic proximity, Israeli teams don’t scout Palestinian players. If considered in purely geographic terms, Qumsieh’s career path (Palestine to the US to, hopefully, Europe) makes absolutely no sense. But then, little in the Middle East does.

Qumsieh’s desire to represent his country again is, not surprisingly, tied closely to the political situation. He notes that all Palestinians cheer for their team, one of the few representations of statehood for a stateless people. Seeing the Palestinian national team, says Qumsieh, helps to take people’s mind off of the difficult conditions under which they live. The team allows “people [to] forget about the conflict.”

Qumsieh expresses exasperation with the conflict. “We’re really getting sick of it,” he says. “It’s boring.” The word boring may not be used often to describe the Israeli – Palestinian conflict, but its repetitiveness is, in some ways, just that.

Peace with Israel would represent a major boost for the Palestinian people of course, but also for its national team. Qumsieh is hopeful that Palestinian statehood can boost the team. “To do something to be proud of, that’s what I really wish for in the future. I want to represent Palestine with a good team, not a bad team.”

Thanks to Lee Tesdell for offering the idea that led to this interview.

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If I had to choose one word to describe Kosuke Kimura, it would have to be determined. The Colorado Rapids midfielder would not be where he is today were it not for his determination. From a young age, he knew he wanted to be a professional player, but at times it seemed such a goal would be impossible to attain. He has achieved his goal, although far from Japan, the country where he grew up. But determined as Kimura is, he is unwilling to rest on his laurels, and now has new goals for himself as a player.

Kosuke Kimura (photo: Colorado Rapids/MLS)

I knew of Kosuke Kimura because he is the only Japanese player in MLS. The league has said that it wants to attract Japanese players, but has yet to do so (my own hypothesis is that Japanese players aren’t that interested because the level of play is not much higher than the J-League and the pay is often lower). MLS didn’t attract Kimura to the league; he found it through his own roundabout career path. He sat down recently in Denver to talk about how he got to the US and differences he sees between American and Japanese soccer.

Kimura realized when he was in elementary school that he had quite a talent for soccer. But he did not have connections to professional teams that lead many similarly talented youngsters to spots on J-League youth teams. In middle school, he heard about an open tryout at his local team, Kawasaki Frontale. Of the nearly five hundred players there, the team announced they would select only three for their youth program. At the end of the tryout, Kimura heard his name called. It was an incredible boost to his confidence. He said of that day, “I felt like I had something. I felt like I could make it.”

Kimura began training with the youth team at Frontale and did so well that at age 15, he began practicing with the first team. Everything was going smoothly until, in his last year of high school, he broke his fifth metatarsal. Kimura recovered, but couldn’t return to his previous level of play and Frontale released him. It was a huge setback, and one that might have dissuaded Kimura from pursuing his goal of playing professionally. But it didn’t.

The other option for Kimura at that point was to play college soccer in Japan. But, he told me, “The problem is, in Japan, usually people go pro after high school. Only a few people go pro after college.” Kimura had a friend who told him that in the US, college players often did turn pro. His friend had recently received a scholarship to play in the US and urged Kimura to do the same.

The idea of playing college soccer in the US was appealing, but posed a major problem: Kimura spoke almost no English. He used the little English he had to research schools and write to college coaches. He got some responses, but none offered scholarships. Several offered to have him come to open tryouts, including the coach at Western Illinois University. He spoke to the coach there, who told him he could come but only if he attended an ESL (English as a Second Language) class that began in two weeks. Fourteen days later, Kimura boarded a plane for the US.

After his ESL class, Kimura was immediately thrown into regular college classes, which he found difficult. The first semester, he said, “I had no idea what the teachers were talking about.” Dealing with difficult academic material in a new language, he had to work twice as hard as his classmates.

On the soccer field, however, things went much more smoothly. He went to the college team’s tryout with a Kuwaiti he had met in his ESL class and both thoroughly impressed the coach. After the first practice, the coach came up to the players and said, “You guys have to come. You guys have to help us.”

And help they did. The team won their conference championship three out of the next four years and made the prestigious end-of-year NCAA tournament. Not coincidentally, Kimura was named to the All-Conference after three of his four seasons with the team. Upon his graduation, Kimura’s coach said of Kimura, “he has been an inspiration to his teammates over the last four years.”

Kosuke Kimura playing at Western Illinois University (photo: AJ Self/Western Courier)

Despite his stellar college career, it was a bit of a surprise when the midfielder found out he had been drafted by the Colorado Rapids. His college team had never gone very far in the NCAA Tournament, and he assumed this would put a damper on his hopes of going pro. But the Rapids saw enough of Kimura to offer him a spot on their team.

Since coming here four years ago, Kimura has come to appreciate many aspects of playing soccer in the US. Here, he said, he gets along well with all of his teammates, whom he finds very open. “It’s much easier to interact with teammates here.”

He contrasted that openness with what he saw in Japan. There, Kimura found that Japanese society’s emphasis on hierarchy (see this discussion of sempai / kohai) hampered relationships between teammates. “In Japan, it’s hard to break down the relationships … When I was in junior high school or high school, I didn’t talk to older people. If they wanted to talk to me, I talked to them, but I never tried to talk to them.”

Kimura has also noticed differences in the style of play that characterizes Japanese and American soccer. The J-League is “much faster” with more “skill and technique” while MLS “is more mixed … It combines the skill and physical [strength].” Kimura posited that MLS’s style of play is due to its drawing players from all around the world.

He also suggested that the difference can be partly accounted for in the different ways youth players are coached in the two countries. “When I was a kid in Japan, they focused on little details. When I was little, my coach only focused on skills.” In coaching he’s done in the US, Kimura says he’s often been shocked at the poor level of skills he has observed.

(Were I to explain this difference, I would point to Japanese society’s emphasis on perfecting the proper process of doing things. Often seen in martial arts training, Japanese society traditionally encourages a mastering of process, or kata, through repetition. In my work in a Japanese middle school, I observed this emphasis on mastery of process through repetition and noticed how different it was from the typical American ideal of learning through exploration and expression of creativity. The constant repetition of Japanese education that encourages children to repeatedly work to improve their skill would undoubtedly make more skillful players, though one might wonder if they would lack creativity. That said, Celtic’s Shunsuke Nakamura ain’t bad.)

Critiques of American youth coaching aside, Kimura is happy to be playing in the US. He’s far from home, but “right now, I want to stay outside of Japan and try to move on with different soccer. I want to get more experience and work hard towards the future.”

Kosuke Kimura playing for the Rapids reserve team (photo: Mark Leffingwell/Daily Camera)

Kimura has achieved his goal of becoming a professional player, albeit far from Japan, but Kimura is now aiming higher. “Whatever I do, I try to follow plans,” Kimura told me. “For now, my short term goal is to make it to the first team and play. It’s going to be hard because we have so many older, good players and this is only my first year. After that, something will open up for me. I have to play for the first team first and maybe some people will see me and I’ll have another chance … Eventually, the ultimate goal is to play for the Japanese national team.”

Right now, Kosuke Kimura is a long way from that ultimate goal. But given the determination he’s shown throughout his career, he might just reach it.

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One the most important factors shaping people’s lives in the 21st century is the ever-increasing pace of globalization. We are familiar with many of the changes globalization has brought: the multitude of products manufactured in China, information available on-demand on the Internet, and people increasingly moving to different countries in search of a better life. But sometimes, globalization brings about a change that is totally unexpected.

When DC United signed forward Nicolas Addlery at the beginning of the season, I read in the press release that the Jamaican had spent the previous year playing in Vietnam. How strange, I thought. How could a player from Jamaica end up playing in a country halfway across the world from his homeland? Well, the short answer is globalization, but the long answer is far more interesting.

Nicholas Addlery sat down with me recently and talked about how he ended up playing in Vietnam and what he took away from his time playing and living there.

Nicholas Addlery (photo: DC United / MLS)

Addlery was born in Jamaica and lived there until he 17. He had made the national under-17 pool and was scouted by a coach at California University of Pennsylvania, where he played for four years. Addlery had a stellar college career, including being named a second team All-American in 1997.After college, Addlery began his pro career in Trinidad and Tobago, first with the South Starworld Strikers and later with San Juan Jabloteh. How did he get there, I asked? Addlery shrugged and responded that the similarities with his homeland had been a draw. “Jamaica, Trinidad, it’s close enough.”

The next stop on Addlery’s career, though, was anything but close to Jamaica. The coach of his team in Trinidad, former English international Terry Fenwick, had connections to a sports marketing company with ties to the Vietnamese team Dong Nai FC. Asked if he wanted a new challenge, Addlery agreed and was soon on a plane to southeast Asia.

He went to Vietnam with another player from his former Trinidadian club, but his teammate soon returned home. While Addlery mentioned several players who struggled to adapt to life in Vietnam, he himself relished it. He lived in Dong Nai province, a highly industrialized area with many factories producing goods for export. He would often go to the capital Ho Chi Min City, which he described as “very modern.”

Addlery would spend his free time at what have become global pastimes: shopping and visiting Internet cafes. He also has fond memories of getting massages (“not the type of massage you’re thinking,” he assures me).

While in Vietnam, Addlery made an effort to fit in with the locals. He bought himself a dictionary and picked up the basics of the language, ate local food (“a lot of rice”), and learned to use chopsticks.

Addlery may have grown used to many parts of life in Vietnam, but many Vietnamese were not used to seeing him. Listed at 6’1”, 185 pounds (that’s 1.85 meters, 84 kg for those lucky enough not to use the imperial system), he is a large man in the United States, let alone Vietnam.

When his team traveled to rural parts of Vietnam, Addlery was often the first black person many rural Vietnamese had ever seen. “They weren’t used to seeing black people,” he told me. “In the rural areas where they don’t really have soccer teams, they’ve never seen a black guy before. You see a black guy that big, you’re like ‘Wow, that’s a big black guy’.”

Addlery’s presence could sometimes be dangerous. “I’ve caused accidents just standing on the corner of the street.”

The Jamaican forward enjoyed this notoriety. “Here, I’m just a regular person,” he told me. “There, I’m like ‘oh my God!’”

Would he go back to Vietnam or another Asian country? “Definitely, if I’m available and they put some good bread on the table,” Nicholas Addlery told me.

“Some people say, ‘I want to play in Europe.’ Me, I want to play in Asia. There are opportunities to do so many other things. It’s just a little different lifestyle … I’m always looking for new experiences.”

Can you find Christopher Birchall? Hint: he’s the one lacking pigment.

As he himself succinctly explained, it was through his mother that Birchall was eligible to play for Trinidad and Tobago. She was born and grew up in Port of Spain, Trinidad’s capital. Although she moved to England at age 18 and settled there, her connection to the island nation would serve her son well.

While Birchall knew that his mother had been born in Trinidad, he had never considered the possibility of representing the Caribbean nation. During the 2004-2005 season, he was mostly concerned with trying to break into the first team of Port Vale. But, unbeknownst to him, word had leaked about his heritage and Birchall was approached by a Trinidadian player during a league match against Wrexham. Birchall told The Guardian’s Dominic Fifield what happened next:

[Port] Vale played Wrexham towards the end of that season, the ball went out for a throw-in and Dennis Lawrence came charging up to me. When a 6ft 7in opponent comes at you, normally the first thing you think is ‘Uh-oh, what have I done wrong here? Did I foul him earlier or something?’ But he just asked whether I had any Trini blood in me and wanted to have a chat after the game.

It may have been the worst pick-up line ever (“You have any Trini blood in you? You want some?”), but it was enough to charm the Port Vale midfielder. He and Dennis Lawrence chatted after the game, confirmed his Trini blood, and a few weeks later, Birchall was on a plane, heading for the Caribbean.

When Birchall made his international debut in May of 2005, he became the first white player to play for the Soca Warriors in 60 years. His race was of major interest to the press and people of his newly adopted country. Again, speaking to the Guardian, Birchall said, “There was a big crowd for my first game – I was a bit of a novelty, the first white player for so long – and they wanted to see how good I was, wondering: ‘Who is this guy playing for us who’s never been here before, and a white lad too?’”

Birchall expressing his patriotism

Back in England, Birchall’s father worried that his boy might not be accepted in his newly adopted country. Birchall himself was a bit nervous too, but his fears were eased as soon as he arrived. “That was one of the main things I was worried about, but everything has been fine, ” Birchall said. “Not only was I a white guy playing for Trinidad and Tobago for the first time in 60 years but I was also from England – so that is why it has been so great the way I have been accepted. I have been to the local nightclubs and met a lot of the local people.”

So, why was Birchall accepted so easily into the Trinidadian team? He believes it has to do with the country’s multiethnic nature. “[I]n Trinidad, there are loads of different cultures, whites, Chinese. For them, it is not a big deal, because there are a lot of white people…”

Trinidad is an incredibly diverse place. In addition to the whites and Chinese Birchall mentioned, the population of Trinidad is about 40% East Indian, 40% Afro-Trinidadian, and nearly 20% of the people identify themselves as mixed. This mixing is key to understanding Trinidadian identity.

As Cornell University anthropologist Viranjini Munasinghe writes in her paper Nationalism in Hybrid Spaces: The Production of Impurity Out of Purity, while Europeans and their descendants have built their identity around the idea of a homogeneous population, Trinidadians have based their sense of self in heterogeneity.

Munasinghe writes that “the national genius of some New World Creole societies lies in their celebration of mixture of hybridity” (668). Though she points out that this celebration has largely excluded East Indians, it is revealing to note that the myth of Trinidadian identity, at least, has been based around celebrating the multiethnic character of the population.

Many have used food metaphors in an attempt to explain this notion of identity. Callaloo, a popular dish in the country, for example, is a mixture of African and indigenous ingredients. As such, it is used (much like the American melting pot) to symbolize the way in which people from many different backgrounds come to Trinidad and are mixed together to form a new, unique product called Trinis. (Just as the idea of the melting pot has been critiqued for making all the delicious ingredients into a tasteless mush, so too have people like Munasinghe criticized the callaloo metaphor, saying it leaves little space for East Indians to express their unique identity. In both countries, reformers are promoting a “tossed salad” metaphor to replace the established ones.)

Callaloo

Metaphors aside, it remains undeniable that Trinidad and Tobago is very aware of its multiethnic nature. Munainshge quotes one observer of Trinidadian culture who says that “a number of individuals know of six or more racial … strains in their ancestry.” (680).

Christopher Birchall was worried that people in Trinidad would not accept him as a white player. He found out that his “unique” background was seen, in many ways, as not very unique. Interesting backgrounds are not that special in a country full of them.

Birchall endeared himself to people in Trinidad when he scored a goal in his country’s play-off match against Bahrain to help send the Soca Warriors to their first ever World Cup. The only person prouder than Trinidadian fans of their “white boy” was the white boy’s own mother. “Mum was the proudest person alive that I was representing her country. She thought the Trinidad chapter in her life had been shut. It’s emotional for her.”

Birchall playing against Sweden at the 2006 World Cup

It may be hard for Birchall’s mother to believe that he is playing for the country of her birth, but not as hard as it is for some of his teammates. “When … players … hear I play internationally, they can’t believe it and say, ‘Who do you play for?’ ‘Trinidad & Tobago.’ They start laughing. ‘No really, who do you play for?’”

I will buy a beer for anyone who can tell me who the first white player to play for Trinidad was. I’ve searched, but can’t find the answer. Oh, and you have to come to Washington (before September) or San Diego (afterwards) to pick up your prize.

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Lee Han Jae

Lee is not a typical Japanese player. The Sanfrecce Hiroshima player was born in the Japanese city of Kurashiki, but his family comes from North Korea (thus making him eligible for that country’s national team). Lee is a member of the large, but often ignored, ethnic Korean minority group in Japan.

The Korean community exists largely because of Japan’s colonial past. In 1910, Japan annexed Korea, thus forcibly making its people Japanese subjects. For the next 35 years Japan occupied the Korean peninsula and brought many people to Japan as laborers. It was only in 1945 that Korea regained its independence, as Japan’s defeat in World War II led it to relinquish all overseas territories. But many of the ethnic Koreans living in Japan remained in that country and their descendants, like Lee Han Jae, make up the Korean community in Japan today.

Koreans in Japan have experienced widespread discrimination. Japanese identity has long been based on the idea of ethnic homogeneity, an idea challenged by minorities like the Koreans. For a long time, Korean immigrants’ children were denied citizenship, despite the fact that they were born in Japan.

The Korean community in Japan has itself experienced divisions. The war that split the peninsula into two countries soon after World War II also affected ethnic Koreans in Japan. While most came from South Korea, some hailed from the North. Those who supported North Korea formed the Chongryon organization to support the communist government’s ideals. This group continues to receive support from the North Korea government today. A large part of this money funds schools in Japan, which, not surprisingly, have a pro-North Korea bent.

Despite its mistrust of the North Korean regime, the Japanese government tolerates such schools because they are not officially accredited. As University of Iowa anthropologist Sonia Ryang writes in her article How to Do or Not Do Things with Words: The Case of Koreans in Japan, “In exchange for not being academic schools, Chongryun schools had carte blanche to teach about North Korea, Kim Il Sung and other political matters they themselves deemed to be important” (226).

Lee attended just such a school. And as he walked out onto the pitch in 2005 to play Japan, he was watched by 600 students and teachers from the Chrongryon-funded Tokyo Korean Junior and Senior High School. They were among the estimated 5,000 ethnic Koreans who turned out to see the game, which Japan won 2-1. Lee Han Jae is still waiting to fulfill his dream of beating the country of his birth.

A screenshot from Lee Han Jae’s official website shows him along with a Siberian Tiger, a symbol of Korea

Washington is the latest stop on Yasur’s soccer journey, which has been filled with interesting stops. He was gracious enough to sit down with me for an hour-long interview recently, and his story was worth every minute.

Dor Yasur showing off his skills

Dor Yasur is the first generation of his family to be born in Guatemala. His family is from Israel and his father worked for his country’s embassies around the world. It was while the Yasur family was in the Central American country that Dor was born (and this would ultimately make him eligible for that country’s national team).

Yasur lived the first twelve years of his life in Guatemala City and it was there that he first started playing soccer. He formed a team with Guatemalan friends called “Bad Boys” (in English) and later played for the team at his school.

At age 12, Yasur’s life took a major turn when his family decided to move to Boca Raton, Florida. By that time, Yasur had already been bitten by the soccer bug. In Florida, he joined local club teams and played on them until high school.

Most precocious athletes attend high schools with strong sports programs, but Yasur chose to attend a school in line with his faith. Donna Klein Academy, which Yasur describes as a “tiny Jewish [high] school” (it had 84 students when he was there), had just begun its soccer program. Yasur quickly became a star on the team, which he actually began playing on in eighth grade.

Said Donna Klein athletic director David Trell of Yasur:

[He] just dominated. We really didn’t know how we were going to play and what our situation was because we never had a program and he just took over. He had seven goals in one game. He had four in another. He finished with well over 20 goals last season. We finished 8 and 4 last year and I think the four losses we had were because he didn’t play.

Dor Yasur in his high school days

Yasur dedicated himself to soccer. In addition to regular practices and games, he worked with personal trainer Luis Gajardo five days a week from 7:30 AM to 10:00 AM. He later joined the Palm Beach Pumas, a U-23 team dedicated to helping high school players get scholarships with college soccer programs. Yasur says that Gajardo and his Palm Beach Pumas coach, Bobby Lennon, are “the major reasons” he has been able to keep playing after high school. He also credits his family for his success. “My family has really been there for me since the beginning.”

Yasur’s hard work paid off when he was given a scholarship to attend American University in Washington, DC. In the beginning, Yasur found the step-up to college ball a challenge. “I was god-awful the first few months,” he says. “I didn’t think I was going to see the field.”

But with characteristic tenacity, Yasur improved and when given a shot by coach Todd West, Yasur grabbed it with both hands. He played well and became a starter, playing 13 games in all. Yasur’s success at AU provided the springboard that would bring Yasur’s career full-circle.

Dor Yasur in his official American University soccer team photo

Just after the college season had finished, the Guatemalan under-20 national team was on a tour of the US in preparation for the upcoming World Cup qualifying tournament. After a friendly, Yasur’s former personal trainer, Luis Gajardo (who is also an assistant coach at Florida Atlantic University), was talking with Guatemala’s coach, Rodrigo Kenton.The Guatemalan boss mentioned that his team was missing a few pieces and said to Gajardo, “Do you know of any defenders?” Gajardo immediately thought of Yasur and urged Kenton to give him a shot. Kenton said, “OK, bring him down for a tryout.”

So eager was Yasur to take advantage of this opportunity that he flew from Washington to Florida the next day to meet up with the Guatemalan U-20s. Yasur participated in several training sessions and made his debut with the team in a friendly soon after.

(Amazingly, the Guatemalan team was originally planning to stay only three days in the United States, but a donor gave them money to stay longer. Had the team left after three days, Yasur never would have had the chance to meet up with them in Florida.)

Yasur says there were several differences between college soccer and the international game. The main difference was the emphasis on organization. “We worked on our defensive shape hours upon hours upon hours.” The Guatemalan team also focused on set pieces, knowing they might be the opportunity to score the winning goal in a tightly contested international match. And whereas Yasur describes college soccer as being fairly direct, he says his Guatemalan teammates were “some of the most skillful guys I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Yasur then returned to school at American University. A couple of weeks later, another piece of good news arrived, again through his former personal trainer. Gajardo called Yasur to let him know that he had made such a good impression on Rodrigo Kenton that the coach was inviting him to the training camp for the U-20 qualifying tournament. Soon after, Yasur got a call from a Guatemalan reporter who asked him: “Do you know you’ve been selected for the Guatemalan U-20 team?” Yasur responded excitedly, “Yeah, I know!”

Three days later, Yasur was again flying out of Washington, this time to Guatemala. There, he met up with his teammates and began training for the tournament. As he got to know his teammates better, their differences became apparent. “Some of them knew what being Jewish was, but some of them had no idea.”

Recognizing this, coach Kenton made clear to all of his players that Yasur was a part of the team, just like everyone else. Even though he had spent less time with the Guatemalan U-20s and had a very different background than most of his teammates, Kenton told his players that Yasur was there to help the team achieve their common goal: to qualify for the U-20 World Cup.

Sadly, that goal was not achieved. Despite having one of their most talented youth sides ever and a well-respected coach (Kenton had gone to the World Cup twice as assistant coach for Costa Rica in 1990 and Nigeria in 1998), the Guatemalans came up short. They tied host team Panama in an atmosphere that Yasur described as “nuts” and, to the surprise of many, drew with the heavily favored Americans as well. In the last game, the Guatemalans had to beat Haiti, but the Caribbean team came out strong and won 2-0, ending the Central Americans’ dream.

Dor Yasur (#2) with his Guatemalan U-20 teammates

Though Yasur didn’t get to play in the qualifiers, he says he enjoyed the experience and is hungry for more. “I’d love to play for Guatemala again,” he says. Yasur’s time with the Guatemala U-20s is now over as he’s too old for the next World Cup cycle, but he holds out hope of making the Guatemalan Olympic team for the 2012 games.By 2012, Yasur could be achieving his goal of playing professionally. “I want to play until my legs give out,” he says. What country would he like to play professional in, I ask.

“I’d like to play in Israel for Maccabi Haifa or Maccabi Tel Aviv because a lot of my family is there. I feel a connection to Israel still, being Jewish and going through Jewish school.” He reaches into his shirt and pulls out a necklace. On it are two pendants: a soccer ball and a Star of David.

I ask: Do you feel more Guatemalan? Israeli? American?

“That is such a hard question,” responds Yasur. “If I go to Guatemala, I’m not the Guatemalan. When I’m here in America, I’m not the American; I’m the Guatemalan or Israeli. In Israel, I’m the americano or the Guatemalan.”

Ultimately, though, Yasur says he feels the strongest connection to Guatemala and Israel (though not to the United States, a country of which he’s not a citizen).

Yasur’s career, indeed his life, has taken some fascinating turns. He is an Israeli born in Guatemala who later moved to Florida, then to Washington DC, and who now represents the country of his birth.

When I suggest that parts of his career have been due to chance, he is quick to correct me.

“It’s chance, but it’s chance and hard work. I can’t even tell you to countless hours I’ve spent training.” He then recalls a quote told to him while with the Guatemalan U-20s.

“Luck,” says Dor Yasur, “is when destiny and hard work meet.”

Benny Feilhaber (left) playing for the USA U-20 national team

When American midfielder Benny Feilhaber signed for Hamburg in 2005, he returned to the part of the world his grandfather had left over half a century ago. But Feilhaber’s trip from UCLA to Germany was only the latest voyage in a life filled with twists and turns.Benny Feilhaber was born in Rio de Janeiro in 1985. His Jewish grandfather had fled to Brazil from his native Austria in order to escape the encroaching Nazi regime (though the Jewish population of Brazil is not as large as in Argentina, there are an estimated 100,000 Jews there today).Two generations later, young Benny grew up playing soccer in the streets of Brazil. He described the game there as “the most carefree soccer in the whole world. You kind of just play, do what you want with the ball and if you lose it and you just try and get it back.” Feilhaber played futebol in Brazil until, at age six, his family moved to the United States.

In Southern California, Feilhaber was a stand-out on local youth teams. He had a standout career at Northwood High School, but not enough to earn a scholarship to college soccer power UCLA. Feilhaber decided to try his luck as a walk-on at the Los Angeles school and earned a spot on the team. He experienced some success at UCLA, including being named to the Pac-10 second team, but his big break would come when he was named to the U-20 team for the 2005 World Championships.

Feilhaber’s inclusion on the U-20 team was a surprise because while he was successful at UCLA, he had never played for a youth national team. Good luck graced the player, as he told Andrea Canales of Soccer365:

I think the most surprising fact was how [then U-20 coach] Sigi (Schmid) heard about me to bring me in to the national team. His son attends UCLA and knows all the soccer guys. He told him I had been playing well and so Sigi decided to watch some games toward the end of my sophomore year.

Feilhaber’s play at the 2005 World Championships proved that his inclusion in the squad was deserved. He played so well that he was FIFA waxed poetic about his “silky skills and bags of creative energy” and named him to the all-tournament team, along with Leonel Messi, Philippe Senderos, and Jon Obi Mikel.

Feilhaber left such an impression at the tournament that he received offers from Mallorca, Heerenveen, and Kaiserlauten as well as Hamburg, with whom he eventually signed. The fact that Feilhaber had an Austrian passport smoothed his passage to Hamburg (with it, he wasn’t counted as a foreigner).

Feilhaber in his presentation for Hamburg

Feilhaber says he does see it as “a little bit ironic” that he now plays his soccer in the country which once forced his grandfather to flee his homeland (he is not the only Jew to return to Germany in recent years; see this Christian Science Monitor article about a “Jewish renaissance” in the country). And he says that most people in Germany “don’t [realize] I [am] Jewish, but if they asked I would be first to tell them.” Feilhaber identifies as Jew enough that he traveled to Israel with the American soccer team to take part in the 2005 Maccabiah Games. Doing so postponed his joining up with Hamburg, but Feilhaber says he doesn’t regret the decision. While there, he led the US team to a silver medal along with Chivas USA’s Jonathan Bornstein. (Bornstein, child of a Jewish father and Mexican mother described the tournament thusly: “Outside of my UCLA teammate Benny Feilhaber, I never really thought there were other high-class Jewish soccer players out there. With the Maccabiah Games, I definitely got the chance to experience a good thing. I realized there are a lot of really cool and really good Jewish athletes.”)

While Feilhaber began his Hamburg career with the reserves, this year he has seen extensive time with the first team. Playing along with world-class players such as Juan Pablo Sorí­n (also a Jew) and Rafael Van der Vaart (married to Dutch MTV presenter Sylvie Meis, who is Jewish) has improved Feilhaber’s play enormously.

Bob Bradley brought Feilhaber into the US squad this past week and gave him his first start in Sunday’s 3-1 victory over Ecuador. Feilhaber’s technique, passing, tackling, and stabilizing play were lauded by many. Said Landon Donovan (whose man of the match performance was due in no small part to the dirty work Feilhaber put in behind him), “He’s very good on the ball, and has as much potential at that position as anyone I’ve seen. He’s in a spot where he could find himself playing there for a long time for the US.”

One problem Feilhaber has is figuring out where “that position” is. While Feilhaber has played mostly as a defensive midfielder in recent years, he is far more skilled and creative than a typical “destroyer” in the mold of Claude Makelele. Some, like Paul Gardner, worry that Feilhaber’s “talent [may] wither away in the restricted world of the holding midfielder.”

But this view ignores the fact that a defensive midfielder need not only be a destroyer. In fact, Feilhaber resembles Italy’s deep-lying distributor Andrea Pirlo, a comparison both Feilhaber himself and Marc Connolly have made. Indeed, the US national team may have to reshape its tactics to match Feilhaber’s talents. (In this they could take a cue from the Argentines, who love a “number 5″ described by Marcela Mora y Araujo as “both marker and playmaker” who often pushes into an inside forward position too).

Feilhaber battles against Arsenal’s Julio Baptista in a 2006 Champions League match

Feilhaber’s unique skill set may stem, at least in part, from his eclectic upbringing. Landon Donovan says he has a “German bite” and Feilhaber agrees, saying he has “learned to be an aggressive ballwinner” in his time at Hamburg. But underneath he still retains some of what he learned on the streets of Brazil. The six years he spent in South America were important in teaching him “to keep the ball for my team and not to give it away easily.” Putting together this strength and technique has been key to his success. “Once I was able to use both these qualities in my soccer, it helped me become a much better player.”

Benny Feilhaber’s life has taken him to many continents, but he has never forgotten the country of his birth. He still speaks Portuguese, drinks matte (a Brazilian tea) every day, and told the website Even Is On that Brazilian music prominently placed on his iPod. And despite the success Feilhaber has achieved, he says that his dream is to play for the Brazilian club he supports, Botafogo.

Feilhaber is truly a man of the world. He makes a living in a country far from home, but claims the distance doesn’t bother him. “I’ve been really exposed to many different lifestyles so [playing in Germany] is definitely a new experience for me but nothing has been too unusual that I haven’t seen before.”

But under the radar there is a story of an Iranian player whose treatment shows the tolerance for which Iran has, in various periods of its history, been known. That player’s name is Andranik Teymourian and, in the Muslim theocracy, he stands out as a Christian.

Andranik Teymourian

Surprisingly, Teymourian insists his religion has never been an issue. “I am very happy that as a Christian I am playing for a Muslim team,” he told the AP during last summer’s World Cup. Teymourian insists that religious issues don’t affect the players in Iran’s dressing room. “In terms of being a religious minority, I’ve got no problem, and relations are really good at the heart of the team.”

And the Iranian people are happy with Teymourian too. When he made his debut for the Iranian national team in 2005, people in that country were initially surprised to see him cross himself. But he has quickly won them over. Despite Iran’s lack of success at last summer’s World Cup, the image of Teymourian collapsed on the field after giving his all has endeared him to many in the country.

Teymourian collapes after Iran’s game against Angola

Teymourian is part of the Armenian minority group in Iran. Their numbers are currently estimated at some 200,000, with the majority living in Tehran and around Isfahan. Armenia and Iran were historically very close, but when their populations converted to Christianity and Islam respectively, the connections grew weaker. Despite this religious split, Armenians began coming to Iran in the 16th century. In the 20th century, Mohammad Reza Shah saw the Armenian population as a trusted source of support, and allowed the community to prosper under his rule. The Islamic Revolution of 1979, however, brought Islamic fundamentalists to power, leading many fearful Armenians to flee the country. Around 100,000 left during the rule of Ayatollah Khomeini. Surprisingly, Iran’s rulers today take a less repressive approach toward their Armenian minority. According to historian George A. Bournoutian,

The current government is more accommodating and Armenians, unlike the Kurds and Iranian Azeris, have their own schools, clubs, and maintain most of their churches. The fall of the Soviet Union, the common border with Armenia, and the Armeno-Iranian diplomatic and economic agreements have opened a new era for the Iranian Armenians.

Andranik Teymourian has shown himself to be a model of tolerance, even toward people still oppressed by the government of Iran. He has two Israel teammates at his club team, Bolton, and has become close friends with one of them, Idan Tal. Tal told Ynetnews in January of their burgeoning friendship:

We’re good friends off pitch as well. We talk a lot, sometimes we go out together. He told me a lot about Iran’s World Cup games. He’s living here alone, with no family, but he has a few Iranian friends who have lived in the area many years, and they were also very nice to me when I met them.

When Tal embraced Teymourian after he scored Bolton’s fourth goal in an FA Cup match against Doncaster Rovers in January, the image was reproduced on both Israeli and Iranian websites and lauded as a symbol of friendship trumping politics.

From L to R: Idan Tal, Andranik Teymourian, Kevin Davies, and Quinton Fortune

According to Tal, “it was just another victory hug.” And what did the Israeli say to the Iranian as they embraced? “We were laughing. We call him ‘Jesus’ on the team, a nickname the manager gave him when he let his hair grow long and he looked like Jesus, so I said ‘congratulations on the goal, Jesus.’”

What does Mahmoud Ahmadinejad think about one of the most detested members of humanity calling one of his countrymen Jesus? We’ll likely never know. But in their embrace and in their friendship, a Jew from Israel and an Armenian Christian from Iran are showing that cooperation on the soccer field can trump odious government policies.

Perhaps their friendship can be the beginning of what is right now unthinkable: reconciliation between Iran and the Jewish people. Indeed, within the country there are currently around 40,000 Jews, down from the 100,000 there at the time of the Islamic Revolution. Historically, Iran has been a place of freedom for Jews, who revere the ancient Persian king Cyrus the Great for liberating them from captivity and allowing them to return to Jerusalem.

We can only hope that the current anti-Semitic policies of Iran’s government are a historical blip and that future governments might follow the lead of Cyrus the Great, and not that of Mr. Ahmadinejad. Iran has made some progress on increasing tolerance of its Armenian Christian population; how long will it be until we have a government there that is courageous enough to make peace with Jews around the world, and the Jewish community in Iran itself. If such reconciliation were to occur, what better symbol of cooperation could there be than a player from Iran’s Jewish community representing the national team?