A Matter of Life and Death?

Football might contribute to improved relations between countries, or it might act as a catalyst for war; it may foment secessionist fervour or solidify international ties. It is many things to even more people, but this is not because it possesses chameleon-like transformational, or even transformative, powers. Ultimately, football reflects the society in which it is played, be that society national or global. If football incites war or facilitates peace, it is because human beings are as prone (for reasons of diffidence, glory, competition or permissive anarchy, perhaps) to violence as they are fond of peace and stability.

That paragraph is from the conclusion of my (recently completed, as yet unpublished…) undergraduate dissertation on the International Relations of Football. I’ve cited it here because it’s relevant to the wider context of this post: what does our historic World Cup qualification really mean for Trinidad and Tobago?

Whether as a sport or as an area of research, my interest in and passion for football increases almost daily. Academically, I’ve long been fascinated by the interplay between football and politics, as well as the political economy of football, to say nothing of the sociological and anthropological studies of the Game.

Over the past few days, several very different pieces of writing on football have caught my eye; these range from a news report in which UN Secretary General Kofi Annan hails the game as “one of the few institutions that is as exceptional as the United Nations” to a scathing critique of the “Cup of Death” by Muslim blogger Hassan Ramadan. These perspectives are opposed in their emphases (the one positive about the potential of o jogo bonito as force for good, the other critical of the postmodern opiate of the masses), but they are united in their recognition of football’s global impact. For instance, Annan says that he wished “people would discuss development issues as seriously as they will their team’s performance in the world’s biggest sporting event and that nations would compete with each other in governance the way they will on the field from June 9 to July 9,” and that “countries would compete with each other on respecting human rights, that they would try to outdo each other on the survival rate of children or to shine in education.” Ramadan concedes that “[the World Cup is] the only event where people around the world can speak the same language, embrace the same feeling, and showing numerous kind of emotions through out the tournament period.”

However, where Annan maintains that “for a country like Angola, which knew years of misery, the World Cup will bring a sense of renewal”, Ramadan argues that “whether African teams will win the World Cup or not, they still won it as a loser,” because football “still does not help thousands of African in quenching thirsty throat [sic] everyday.”

There is truth in both of these positions. Much of the study of traditional International Relations revolves around the nebulous concept of ‘power’ - the power of football is limited, in that it cannot in itself change the ’system’ (or the society in which it is played, as I argue above). Football, ultimately, is a game - and even the world’s most popular game cannot change the world. The power of football comes from its ability to influence, to catalyse, to inspire and to provoke. Football facilitates, but it does not cause.

Which brings me to T&T. Over at Radio Open Source, a piece entitled “Explaining the World Cup” argues that “to the Brazilians and the Germans [football is] a birthright; to England it’s a reliable Mets-style heartache. To Trinidad and Tobago: a miracle.”

A miracle?

Interesting word, ‘miracle’. One that can mean anything from the theologically inspired “event that cannot be explained by the known laws of nature and is therefore attributed to a supernatural or divine power” to the more prosaic “any amazing or wonderful occurrence” [saith Google Definitions]

Well, some people say that God is a Trini, and I’m certainly in accord with the view that our World Cup qualification was both amazing and wonderful. In this context however, ‘miracle’, connotes something finite - a ‘one and done’ event. I want T&T to regularly qualify for the World Cup; I want us to put a stop to the blithe references to the Soca Warriors as “the worst team in the tournament”, 23 men and a country who are “chuffed just to be here.”

Not even victory over England on June 15th (as much of a miracle as that might be) would be enough to ensure that November 16 2005will be looked upon as the the beginning of a much longer journey than one that terminates in Germany. One week after we beat Bahrain (oh, how I love typing that), Clyde Harvey, a distinguished Trinidadian priest and scholar, posed the question: where will the road to Germany and beyond actually lead us as a nation and as individuals?

His words cut through the noisome flurry of celebrations and promotions and fetes and bacchanal, but only for a moment. Trinbagonians have alarmingly short memories, and even shorter attention spans. It is this that led ‘truetrini’, a regular poster over at the Soca Warriors Forums and one of the thousands of supporters headed to Germany, to make the following comments:

It is time we separate all the hype surrounding the Soca Warriors qualification to the 2006 World Cup in Germany and deal with the harsh realities that abound…For a good week after that victory, the talk of the town was the Mighty Soca Warriors. Even the fractioning [sic] politicians were talking about unifying power of the team. I was proud as proud can be. Fast forward to today…We need to stop with the fantasy that this is going to be some sort of platform for future successes on the international football scene. Because if history is a guide, nothing is going to change in terms of our football administration. The TTFF will continue to be high handed and refrain from development, the Government will continue to display apathy toward sports and sportsmen/women, using them only for political mileage.

Therein lies both the essence of the Trinbagonian attitude and a testimony to the limited capabilites of fooball to effect change. It is tempting to simply agree with truetrini’s synopsis, and to follow his further advice that we ought just to “enjoy the dance, let us celebrate our involvement in what is the world’s biggest and best sporting celebration and event, and put to rest all the unrealistic expectations, praying for the best, but preparing for the worst.” But I don’t.

Dance I might and celebrate I will (whether we advance to the next round or nay), but I won’t accept that Trinidad and Tobago will forever be confined to the echelons of football non-achievers. We have the potential for greatness and glory: “small country, big passion” is the tagline of the offical Soca Warriors website, and as local band jointpop declare in their song Little Giants, with a nod to Mr. Robert Nesta Marley, we may well be the “small axe, cutting down big tree.”

Or we might not. We might fail to nurture our young talent, or to given women’s football the attention (and funding) it deserves. Our football administrators might become so caught up in political machinations and petty feuding that the game is left to run itself - into the ground. Our warrior spirits might falter; we may well lose more than we win and then give up the fight.

If that happens, however, then we were never true Soca Warriors, individuals (to quote Father Harvey again) “of skill, discipline and hard work, with that capacity to laugh at oneself which is a mark of a true Trini.”

There is so much that is wrong with and in Trinidad and Tobago. The success of our football team must serve as a reminder that there is also much that is right. We owe it to Captain Yorke and his men to ensure that their achievement will be the first of many more. We owe it to ourselves as a country to apply that same Warrior Spirit to every aspect of our political, economic and social lives.

Vibes it up.