Battlefield

For an average person, this is just a field consisting of little rubber pellets and long strands of artificial grass, but for soccer players, it is a battlefield in which their sweat, tears, and blood go into; the amount of this depend on how much effort and heart is put into each training, game, and battle. Drama at school, homework that is not complete, family problems or misfortunes–this all goes away the moment that my cleats step onto the field. All that matters is that I am ready to play. Hundreds of cleats step onto the turf during the course of one day; not to mention the different brands. On weekdays for training as the sun sets, there are six lights that illuminate the once dark field. These lights replace the sun and provide light for practices during the week.

There are 6 goals that are scattered around the field: two normal sized and four that are built slightly smaller and flimsier. During the week, all of these goals are in use by the numerous amounts of teams that practice here. These are the goals that I score on, the goals that the goalies defend, and the goals that are carried around to fit the next drill. The two normal goals have big, black, pocketed wheels to roll while the smaller ones are so light that they can be carried by a couple of people. For practice, there are countless teams training at once; it is very crowded. My coach—makes us run and turn, dribble and shoot, pass and sprint—to improve our skill.

Teams make do with the space they have: if they have a lot they scrimmage, if they have half a field they shoot or cross, or if they have merely a corner they do possession or skill work. Surrounding the field there is a black fence three feet tall; to protect children, the top spikes are covered by a yellow plastic cover. Between the fence and the field, a concrete sidewalk separates them. There are two worn down drinking fountains on either end of the field. Healthy grass filled mountains surround the fence on three of the four sides; on the fourth side there is a black asphalt parking lot with poorly painted lines. The parking lot is the first symbol that shows whether the field will be crowded or empty.

When Luchessi is empty, it is one of the most peaceful places in the world; when it is full it is the loudest place. In the morning during the weekend, air is still, noise is silent, and peace fills the air. In the afternoon during the week, wind is vicious, noise is loud, and peace is disrupted. Although it is a soccer field, lacrosse trains on it as well. They consume our field leaving us to panic for space. Luchessi is the only turf field with lights in Petaluma. When there is not space, we frantically change our schedule; practicing at Casa Grande, Rancho Cotate, or Sonoma State University.

While I play, whether in training or a game, I can hear the screams for the ball by many different voices. I can hear the sound of the ball as two people go into a tackle. I can hear the yells of an injury that just happened. I can hear the cheers of the classmates, friends, and family on the sideline. I can hear the ball bounce off of the protruding goal post. It sounds as if somebody shot a gun; this is followed by ‘awes’ by the crowd by the near miss. Arriving to the field on a hot day I can smell the rubber of the turf and the stench of the portable potties and the sweat of the players and the leather of the used cleats and the breath of my teammates as we catch a breath and the cow manure of Petaluma.

This fake grassed field is used by many: young children, preteens, and teenagers. It provides the same purpose for all; a place to play soccer. On this field, the young start their career and the old end it; the young are barely finding family in their teammates and the old are familiar to them, the young begin their relationship with soccer and the old continue their committed relationship with it; the young dream of their prosperous future and the old are living theirs, the young say hello and the old say goodbye. This field allows dreams to come true. I started off as a young player; I grew and soon I will be saying goodbye. I gave it my all on Luchessi. I cried. I sweat. I bled.

Mimi