If God Existed, He’d Be A Solid Midfielder

Aleksandar Hemon, Granta

First, a Little Bit about Me, though I am Not Important Here

I came to this fine country from Sarajevo, Bosnia-Herzegovina, in the winter of 1992, a couple of months before the war started. I did not plan to stay in the USA unless someone offered me a job, which crossed no American mind. I came to Chicago to visit my friend George and was supposed to fly back on May 1, the day the siege of Sarajevo commenced. Thus I got stuck here, no job or money, my only asset George and a couple of his friends. My life changed overnight and I became profoundly miserable: I watched CNN extensively and voyeuristically as it covered the slow killing of my hometown, and felt thoroughly disconnected from the world around me.

By Bosnian standards, I had been an athletic person. Even though I smoked two packs a day for years and enjoyed many an alcoholic potion, I had played soccer once or twice a week since time immemorial. But upon arriving in this country, I gained weight due to a diet based on Burger King and Twinkies and exacerbated by a series of tortuous attempts to quit smoking. Furthermore, I couldn’t find anybody to play soccer with. Not playing soccer tormented me. It wasn’t about being healthy – I was young enough not to care about my health – it was about feeling fully alive. Without soccer I was at sea, mentally and physically. More…

Photo by Velibor Bozovic via Granta.com