Translation of "Desconfianza Ciega" by Ginés Cutillas

Blind untrust

I’m on a modest soccer team that practices at night. So modest that we've spent the past few months with half the field in complete darkness.

On more than one occasion we’ve witnessed how they fix the spotlights, but something else always breaks down inevitably covering that chunk of ground in shadows. We had no choice but to get used to practicing on the side that was lit up.

The problem was when missed balls ended up on the dark side and a few players had go to look for them beyond the line traced by the light. We never saw them ever again: they simply disappeared, as if the blackness swallowed them.

We lost almost all the replacement balls the same way -the easiest to swindle-, so we demanded that the club buy more balls so that, at least, we could finish practices and convince the equipment manager to collect the balls that had gone past the line and bring them back each morning.

One night, we quickly ran out of balls. Aware that none of us were that naïve, we decided that practice was over and, downcast, we started to walk off the field, when something unexpected happened: someone threw us a ball from the other side. Confused, one of the guys kicked it back into the darkness. A few seconds later it came back.

It didn't take us long to organize scrimmages with our missing teammates. We threw them red and blue jerseys so they could divide themselves up, the same as we did on this side, and we made two teams.

From here, we just pass the ball to the other side where we know they're following our plays and wait, straining our ears, for it to appear again so we can continue with theirs.

When we hear them yell goal, the defense on this side celebrates, lifting up their shirts and doing the airplane. We're convinced that the forwards on the other side are doing the same thing.

Sometimes, with the intoxication of everything, we feel like crossing the line and celebrating together, but we don't trust them: why don't they do it?