sports

Surfer Girls in the New World Order

barbara — Wed, 22 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000

I was twelve years old when my mom moved to South Florida and I was first introduced to surf culture. My step-dad’s shed was filled with boards all different shapes and sizes and on the few rare occasions I did paddle out, it was always with him by my side—and with his help navigating the powerful ocean. I was interested and wanted to learn, but I was scared. I wouldn’t be good enough, I wasn’t strong enough, the boys would make fun of me, I’d get in their way, they wouldn’t like me. I had never been one to be intimidated before, especially by boys, but standing on the beach in my first bikini made me acutely aware of myself and of the dozens of boys that dominated the landscape. No matter how I longed to rush into the water and ride waves, my feet remained planted on the beach.

Krista Comer recognizes these and a host of other issues and arguments related to girls’ experience in surf culture. But rather than positing girls as victims of alienation, Comer explores the innovative and inspiring way in which girls have participated in a traditionally male-dominated sub-culture and what this means for women’s presence in the growing global economy.

Immersing herself in girl surf culture, Comer has constructed an accessible body of research that, while very readable, offers a fiercely intelligent commentary. Seeking a deeper understanding of women’s relationship to surfing as play and profession, and how this constructs and re-constructs traditional female gender roles, Comer focuses her research on the emergence of female professional surfers and their role in developing surf camps and trainings that enable girls and women to learn to surf. Positing surf culture as a unique site where community, play, environment, and economy intersect in a common narrative shared by most who participate in the culture, Comer pays specific attention to how female presence in the growing surf industry is part of an increased presence in the greater global economy: “Surfing thus constitutes rhetoric of optimism about the potential of globalization to advance the greater good.”

Beginning with an analysis of Gidget and the Las Olas Surf Camp, Comer deftly articulates how participation in surfing offers girls a space for the “expansion of gender norms related to femininity,” while also remaining critically aware of the traditional gender boundaries that remain intact, granting access only to a certain type of surfer girl. The author calls into account the privileged position of those who fit the “babe” archetype, such as World Champion and a-typical “California girl” Lisa Anderson, while offering examples of talented surfers such Mexican native Sofia Silva Sanchez, whose opportunities for professional development are hindered by their “non-babeness.” While the bulk of the industry has been created in Mexico, Comer points out not a single Mexican women owns or even manages a surf business and even as recently as 2004, no Mexican women or girls surfed the local break, the first being Sanchez.

Surfer Girls in the New World Order is thorough and acute; Comer situates her argument in the lived experiences of surfer girls and women while also drawing important connections to surfing’s place in the broader context of social and economic ideologies. By dedicating a significant amount of her process to exploring gender construction in the surf world as it is related to girls, her work continually celebrates the “playfulness of girl culture.”

Written by: Alicia Sowisdral, December 21st 2010

Sport, Power and Society: Institutions and Practices

priyanka — Mon, 04 Oct 2010 16:00:00 +0000

Edited by Robert E. Washington, David Karen

Westview Press

Presenting the multifaceted world of sports, this book introduces a multitude of perspectives into the sports world. While encompassing many specifics about the whole idea of what makes up sport, this book offers views into aspects that create the sports world into a fully participatory and also a spectator-oriented institution. With many selections of essays that delve into specific topics like ownership, media, participation, violence and more, the institution of sport becomes a full-on demanding, powerful, industry like many other money-making organizations. In-depth and relatively stimulating, this compilation serves as terrific resource for readers interested in how sport has become, and continues to be, the "institution" it represents in many perspectives.

Not without rhetorical and sociological views, the book elaborates on many scholarly issues. The editors elaborate on each chapter heading to outline the premise for each collection of essays, culminating in the possible problems with sport in modern society. With this in mind, the reader may pick and choose essays that fit their own interests, from race issues to the politics of to fans of various sport to the money that supports specific sports. In sum, this book offers a huge amount of reading materials as well as resources for the readers.

Although published in 2010, some references for articles are gathered from 2000 and earlier. These research bases are older, and they serve a good base for starting research, but with technology and ten years, the articles in the book are outdated—a more recent selection of research may offer more current ideas and objective facts. As a compendium of resources, this reader or anthology serves as a good base for future research. For example, essays of sports ownership date to the late 1990s, and they are somewhat outdated for the reader of today.

However, in the end, the reader is left with a better understanding of the sports world and how it exists in our day-to-day living regardless of how much or how little we want it there. Its influence on society and children (as well as on adults) definitely makes the idea of sport a powerful tool in our lives. Modern society grabs onto the business of sport in many cases, and this leads to immense financial investments. Shocking at times, clearly disturbing at others, Sport, Power and Society: Institutions and Practices gives all of its readers a little more to chew on in its presenting of critical thinking about sport. Definitely one to keep on the shelf.

Written by: Carolyn Espe, October 4th 2010

Legendary

admin — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Mel Damski

Samuel Goldwyn, WWE Studios

Inspired by sports movies like Rudy and The Karate Kid, and presenting smatterings of others like Lucas and Hoosiers, the John Cena vehicle, Legendary is the WWE’s ninth foray into the movie making business. The movie centers on Cal Chetley (Devon Graye), a scrawny fifteen-year-old geek who earns pocket money by farming catfish. He’s sweet-natured, and enjoys a tight bond with his mother (Patricia Clarkson).

Cal has the obligatory brushes with bullies, three jackasses on the school’s wrestling team. When Cal isn’t being picked on or considering romantic advances from his neighbor, Luli (Madeleine Martin), he is yearning after the father he barely knew and the older brother who left the family after his father’s death. Eager to connect with his estranged brother, Cal decides to join the wrestling team and tracks his brother down.

Cal’s brother, Mike (John Cena), has spent the last ten years bouncing from dead-end job to dead-end job, drinking heavily, and bedding a bevy of women in the process. He is decidedly disinterested in reuniting with his little brother; however, a barroom brawl lands him in serious trouble and Cal helps get him off. Mike then begins coaching Cal.

The screenplay was written by John Posey, who also plays Coach Tennent. The script offers up dialogue that is filled with wisecracks, but is ham-fisted in some spots and too on-the-nose in others. I found the score by James Alan Johnston to be rather manipulative, too.

Legendary presents a plethora of stereotyped sports film characters. The hero is an underdog who teams up with a rough anti-hero to train toward the climactic contest. The bully is a jerk with an obvious Madonna-whore complex. The coach is tough-talking but soft-hearted. Luli and Cal’s mother do little more than play variations of the supportive woman behind the man. (I took exception to the “girl talk” scene in which Cal’s mother gives Luli advice right out of The Rules.) And Danny Glover’s Red is nothing more than what Spike Lee refers to as the “Super-duper magical negro”; the semi-clever plot twist at the end of the film doesn’t redeem this character’s shocking lack of a back story and direction.

Even the sequences were clichéd. The hero defends his lady’s honor at the school dance. The barroom fights that John Cena finds himself in feature muscled-up thugs with chips on their shoulders. Eighties-style heavy metal provides background noise for the too-numerous training and wrestling match montages. Even the fact that Cena lives in a squalid trailer park is a cliché.

All told, Legendary is guaranteed to do well with the eighteen-to-twenty-five demographic at which this movie was most definitely aimed. But I can’t see this film appealing to anyone else.

Written by: Ebony Edwards-Ellis, September 1st 2010

The Queen of the Ring: Sex, Muscles, Diamonds, and the Making of an American Legend

admin — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 17:01:00 +0000

By Jeff Leen

Atlantic Monthly Press

One of my most irritating memories of the early and mid-1980s is my younger brother's insistence on having TV wrestling in the background on Saturday mornings. Even at age nine, the “sport” seemed staged, hokey, and fake. But imagine a time when wrestling was based on skill as much as show, when young American women saw it as an escape from poverty as much as a pass into celebrity. Author and Washington Post editor Jeff Leen skillfully transports readers back to the period when wrestling had a cult following in his biography of the most famous female wrestler in America.

Exhaustively researched, The Queen of the Ring, Leen's biography of Mildred Burke, who helped shape the world of American and, later, Japanese women's wrestling, is a fast read. With an engaging writing style and a sympathetic voice, Leen chronicles the surprising rise and equally devastating fall of a tough, beautiful, and gullible Burke.

Drawing heavily on her unpublished autobiography, Leen shows the many sides of Burke. She was arrogant and grasped for the riches she never had, but also generous to those down on their luck. A savvy marketer who crafted an image, Burke was also innocent and all too trusting. A woman of many contradictions, Burke became a champion in professional sports, but she was almost always down for the count in her personal life.

Burke's success in a sport that was openly hostile to women—some states outright banned female wrestling competitions, considering it immoral—was no small feat in an era when women were largely seen and not heard, if they were seen at all. But with her manager and husband Billy Wolfe (if there's ever been a villain in black, it's this guy), she endured humiliation, emotional and physical abuse, and financial setbacks.

As a picture of the times, it's hard for the reader not to be outraged by the way women athletes were treated by managers, promoters, and their own husbands. It's equally telling that Burke eventually opened a school to train housewives to "fight back." What we now call domestic violence was still largely acceptable.

Whether or not you're interested in sports, The Queen of the Ring is an interesting look at both the woman and the era she helped define.

Written by: M.L. Madison, November 11th 2009

On the Line

admin — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 16:01:00 +0000

By Serena Williams

Grand Central Publishing

I love everything about the U.S. Open except the line calls.

I experienced this past weekend's U.S. Open upset for Serena Williams with a different perspective than if I hadn't read her memoir On the Line. The book is written in Serena's voice. It's personal, it's conversational, and that's why I like it. I enjoyed her reflection on her life thus far.

I have to say that Serena is a spoiled brat, but that observation comes from her directly. She tells stories that curled this big sister's toes of scheming to get her way, cheating, and destroying her sisters' property. In looking back at all that peeking thru her fingers, I respect Serena for her honesty and self-criticism, and I agree with her judgment that she was a horrible little sister!

Serena spends a lot of time defending her father from the criticism he still receives about his coaching style. While her mom was pregnant with Venus, Serena admits her father decided that they would raise two tennis champions, and well, they did. He and Serena's mom taught themselves the game by playing and watching videos then he taught his daughters while they were living in Compton by playing on public courts. Even if the man is a controlling jerk, as some said early in the Williams Sisters career, you have to admit there's no country club pedigree here!

Serena digs deep to tackle the class and racial privilege they smacked into when Venus hit the tennis scene in a chapter on the 2001 Indian Wells tournament. Clearly, the girls were raised with a keen sense of history, especially civil rights history, and I've always admired Venus and Serena both for the way they play and for their tip of the hat to those who came before them.

Serena has a clear sense of racial and gender justice. Not only does Serena spend time discussing race and class, but she addresses all the fat comments she has received over the years. Positive body image is big with her. She understands that, as an internationally known tennis player and someone with more money than most of us will ever know, she has a responsibility to others on many fronts. I didn't follow all the Oprah criticism when the star built a school in Africa, but Serena gives the best response to that criticism I've ever seen by wrapping her justification around a touching story of visiting difference countries in Africa and wanting to do something.

She also lets us in on how much fashion has always played a key part of her and Venus' game. They weren't strong women athletes who "discovered" fashion as a way to sell themselves to the media or fans. They are savvy business women who aren't afraid of taking chances. Along with her sister, Serena will continue to blaze a path for herself and for others.

Even if you aren't a tennis fan or even someone who follows the players closely, we all know that there are some players who make a splash and then disappear or even worse, publicly self-destruct. Pressure and age are often pointed to as the factors as well as pushy parents. It's clear from this memoir that Serena and Venus couldn't have been "The Williams Sisters" without each other. Serena Williams has it all and survives. She did it despite a battle with depression, which she outlines with grace.

Serena haters won't like this book at all, but if you are truly interested in finding out what makes this powerful woman tick, pick up this memoir. It reminds me that Serena's been counted out far too many times and has always come back. She dug herself a hole this weekend, but I have faith that she'll redeem herself and silence the critics... again.

Cross-posted from Viva La Feminista

Written by: Veronica I. Arreola, September 15th 2009

Stolen Bases: Why American Girls Don’t Play Baseball

admin — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 23:38:00 +0000

By Jennifer Ring

University of Illinois Press

Stolen Bases is as intelligent and powerful as any professional U.S. women’s baseball team would be, should be, and could be...if any were supported enough to exist. The book is a concise 180 pages, an assertive objection to the current status of baseball in the United States in its exclusion of women, and a worthwhile read for those who find themselves in the middle of the Venn diagram of athletes, spectators, and feminists.

Judging a book by its cover, it’s serious: red, white, and blue varsity-style lettering covers an action photograph of real women playing real baseball. I like that casual bookstore browsers may take in this positive representation as they walk by, and I’d encourage readers to pick it up.

The book’s subject matter is framed by author and political science professor Jennifer Ring’s personal love of baseball, and she uses the prologue and epilogue to recount her family’s attempts to make baseball more inclusive for her daughter. This, in turn, makes the issues feel more urgent and tangible. The reader is also drawn in by the humor inherent in the chapter headings, and even by small details like the author’s parenthetical inclusion of her friends’ and mentors’ favorite baseball teams in the acknowledgments.

The heart of the book, though, is a harder read. It is well-paced, informative, and is evidently well researched and supported. Baseball’s history is explained, almost decade by decade, and then systematically deconstructed to identify the choices, conditions, and decisions that have almost always led to the exclusion of women on all but the most amateur levels.

The book’s pace eerily echoes the history of baseball’s treatment of women. Again and again, Ring’s narrative excites and includes the reader, only for another obstacle to interrupt what could have been an amazing victory for female players and fans of what is culturally asserted to be a “national pastime.” Stark facts and their interpretations could make for depressing reading, but Ring’s skill as a storyteller is to weave her own wry asides into the account, acting as a guide the reader can identify with during the bleaker eras in women’s baseball history, and as a comrade when celebrating women’s baseball successes.

Stolen Bases most certainly supports feminist values, and is also particularly inclusive of race and class in its arguments. It does not, however, go into any depth regarding lesbian players (other than a cursory mention of ‘lesbianism’ being one of the feared outcomes offered up by those who opposed pro-ball for women). It also assumes the reader defines gender as a binary concept for the purposes of the arguments contained in the book.

By the end of Stolen Bases, many readers will feel spurred into action. Ring would have done well to include a model for grassroots supporters and a practical outline for baseball professionals and governing bodies, perhaps in appendices.

A few weeks ago, a girl named Mackenzie Brown in Bayonne, New Jersey hit a perfect little league game. Thanks to Stolen Bases, I’m much more able to appreciate what a fantastic achievement this is, and how much work still needs to be done to further promote women’s inclusion in baseball.

Written by: Chella Quint, June 26th 2009

No Girls in the Clubhouse: The Exclusion of Women from Baseball

admin — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 16:40:00 +0000

By Marilyn Cohen

MacFarland & Company

The premise of No Girls in the Clubhouse is that baseball could be successfully gender-integrated at all levels with no disadvantage to either side, but social expectations—not biological deficiency—exclude women from full participation in the sport. Feminists won't be surprised to learn how, in anthropologist Marilyn Cohen's analysis, the historical achievements of female baseball players have been obscured. Cohen writes that harassment, stereotyping, and social isolation have pressured women to stay out of baseball, while stigmatizing those women who do play. It is an old story, repeated in every designated male realm women have dared to enter.

Yet it is heartening to see this story told by a scholar as sharp as Cohen, and to find that the book's premise—intuitively felt by radical feminists—has the support of history and baseball professionals. No less than Hank Aaron, quoted by Cohen, asserts, "there is no logical reason why [women] shouldn't play baseball," a game that relies on timing and coordination, not pure physical strength.

Part I of the book tackles the history of female professional baseball players. These include Jackie Mitchell, who struck out Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig in an exhibition game; Toni Stone, Mamie Johnson, and Connie Morgan, who played major league baseball in the Negro American League (NAL); and Julie Croteau, the first woman to coach men's college baseball, who played on a winter league team. Cohen also devotes a chapter to the WWII-era All-American Girls Professional Baseball League (AAGPBL)—popularly known from the film A League of Their Own—as well as a chapter to the barnstorming Bloomer Girl teams of the decades before. These working-class teams, usually all-female except for male pitchers and catchers, played against male teams. Cohen cites male supporters of female baseball, like promoter Bob Hope (not the comedian), who in the '80s and '90s attempted to field an all-female minor league team that would play in the men's leagues.

Rather than chronicling an alternative herstory, the book's goal is to analyze the social world of female players—relationships to teammates, coaches, fans, opponents, and the media—and the construction of gender identity. Cohen is sensitive to race and class as well, factors that allowed some women to play while excluding others. The all-white AAGPBL did draft fair-skinned Latinas, but ignored black prospects like Stone, Johnson, and Morgan. Racial integration temporarily opened doors to these women, as black male players signed with Major League Baseball, and Negro American League teams sought new ticket draws. But both the AAGPBL and the NAL folded in the '50s, effectively closing professional baseball for women—the unfortunate outcome of dividing marginalized groups.

Part II is devoted to amateur baseball, inextricably linked to professional, as Cohen shows. Today, Little League teams are often gender-mixed—legally required by Title IX—but with puberty girls meet social pressure to switch to softball. Differences in field dimensions, ball size, and pitching mean that softball demands different skills. The result is that young women who want professional careers, groomed as softball players in their formative years, are disadvantaged beside young men who have had five to ten more years playing baseball. This deficit in skill-development, Cohen writes, accounts for a lack of qualified professional female baseball players. With the same training, some women surely could play co-ed baseball at every level—a provocative suggestion in a book well-worth reading.

Written by: Charlotte Malerich, June 8th 2009

The Off Season

admin — Sun, 29 Jul 2007 02:23:00 +0000

By Catherine Gilbert Murdock

Houghton Mifflin

This book, the sequel to Murdock’s Dairy Queen, may be marketed for young adults, but it’s not the equivalent of Sweet Valley High or The Princess Diaries, as both the book and heroine D.J. Schwenk have their feet planted firmly in reality. D.J. is a high school junior in rural Red Bend, Wisconsin, who has a lot on her plate: handling the pressure and jibes directed at her as the first female member of the high school football team; trying to figure out and handle her feelings for Brian, the quarterback of the rival high school team; and putting in hours of work on her family’s dairy farm, worrying that said farm will soon go under; trying to reconnect with her best friend, Amber, who has recently come out and is dating an older woman; and, of course, struggling with school work.

The Off Season is such a gripping read that I read it a single sitting. D.J. is such a believable, sympathetic character and faces up to her challenges (including a big one towards the end of the novel) that the reader empathizes with her throughout, even when she does something somewhat foolish. Murdock does an admirable job of capturing the rhythm and concerns of small town and rural life and has an ear for dialogue. The supporting characters, including her father, mother and younger brother, ring true and are fleshed out enough that they give us a picture of D.J.’s upbringing and family life. This is one-level headed girl with a down-to-earth grip on what’s important in life. I can’t wait to read of her further adventures.

Written by: Karen Duda, July 28th 2007

Dairy Queen

admin — Tue, 10 Jul 2007 12:15:00 +0000

By Catherine Gilbert Murdock

Houghton Mifflin

The word “charming” is too vague, and it makes me think of smarmy real estate descriptions, but…I…can’t…stop…myself. Dairy Queen is just so darn charming that I am forced to momentarily succumb. Catherine Gilbert Murdock has taken a traditional coming-of-age story about a tomboy in a small town and wrung some feisty new life out of it. Her character, DJ Schwenk, is a fifteen year old girl living on a dairy farm and learning about boys, football and family ties.

The first few pages of Dairy Queen are a little disconcerting. DJ speaks in the first person with a simple style and slangy dialogue, and she definitely sounds like a fifteen year old from Wisconsin. Once I settled into her voice, though, I was hooked. DJ is disarmingly honest, naïve, observant and witty - Gilbert Murdock’s voice is spot on. DJ’s mixed feelings toward her family are a realistic combination of humor, angst and love, but they aren’t overdone or corny.

Gilbert Murdock also skillfully addresses some of the issues female athletes face. DJ gets called a “dyke” on the football field, but what upsets her more is that the opposing player pinches her butt as he says it. DJ describes herself as “big” and “strong,” but she has no more than an occasional pang of jealousy for the thin “girly girls.” She may not be free from insecurity, but she is comfortable in her skin. I found DJ’s healthy body image and appetite to be a refreshing departure from teen weight and popularity obsession. More importantly, DJ’s focus on training and competition rings true to anyone who has ever loved to play. When that focus begins to clash with a budding summer romance, DJ is forced to make decisions she has been putting off all summer. By that point I was praying for a sequel as charming as the debut.

Written by: Jennifer Wedemeier, July 10th 2007

Kickoff

admin — Tue, 29 May 2007 13:00:00 +0000

By Donna King

Kingfisher

If the thought of being 13 again makes you more nauseous than nostalgic, Kickoff is not the book for you. However, if you feel free to channel your inner tween, read on. Donna King, also known as Jenny Oldfield, is the author of several children’s series novels, including the Horses of Half Moon Ranch. Kickoff introduces the reader to Tyra, the new American Army brat at a British school and a self-professed “soccer fanatic.” Kickoff is a light hearted and engaging read, and King keeps the tempo quick with short scenes, dialogue and plenty of on the field action.

King plays to what she feels are the common denominators for the Tyra’s age group: misunderstandings with parents, confusing interactions with peers and the class bully and participation in sports. Interestingly, King includes the female characters’ struggles with sexism in this mix, though the “sexist comments” are of a mild and rather hokey variety. The girls’ soccer team eventually earns the respect of the boys’ team, and in several scenes the boys even comment to one another on the talent of the girls. King’s presentations of these adolescent male conversations - and, in fact, much of the “slang” dialogue in the book - is optimistic and innocent at best, and eye-rollingly bad at worst. I doubt this will stop younger ones from enjoying the book, though they may think the characters are a little old-fashioned.

King writes positive, encouraging stories for a younger generation, and it is difficult to find fault with her messages of teamwork and tolerance (the heroine eventually befriends even the class bully). Parents will appreciate the King’s lack of focus on the physical appearance and sex appeal of the female characters, and the increased attention to their physical activity and friendship. I can still describe Nancy Drew’s “creamy complexion” to this day, so the experience of being “blind” to the characters’ physical appearance was slightly off-putting, but also liberating. In a contemporary culture of Bratz dolls and constant updates on Paris Hilton, what tween girl couldn’t use a little break?

Written by: Jennifer Wedemeier, May 29th 2007

Women and Sports in the United States

admin — Thu, 08 Mar 2007 02:19:00 +0000

Edited by Jean O’Reilly, Susan K. Cahn

Northeastern University Press

As the rather generic title would suggest, this collection is intended as an introduction to a broad field, perhaps a reader useful for a college-level Exercise Science or Physical Education seminar. There are nods to some of the pioneers of sport, essays on gender and athleticism—most of them more journalistic than scholarly—an all too brief treatment of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League of A League of Their Own fame.

There is a rehash of Brandi Chastain’s exuberant celebration after the 1999 Women’s World Cup and the sexualizing of athletes’ bodies in the media. There is coverage of Title IX, including a reproduction of the law itself, that revolutionized women’s sports in the 1970s. Lamentably, George Will, the notorious global warming-denier, is permitted space to spew his tiresome resentment against “the codification of feminism”—shocking, indeed!

What is missing, here, is the power of story: narratives of compelling individualism and achievement against odds that do much more to explain and account for the cultural pervasiveness of sport than essays such as are presented here. The book mentions that in 1974 Little League Baseball began to allow girls to participate after losing a lawsuit. That may well be of historical consequence, but there are powerful baseball stories that the editors overlook: the story of Pam Postema, minor league umpire from 1977 to 1988—and major league umpire in the spring of 1988, who was victimized by discrimination of the Jackie Robinson variety and was driven from the sport. Or Illa Borders, a pitcher who in 1998 proved that women could succeed in competition with men in professional baseball.

As an introduction to a burgeoning field, this collection is useful, but it may fall short of contributing to the growing excitement, building story by story, achievement by achievement, that surrounds women’s athletics.

Written by: Rick Taylor, March 7th 2007

Goal Dreams

admin — Mon, 05 Mar 2007 13:15:00 +0000

Directed by Maya Sanbar, Jeffrey Saunders

Arab Film Distribution

Originally projected onto the Separation Wall in Palestine/Jerusalem on the eve of the 2006 World Cup, Goal Dreams is a documentary account of the struggles the Palestine National (Football) Team faced to whip up what is so strikingly absent in Palestinian culture: hope. Even if you don’t give two stuffed grape leaves about sports, this edu-docu-drama will capture, break and embolden your heart. The sport itself is not entirely incidental, but the film is about unity amongst people who have been essentially homeless for over fifty years.

The football (that’s soccer, you know) players, all of whom have Palestinian blood, come to Egypt from around the world to play for Palestine. Goal Dreams highlights the thirty incredibly stressful days prior to the “decision match” between Palestine and Uzbekistan, which will determine who goes on to play in the World Cup.

Training camp, if it can be called that, takes place in Egypt because (in case you didn’t know) there’s political tension in Israel and Palestinian Territories. As the film observes, any discussion about Palestine becomes—inevitably—a political discussion. Goal Dreams shows-not-tells what it means to be a Palestinian today, whether in New York, Chile or Gaza. Strangely, the team’s coach is a very difficult to like Austrian named Riedl. Given to fits of brow furrows and eye rolling, Riedl yells a lot, but does little coaching.

The team’s goalkeeper, Ramzi Saleh—a distractingly beautiful Gazan Palestinian—is key in keeping our non-politically-based attention. He is a devoted husband, father, son and brother. We kind of love him for that. However, we can’t help thinking about the palpable absence of women in this story. The women we do see are wearing abayas; some are munaqqabat (women who wear niqab, a full face cover).

Additionally, one player makes a frat boy observation about Swedish girls and Riedl considers “We are looking like girls!” the ultimate insult. (The Palestinian Territories National Women’s Soccer Team might disagree.)

Maya Sanbar, a Brit with Palestinian heritage, and Jeffery Saunders, a Jewish-American, are skilled directors who keep an unflinching tone throughout the film. There is a tastefully indulgent moment at the end when a player opines, “everyone should dream because without dreaming, there is no life.” Nice by itself, but even nicer with an image of David Beckham shouting from a wall ad in the background.

Written by: Michelle C. Schaefer, March 5th 2007