rose quarter-drifting
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THE GAME OF THE BALL, PT. I
🕑 Added 2025-09-28 23:17:42 +0000 UTCOn a summer’s day an alien lands in Buenos Aires. He steps out of his spaceship, conical and rough like a snail’s shell, and speaks through a glistening translation bubble. He says, to the bewildered boy in front of him, “I have heard of your great game, fútbol, and I want to see it.”
So the boy nods, because he is an enterprising sort who has been taught to always be polite to strangers, and he leads the alien back to his home. He kicks off his shoes, sits on the couch, and switches the channel to today’s match. Uruguay is playing Chile in the Copa América. The alien watches for some time, but does not seem pleased.
“This is a broadcast signal being displayed to me on a screen, child. This is not fútbol: I want to see fútbol.”
So the boy, who is of course familiar with the nuanced differences between representation and reality says, “I understand. The television is only an object which can mediate the images produced by football to me. Follow me.”
And so the two of them walk to the stadium in the center of town, and they sneak in without paying, and the boy says, “This is the Estadio Monumental. This is where Maradona and Pele played, some of the greatest players of all time.”
And the alien shakes his head, more frustrated now. “Nonsense! This is not fútbol! Fútbol is a game, not a big building, or a field with goals on it.”
“I get it!” says the boy. “These are merely the instruments of play for fútbol, its toys and stage. If you want the thing itself, then follow me.”
And so the two of them go out behind the boy’s house, and walk down the street to where some of his friends are playing among themselves. “Come on, join us, Felipe!” shouts one, but Felipe shakes his head.
“I am too busy illustrating a parable,” he says meekly, before turning to the alien. “See, here it is: real fútbol.”
The alien, however, shakes his head. “No, boy. These are only people playing fútbol. The game itself is nowhere to be found, and I need a sample of it for my library of specimens.”
“Oh,” says the boy, and then laughs. “Silly alien! Fútbol is a set of procedures which can be instantiated at any moment. It is a socially mediated cultural object, and not a physical one!”
The alien frowns. He is very confused. “Why are you calling me an alien?” he asks. “You’re an alien!”
The game of the ball is an idea I have had for a while and will be the subject of next month's Patreon post. As I'm still tinkering with and refining it, here's something of a prologue to it.
