Last month I spent three weeks in the far west of North Carolina, specifically the quite wonderful city of Asheville. Tucked away in the nook of the Appalachians, it serves as a bastion of alternative culture and liberalism in an otherwise conservative state. The live music scene is almost embarrassingly rich in terms of quality and variety, and vegan or vegetarian restaurants cluster together; Friday night is drum-circle night. I once knocked over a tub of garlic cashews in a supermarket - the friendly assistant offered me a beatific smile and the assurance that I possess a clumsy star-sign, and thus the accident was almost cosmically pre-ordained.
The city also boasts a thriving ‘soccer’ culture, and almost immediately (within half a day of arriving, in fact) I was mournfully told by a Stoke City supporting archaeologist that I had missed the previous weekend’s soccer festival. On the other hand, getting involved in a pickup game was as easy as falling off a log, and when the offer came I gratefully accepted. Far too hot, but I didn’t embarrass myself.
In the bar afterwards a discussion arose about football’s fight for breathing space amongst the sports that traditionally occupy the American psyche. Why, I asked, after so many years of immigration do we not have a US national side crammed with the sons of Mexicans, Hondurans, Salvadorians and other nationals from Central America?
“Did you see who you played with today?” asked Rich, an accountant. “White guys. It’s the same in our weekend leagues, too. You don’t see many Hispanics playing in our teams.” But surely, I replied, they must play somewhere? “Sure. You just don’t see them.”
Rich had me fascinated as he explained the difference between the leagues he played in and those of what he described as ‘the shadow leagues’, unsanctioned and unrecognised competitions consisting almost exclusively of Hispanic players. The key reason behind this segregation is, unsurprisingly, money.
Firstly, to register a team in the Buncombe County Parks and Recreation leagues costs $1,200 per year; contrast this with the $400 - $600 asked by many of the unofficial leagues. To a working-class immigrant, the choice is already made easy. Then consider the fact that the leagues recognised by the county are purely amateur, whereas the best players in the shadow leagues can supplement their income through relatively high-stakes competitions.
“A local businessman might sponsor a cup competition with a one, two-thousand prize pot at the end”, says Rich. “It gets to the point where the best players are getting paid by the week, and they’re almost earning the equivalent of a living wage through football.”
However, this rather DIY approach does come with its drawbacks. “They play on the same fields as the regular leagues, but of course, they’re in use most of the weekend,” continues Rich. “It’s not unusual to hear of a game between two Hispanic teams kicking off at seven in the morning.”
Then there’s the question of insurance. “If I broke my leg this weekend and couldn’t go into work, no big deal, my fees go towards insurance. If I sustain the injury whilst playing in a recognised competition on county property I’m covered. The same can’t be said for these shadow games.”
For anyone working in a manual trade (an area in which Hispanics are over-represented) a broken leg or similar type of injury could prove ruinous. Through participation in these unofficial leagues many workers could be placing their livelihoods at risk, toeing a thin line between the potential for picking up a few hundred extra dollars and invalidating themselves out of their day job.
The repercussions of the existence of backlot leagues are perhaps yet to be felt, though it is telling that in the squad to face Ecuador earlier this month the US team contained only three players of Hispanic descent. I do not doubt that this ratio will increase in the future, but the percolation of Hispanic talent into the American mainstream may take longer than it should thanks to the popularity of the unofficial leagues.
Tags: Hispanic League, USA