On Soccer

Apologies for the long delay between posts. The last several weeks have been very busy with trips and getting into a groove of everyday life.

So some of my classmates and I decided to attend a Moroccan soccer match between the main team from Rabat, FUS, and the main team from Casablanca, Raja. As we arrive at the stadium we see at least 20 kids (10-15yrs) jump the barrier at the entrance and storm the stadium. No big deal. We get in line, get our tickets, and make it through the gate with the help of a Moroccan police officer. We get to talking with the police officer and he does not appear pleased with the tickets we bought for ourselves; particularly after finding out we were American. He decides that he will take us to new seats. We pass through the players area to the main entrance where we are greeted by a doorman and a very nice lobby. Clearly, these are not the seats we paid for. The police decided it would be best to put us in the most expensive seats in the house, for safety purposes. We were about 5 feet from where the King would watch games if he were in attendance. The game wasn't particularly interesting though there was considerable tension among the fans. A flare was one of the more exciting moments.

However, things got interesting at the end of the game. We were able to leave the stadium just fine and kept asking police officers where we could get a taxi. They all pointed in the same vague direction. After some time of walking and waiting we were presented with an opportunity. A van, crammed full of Moroccans, pulled up and offered to take us to the taxis for 5 dirham. This sounded good to me. For the record though, the van was your stereotypical kidnap/bad guy van. A friend and I took them up on their offer and 10 minutes later we were at a main traffic circle with tons of taxis. Here's the problem though, several of our friends didn't feel comfortable with the van concept. They chose to wait for a taxi back near the stadium.

As my friend and I attempted to get a taxi to go pick them up, I get a phone call. Apparently, there are roving gangs of children armed with rocks attacking each other and anyone they find and they just so happen to be heading towards my friends near the stadium. My friend who came in the van and I immediately began to run back towards the stadium but we were stopped by police who had blocked the street and the sidewalk. Why? Because of these gangs of kids. As the police officer said, "There are groups of kids who don't know what's going on in their lives right now attacking people." We tried to explain to the police that our friends were down there and needed help. They laughed and told us that if we waited 20-30min our friends would certainly show up.

Anyway, to make a long story short. We attempted to get a taxi to go around the police blockade and rescue our friends but en route I received a call that Moroccan secret police had found our friends and were protecting them until transportation arrived. Essentially, they rode up on mopeds and started beating up children until a van arrived to take our friends to a taxi. We all made it safely home and learned to always travel in packs with sticks to fight off roving gangs of children.

The glass railing is the front edge of the King's box