This is what happens when you google “Jackson Pollock” and “boxing.”
International Association of Athletic Federations rule 147, regarding mixed-gender competition: Generally not OK. Especially not OK in a stadium. Basically, if I’m reading this correctly, this rule is meant to foreclose the possibility that anyone might accidentally think that men and women compete directly against each other. Because then the earth might open up and swallow the stadium whole.
David Getsy writes about Amber Hawk Swanson’s work in “Queer Exercises: Amber Hawk Swanson’s performance of Self Realization” (in GLQ‘s fall 2013 issue, which I edited). I can’t get enough of this.
UK-based artist Franko B’s most recent work—a contribution to a recent wave of compelling/challenging sports-related performance art.
I am trying to recall a story about a men’s team winning the World Cup, or any match, in such spectacular fashion that opens with an anecdote about the MVP telling their girlfriend to stay home. I’m happy to read this kind of thing in a feature, a profile of the player—but in what I understood to be a match report? For a World Cup Final?
This match report appeared in the Guardian; I was lured by the headline “Carli Lloyd shreds Japan.” But I couldn’t get past that intro! Otherwise, the author’s work on the tournament was OK; I just can’t understand that intro. It feels like it was cribbed from Gwen Oxenham’s feature story on Lloyd? (For a good match report, see Grant Wahl’s.)
In advance of Tuesday’s match, FIFA.com published an article about Alex Morgan. This English professor feels compelled to explore the quality and character of FIFA.com’s writing.
Morgan looking for a fairytale finish
Headline declares: do not be confused by gender ambiguous name. Alex Morgan is a girl, with girlish aspirations.
Alex Morgan is one of the most popular players in USA women’s football.
Alex Morgan is a popular girl.
A talented goalscorer with a style that is very easy on the eye and good looks to match, she is nothing short of a media phenomenon.
Where to start?
Describing Morgan as a “talented goalscorer” suggests she that has talents other than goalscoring—talents related to her popularity (e.g. she can twirl a baton and sing the Star-Spangled Banner; she makes a mean Negroni).
“A style that is very easy on the eye” is the kind of phrasing one associates with a real estate listing, or a QVC pitch. “A layout that is perfect for your entertaining needs.” “A cut that is easy on the figure.” It is, here, terrible writing—a poor use of “that.”
In general, this is a confusing sentence—it moves from her popularity, passes over her skills as a player (entertaining to that one, singular eye) and then lands on her beauty as an explanation for how well she works as an advertisement. A player that is very useful to your corporate sponsor.
There is more to Morgan than meets the eye, however.
That eye, again. Lest you missed FIFA’s obsession with looking at women’s bodies (what is underneath their kits? can they be tighter? more revealing? Are they really MEN?), FIFA.com reminds you that there is more to women than what you see with your eye.
A successful children’s writer, she has just published Hat Trick, the fourth book in her series The Kicks.
Women are women because, of course, they give birth to and then look after children. This is Alex Morgan’s ultimate purpose — this whole World Cup thing is a youthful enterprise. You can feel FIFA.com’s relief here: Princess Morgan’s physical skills, talent and competitive drive are ultimately oriented not toward destroying her opponents. It’s fodder for her children’s book series—which is not a business enterprise. It is an affirmation that Alex Morgan is, really, a girl. Interested in girls. But, you know, like, more like a mom rather than…well, never mind.
FIFA.com only markets itself, so there is no link to these books. So if you want to check them out, here you go.
The saga follows the adventures of Devin, a 13-year-old girl who moves from Connecticut to California and discovers in football a way to make friends and experience new adventures.
Rather wonderfully, FIFA.com misses the gender play of a woman writer named Alex centering a children’s book on a girl named Devin. It reminds me of the character Jo March, who slouches through Little Women declaring she wants to be a writer. She writes poems, plays and publishes a little newspaper. Little Women turned lots of girls into women writers—one would pretend to be Jo March, and write as Jo March. You become an author, in other words, by pretending to be the author you most admire. In Little Women, that act of imagination involves some cross-gender identification, because there were so few examples of successful women writers. There’s some slippage, in other words, between wanting to be a writer and not wanting to be a girl, and wanting to be a boy. It is not unlike the situation for girl athletes. There is a boyishness to the whole situation, and it is more generous to embrace that than to try to shut it down in some sort of homophobic panic.
I imagine Alex Morgan has these aspirations regarding the potential athleticism of the girls reading her books—that she’s making room for them. This is an extension of her operation as a role model–it is a way of capitalizing on that.
“I never imagined that I’d enjoy doing this so much,” the footballing wordsmith tells FIFA.com. “The opportunity came up in 2012 and I didn’t want to pass it up. I’m very happy with how popular it’s proved with young girls. It’s children’s literature and it’s easy to read.”
The use of “wordsmith” is evidence of a lack of wordsmithing.
Even children can learn about women’s football, Alex Morgan explains patiently to FIFA.com. Even you, FIFA.com can read Hat Trick.
Not content with that, she has also written a book about her experiences at the London 2012 Olympic Games, where she won gold with her country, while a pilot episode of the cartoon version of The Kicks has just aired on TV.
One might, here, consider Morgan’s business acumen. One might invoke Mia Hamm—whose Go for the Goal sat on the New York Times Best Seller’s list for ages. Hamm also published a children’s book, as well as a skills-based DVD. She is an important model for young women athletes looking to capitalize on the very limited possibilities afforded to them, when it comes to making money off the game. One might remind readers that when women try to market themselves, they are pressured to market themselves to children, because the superstructures of sports have a great deal of trouble believing that one might use women’s ferocity, competitiveness and ability to sell goods to adults.
Alex Morgan knows that the lazy eye of FIFA.com is more interested in her marketability than in her skills as a player—and that this is an extension of the larger problem regarding FIFA’s stupid aggression towards all things related to the women’s game.
“If it’s a success, they might show the whole season, which is based on the first of the three books I wrote, called Saving The Team,” said the Portland Thorns forward, clearly excited at the prospect of her stories potentially becoming the female version of the hugely successful Captain Tsubasa series.
Yes, a girl can dream. Even a girl who plays on a football team. I bet Marta had dreams like this. But. Lesbian.
For the time being, however, the intrepid Morgan has other things on her mind than her successful writing career, not least Tuesday’s FIFA Women’s World Cup Canada 2015™ semi-final against Germany in Montreal, a game in which she will be hoping to add to the one goal she has scored in the tournament so far.
Intrepid is a strange word choice. Here it serves to render Morgan into a cartoon character not unlike those that people her books. And by the way, there’s this thing happening — FIFA Women’s World Cup Canada 2015™.
“The two best teams in the world are coming face to face,” said the striker, who turns 26 on Tuesday.
[Happy Birthday Alex Morgan. Milk those bastards for all that they are worth.]
“It’s virtually a final. Germany are a great side. We’ve watched nearly all of their games, and they’re very strong in defence and dangerous in the air and with the ball at their feet.
“We need to watch out for the knockdowns too and for Celia Sasic and Anja Mittag, who are both a big threat up front.”
Thank goodness FIFA.com got some quotes from Princess Morgan, because FIFA.com does not know enough about either team to make any informed observations about the match.
It was seven years ago that Morgan burst on to the international scene at the FIFA U-20 Women’s World Cup Chile 2008, which USA won, after beating Germany in the semis. As well as a winner’s medal, the forward also walked away with the adidas Silver Ball and the adidas Bronze Boot, and scored the goal of the tournament in the final.
Here we have FIFA.com plagiarizing from US Soccer: “She burst onto the international scene at the 2008 FIFA U-20 Women’s World Cup.” You can spot FIFA.com plagiarism by the appearance of movement in a sentence. The sentence falls apart once US Soccer’s writer leaves the pitch. Also, and here I am just being petty, I’m pretty sure “adidas” is supposed to be “Adidas.” [I stand corrected, the one thing FIFA.com does not get wrong is the spelling of its corporate collaborators.)
“A lot has changed since then,” she said, casting her mind back. “I’ve matured as a person, a player and a team-mate, and it’s been a great journey.
“That was my first tournament in front of more than 500 people and I’ve learned to deal with the difference at this level.”
The crowd at Montreal’s Olympic Stadium will be a good deal bigger than that.
Morgan throws some words at FIFA.com. There is no one on the other end of the line.
And with the US border lying so close, Jill Ellis’ side can expect plenty of support in the stands.
I love the image of the US-Canada border just lying around, like someone forgot to pack it into the van.
FIFA.com promises a dutiful crowd. We can expect support. Here I am, FIFA.com tells us, showing up for my job. Supporting the women. Because I have to. You can expect that much.
“It’s a World Cup with a little bit of a difference,” explained Morgan. “There have been so many USA fans at the last few games that it’s felt like we’ve been playing at home, even though we’re in Canada. We have a lot of support and our families come to see us more often.”
FYI, people from the United States think of Canada as a kind of attic.
One person close to Morgan’s heart who has not been around, however, is her husband, Sporting Kansas City midfielder Servando Carrasco, who is on duty with his team in MLS.
Don’t worry readers. Alex Morgan is not a lesbian. You can always tell who is a lesbian because there is no mention of partners, often no mention of family at all. Lesbian athletes crawled as babies out of smoldering meteors sent to Earth from planet Badass; they roam the world scoring goals with no sense of purpose beyond the game.
“We’ve hardly seen each other lately,” she explained. “We’re obviously both very busy right now, though the fact that we’re both soccer players means we understand each other better. We understand the commitment involved and we support one another.”
Thank god for that.
Touching her wedding ring, she added: “We have to make a lot of sacrifices for our work and our marriage, though it’s just a question of finding a balance and helping each other to keep pushing on.”
In case you missed it, Madame Morgan is married, and she has clearly studied her heterosexual talking points. Sacrifice, commitment, something, something.
But as she fiddles with her ring, you know her mind is elsewhere. (Note: her US Soccer profile focuses on her relationship with her sisters, and the fierce sense of competition that characterizes her family. In general, US Soccer has gotten better at fighting its sexist and homophobic impulses.)
As busy as they are, Morgan and her husband are determined to see each other on Sunday, when the Final of Canada 2015 takes place.
“We’re taking it one game at a time,” said Morgan, a member of the USA side that finished runners-up to Japan at Germany 2011. “We’ve been playing better and better as the tournament has gone on and obviously our goal is to take that trophy back home again.”
The amount of attention FIFA.com gives to her marital status is actually MORE offensive than the attention FIFA.com gives to her looks. She tries to redirect the conversation back to something related to her actual job.
The last time the Stars and Stripes did that was in 1999.
FIFA.com does not know the difference between a flag and a soccer team.
Sixteen years on, Morgan has the chance to fashion another happy ending for American women’s football.
Morgan. Girl. Style. Fashion. Wedding. Something like that.
This week, 23 Spanish national team players published a letter calling for the removal of their manager Ignacio Quereda, and an end to the national federation’s abusive relationship the women’s game. Billy Haisely published an excellent overview of this story on Deadspin. [I wrote about this problem in 2011, and have re-published that text at the end of this post.]
Spain’s women’s team has been on my mind for a long time. In 2011, a year after the men won their World Cup, the women had never even qualified for either a World Cup or an Olympics. They’d had the same coach since 1988. Some of the best Spanish players refused to play on the squad. And yet there has been no active reporting on the problem.
In 2011, as far as I could tell, the situation of Spain’s women’s team was widely known but discussed only within the very tiny community of fans following international women’s football. How is it that I’m one of the few people to have actually published about this? I’m not a sports journalist. I have zero contacts to that level of the game. I am, quite simply, a fan. My 2011 post was largely speculative. I don’t recall seeing a single story between 2011 and 2014 which took up this question. Quite the opposite. Spain’s qualification was taken as a sign that things were “improving.” (That’s always the narrative in the women’s game, things are “improving.”)
The situation of the Spanish women’s national program really gets my goat—it’s a double insult. First we have the obscenity of the way the RFEF treats the women’s program; then we have the media’s indifference to what is OBVIOUSLY a good news story. I can hardly see straight when I think about it. Maybe, with 23 players coming forward — and with a stream of stories emerging in Spain’s sports media — we’ll see some change.
And then I think…
BRAZIL’S WOMEN’S TEAM DID THIS IN 2007, publishing an open letter in O Globo. NOTHING CHANGED. NOTHING.
There is a problem in how we tend to approach these stories. These are not “just” stories about sexism. They are stories about corruption in the game.
It was a former international player who explained this to me. What keeps anyone in a position for an insane amount of time in football, in spite of mountains of evidence of their stupidity and incompetence?
Corruption, and nepotism. The women’s game is hobbled by the same cheats who hobble the men’s game, and we need to get just as angry about it. We need to organize against it. We need to stand in solidarity with our Brazilian and our Spanish sisters.
It is corrupt to leave an abusive, incompetent manager in his position for decades. It is corrupt to fire the people who try to change things. And the media is complicit in that corruption when it does not treat that story with the same level of seriousness with which it treats transfer rumors.
I have so much respect for these 23 players from Spain: in coming forward in such an environment some of them have no doubt said goodbye to international competition forever. That is a horrible thing. But those same women know that they’ve also been shackled by their own desire to play for the team—the level of incompetence, the abuse, its multi-generational duration—it is not tolerable.
Young players in past have imagined that through hard work and forbearance, by cooperating with the existing structures, by showing their countrymen that the team has the talent to break into the highest levels of play—that somehow they will change their federation’s attitude. Time and time again we see that this is not true. No one with any awareness can believe that hard work itself is the answer for women players. It is not the case that women athletes can, through their ability, overcome the corruption, sexism and homophobia of their federations.
Brazil’s national women’s football program is governed by corrupt bureaucrats who see women as sub-human, and the women’s game as just another site through which they can practice their grift. Marta and her teammates have been trying to change that for at least eight years.
Women athletes in these programs are deeply alienated from the federation’s administrative structures. Women athletes in these programs see no future for themselves—not on the pitch, not as coaches, not in any of the structures that govern the game. If they are lucky, they leave their country. Or just make peace with it, stick with a grassroots sports scene, and do something else with their lives.
Many women’s teams have every right to just flat out strike. FIFA’s structures force women’s programs into a deeper part of its sewer—where men are coerced into complicity with FIFA’s corruption through the promise of fame and financial fortune, women are coerced into silence with the threat of being removed from the game altogether.
The more people who stand with these athletes, right now, the better.
Catalan women play like Catalan men. I make this banal observation from the stands of the third annual seven-aside women’s tournament in San Celoni, a short train ride from Barcelona.
Like everyone else outside Germany, people in Spain are only dimly aware of the Women’s World Cup.
Even the women attending this tournament didn’t have plans to watch the opening match. At least half this crowd will head from the pitch to Barcelona Pride. (The World Cup opener is also coordinated with Berlin’s Gay and Lesbian Pride festival).
That people here would be indifferent makes sense: Spain’s national women’s team didn’t come close to qualifying. They have never qualified for either the Olympics or the World Cup.This should give us pause. Not only are the men champions of everything, the top Spanish female athletes play in professional and semi-professional leagues alongside national team players who will be playing in the World Cup. They more than hold their on at the international level. Something is clearly wrong.
As I watch the San Celoni tournament, I’m constantly on my feet. The skill level at this recreational event on the edge of the Pyrenees is shocking in and of itself, but it also raised many questions for all that it implies about the quality of Spanish women players. Why aren’t they in Germany right now? The mostly Catalan players in this tournament are completely unafraid to hold the ball, and show tremendous trust in each other. They pass the ball back into tight spots, to defenders who then coax it through a wall of attack.
Some have a zen-like calm, as if it never occurs to them they might lose possession. That has its own unnerving effect on opponents. You can break a team with that kind of self-confidence. It’s seven-a-side, so it’s a brutally fast game. The play is fluid – there is none of the blind, reactive play that comes from not having a plan. They know each other, pass and run into space and keep moving. And some of these women can score from any place on the pitch. (The level of the best players was described by the tournament organizers as a couple of steps down from Spain’s top division.)
There is no missing Barcelona’s influence. Or, perhaps it is more accurate to say that the men’s club is, as they like to proclaim, mes que un club: they are the most perfect expression of the region’s style and ethos. This is clearly just the way everybody in the region plays, and Barça’s just figured out the perfect harvesting system.
Women and men do not play on separate planets. Most of us actually grow up playing with boys and a lot of us continue to play with men. All of the women’s teams in the World Cup will have trained against men’s teams.
For all the talk about how the two games are different, the players themselves are characterized more by what they share than what they don’t. Look at the US: Who squeaks through qualifying matches? Who gives up a goal early and has to claw their way to a win, grabbing victory in the last seconds of the match? Who, at their best, earns respect around the world for their stamina and determination? Brazil’s women play with rhythm, a fluid give-and-go game marked by sudden bursts of speed and lots of improvisation. It makes them very hard to predict. They force teams to devote many players to the exclusive work of containing a few. They are hard to beat without engaging the dreaded Catanaccio.
Then we get one of those horrible 1-0 victories that makes you want to kill yourself and throw away the television, just as happens in the men’s game. That was the 2007 World Cup championship match between Germany and Brazil. (Sound familiar?) The women I watched in this tournament play an even more refined version of that “Latin” game. Just like their brothers. So why aren’t the women champions of everything?
How on earth is it that a country that produces intensely talented players, players who hold their own in the best leagues in the world – How is it this team has not even qualified – ever – for the two most important tournaments in the game?
There is rarely a simple answer to this kind of question. This is one of those rare cases when there is. They have had the same manager for nearly thirty years. Ignacio Quereda. This must be one of the most devastating statements regarding a national association’s indifference regarding its women’s team. After three decades, such a spectacular record of failure can’t be laid at his feet alone. This shame belongs to every person at the Real Federación Española de Fútbol. These people should be put in fútbol jail.
Not surprisingly, players have a lot to say about this situation – they must, because women players hoping for a cap almost never speak out. In a May interview with Nell Enriquez for Equalizer Soccer, the much lauded striker Laura del Rio did just that. She explained her absence from the Spain squad in very stark terms.
NE: Let’s talk a bit about the Spaniard Women’s National Team. You started in 39 caps and scored 40 goals while with them. What happened during that time?
Del Rio: Yes, that’s correct. Being part of the team was a dream come true. Unfortunately things didn’t work out with Ignacio Quereda, the manager of the team. He’s been with the team for over 28 years. We don’t see eye to eye on many things. I’m not the only one who is no longer part of the team due to this. There are many.
NE: Is there any way that you would go back?
Del Rio: Yes, for Quereda to leave the team.
I am not sure I’ve seen a more direct statement in the women’s game. And there is the answer to our question.
United Passions is fascinating. Not as a movie, of course. FIFA’s 30 million-dollar self-portrait is, instead, fascinating evidence. FIFA leaves its fingerprints on every aspect of the work’s form and content.
Structurally, the film stages a bold intervention against story-telling practice. United Passions demands that cinema catch up with the times: the dominant narrative form used by the people who govern our lives from conference rooms is that of the bullet-point presentation. This biography of a corporation thus appropriately takes the form of Powerpoint Cinema.
Blocks of information are presented in a static visual form, usually in a manner that is not entirely unlike this sentence: a passive presentation of the way things are. Randomly-generated transitions move the viewer from one information block to the next. A cause-effect relationship will be implied by the flow of one slide to the next. Sequencing is, in and of itself, all one needs in terms of structure. Information flashes across the screen; the audience is spared the burden of understanding and insight. This presentation of information is usually accompanied by an image grabbed through a google search.
One might call this a “lie-back-and-think-of England” approach to one’s audience.
This phrase, “lie-back-and-think-of England,” for the reader lucky enough to not know, refers to the advice given to women regarding the inevitability of sexual coercion in their married lives. United Passions gives us a new spin on that phrase, as several bullet points are dedicated to demonizing the men of English Football Association. The English FA’s pomposity is here developed as a background — perhaps the only available background — against which FIFA leadership might indulge the idea that they are merely humble servants to the beautiful game. FIFA/the English FA: this the film’s most compelling face-off. Or perhaps I should say, “most compelling bullet-point sequence.” The only thing that unites the passions of FIFA’s founding characters is their shared hatred of that other imperialist congress of entitled white assholes. (To be clear, true to its form, this is indicated in the film, rather than, say, written and acted.)
Passions United is admirably open about the scale of self-serving ambition that lies at the root of the organization. FIFA was founded, we are told, for the sole purpose of having total control over the game everywhere such control matters, mainly because a few European men were annoyed that a few English men were bitchy to them. Men in suits, largely indistinguishable from each other, declare that the only rules of the game that will matter are their rules, that the only associations that matter will be FIFA associations. Voilá! FIFA Article I: Football will not exist outside of FIFA. This naked desire for monopoly is presented by the film’s swelling score as a “win” for the game.
Sprinkled throughout Passions United (I can’t get enough of this title) is imaginative thinking which presents FIFA’s so-called political neutrality as a simultaneously anti-fascist and populist politics — e.g. a party sequence in which an English FA executive spews racist and sexist nonsense at a horrified woman (Rimet’s daughter, more on her below), a bizarre boardroom scene that recycles debunked myths regarding wartime matches (these stories are also so badly told that one can’t actually follow them anyway, so their veracity is perhaps less an issue than their coherence). These moments are reassuringly familiar as staple elements of FIFA’s pantry: bad faith and pure bullshit.
Of course, as a feminist football critic, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that women are not only not forgotten by United Passions, they are all over its Powerpoint script, as is, shall we say, the idea of Africa.
The film confirms something we have long suspected: women and Africa occupy similar, even perhaps the same symbolic territory for FIFA. The film wonderfully maps out FIFA’s psychopathology so that we might better understand the exact roles that women and Africa play in the organization’s self-understanding. Women and Africa appear in United Passions as spaces of conquest, ownership, and creepy intimacy.
Africa functions as a scapegoat for FIFA’s corruption. One scene (one bullet-point) identifies Africa’s increased participation in FIFA as a “pandora’s box”—Africa functions in this film at once as a territory to be rescued, the locus of all foul play, as cash cow, and as a trophy. Women operate as both an alibi guaranteeing FIFA’s good intentions and, also, as evidence demonstrating the nature of FIFA’s bad intentions.
The daughters of Jules Rimet and Sepp Blatter are given a shocking amount of screen time.
Nary a scene happens without one or the other fille: they are represented as essential conversation partners—the people with whom Rimet and Blatter talk out all of their ideas—within the script they are, really, the only people that these patriarchs can trust. This creates a little confusion. Normally, when a man talks this much at a woman in a film, it is because she is the object of his sexual interest; possession of her functions as an affirmation of his phallic power.
In short, the father-daughter partnerships of United Passions are startlingly incestuous. This is in no small part because Rimet, played by Gerard Depardieu, constantly puts his hands on his daughter (played by Jemima West), and because in at least one scene, in which the two are standing in an empty, large open public space, they stand so closely that Depardieu’s belly touches poor West. It is also because both women “characters” (that is really not quite the right word for them) function as fluffers: their sole function is to pump up Daddy’s ego. Take one of the most infamous lines of the film—as Rimet worries that playing a World Cup during the Great Depression might be wrong, his daughter says: “When have dreams ever been appropriate?” Indeed.
I appreciate the way that United Passions re-envisions Hollywood casting practices, in which women young enough to be the daughters/granddaughters of the male lead will be cast as their romantic object of interest as if such sexual relationships were fun to watch. Here, at least, that romance is called out as fundamentally incestuous—and it is presented as extremely uncomfortable viewing.
But this perhaps also reflects FIFA’s actual world, in which women can never function as equal partners, or should I say co-conspirators? The only appropriate position for a woman is as a “daughter” to FIFA’s “daddy.” Lie Back…
[I now have to wash out my eyeballs and scrub down my brain.]
Readers totally unfamiliar with the most banal conventions of the sports film might be surprised to learn that the film’s narrative superstructure is provided by a joyous pick-up game, played by children who have taken over a dusty pitch in a worn-out stadium on the edge of a city in an “emerging” nation. They are the children of the world—one of every color, and even one of the “other” gender (fair-skinned, of course). This sequence, which opens and closes the film — a “bullet point” which declares the game’s universal appeal — was filmed in Azerbaijan, whose government generously funded Passions Uniting Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations, and is therefore listed as a production partner.
This sequence, ironically depicting exactly the kind of game over which FIFA has no control whatsoever, as well as a kind of match (mixed-gender football) that FIFA explicitly prohibits, is the part of United Passions that one might equate with the google-search-produced image dropped into a Powerpoint slide. Of course, at first the lone girl resigns herself to playing goal. And she doesn’t know how to defend, apparently, because she makes barely a gesture to blocking shots—accepting humiliation and uselessness as her gendered lot—until, at the last moment and for no particular reason, she takes the ball, dribbles it up the field, shoots and scores. Her teammates are overwhelmed with joy. “Who would have believed this!” The film’s audience is asked this in a voice-over—an editorial accident superimposes the surprise that FIFA has lasted as long as it has, “accomplished” as much as it has, over an image which suggests a community’s surprise that a girl knows how to kick a ball.
Embedded below, the film’s conclusion. “Enjoy” it while you can.