Thankfully, one of those bars was Honduras Bar, right here in Durham, North Carolina.  I ventured out there with 2 fellow Duke students – I in my New England Revolution jersey, Mike in his DC United jersey, and Chris more subtly dressed in a simple red polo – and we joined the ranks of approximately a dozen USMNT supporters in oversized Uncle Sam hats and American flag kerchiefs.  The 200 or so Honduran fans were not threatening, but were certainly overwhelming.  But as an American soccer fan, you come to expect to be outnumbered by opposing fans.

The following is a column I wrote about the experience for yesterday’s Duke Chronicle, our campus newspaper (permalink to the article here).  I did not have space in my 700 words to discuss the political situation of Honduras and it’s implication on the match (or vice versa), nor could I delve deeply into the upswell in emotion we experienced as we watched Conor Casey head home the first goal – silence sweeping the bar, and the cheers of us USA fans crescendoing as we slowly realized that no foul had been committed.  The column serves primarily to underscore that Durham, although it is a small city, has a number of unexpected resources – who knew that a place such as Honduras Bar would be here?  I encourage you all to scour your cities for opportunities like this one to share a game with the kind of mixed crowd that makes being an American soccer fan fun.

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Two weeks ago, my friends and I found ourselves in the parking lot of Honduras bar on University Drive. We had been heading back towards campus on Business 15-501, missed the turn for 751 and wound up in completely unfamiliar territory. We were still only a few miles from campus, and yet we had no idea where we were.

Saturday night, we were back at Honduras bar, but not on accident. Honduras bar was one of about 200 bars and restaurants in the United States showing the USA-Honduras soccer game. Team USA won a thrilling 3-2 match and secured a place in the World Cup next summer.

Honduras Bar was filled beyond capacity, and its energy was unbelievable. We congregated in the back of the bar with the dozen or so other American fans—a handful of Durham locals who have traveled the country following the U.S. team. We were certainly the minority, outnumbered at least 10-to-one, but that didn’t mean we were quiet. Our cheers during the American goals filled the silences left by the disappointed Honduran fans, keeping the place loud during every second of the match.

But when the game wasn’t tense, fans of both sides conversed, fighting the language barrier to discuss what an exciting game we were watching. One guy made me admit to the beauty of the first Honduran goal, but that was the most aggressive comment made to me the entire night.

I’m not trying to be another Chronicle columnist lamenting how much Duke students underutilize and under-appreciate the city in which we live. I’m just a senior coming to grips with the fact that I don’t know where I’ll be in 12 months, and that this may be my last year in Durham.

I’ve been compiling and completing my North Carolina to-do list (I refuse to call it a “bucket list” because I’m not dying). I’ve tried Biscuitville, Bojangles and Bullocks. Next week is the beginning of the North Carolina State Fair, which I have missed every year thus far. And I certainly don’t plan on leaving this state without attending a NASCAR race.

Honduras Bar was never part of that list. If it weren’t for the USA-Honduras soccer game (and Mexican-owned Circuito Cerrado TV for buying the rights to the game and keeping it off American cable), Honduras bar would have been just another address punched into the GPS and eventually forgotten. I never would have met the people inside: a vibrant cross-section of Durham’s soccer fans, both the rare diehard fans of our own national team and the Honduran community that was so passionate and yet so welcoming. At the end of the day, it was the perfect place to watch the game, with an atmosphere that made everything infinitely more exciting.

With the constant messages we receive from e-mail blasts about avoiding crime in Durham, we often lose sight of the positive aspects of the Durham community. But I think that ambivalence, more than fear, is the biggest factor keeping Duke students in our Duke bubble.

There’s always a speech, party or other event on campus, well-advertised and within walking distance. These events are also unbelievable resources worth taking advantage of, but sometimes the on-campus offerings can be so all-inclusive that they become insular. We can find almost anything on or near campus, so we fall into a rut and we never venture outside the bubble. Or we may just hole up in the library and miss out on all of the above.

But midterm season is winding down, the days are getting shorter and your time on campus is starting to tick away, whether you’ve noticed it or not.

Need a famous quotation to convince you? I’ll give you three. Twain once said, “Never let your schooling interfere with your education.” Horace once said, “Carpe diem.” Bueller once said, “Life moves pretty fast—if you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” You get the idea.

Break out of your comfort zone and vary the routine. Discover all that this school, this city and this state have to offer. I’m not going to tell you what to do—the idea is that you find what interests you. Honduras bar is not for everyone, but there is something out there for you. Make the most of your time here. Durham may not be your hometown, but for a few years, it can be your home.

The big story was that of Gael Kakuta who, at age 16, was under contract with the French club Lens but left the club to sign with Chelsea. The punishments doled out are staggering: Chelsea must pay Lens 130,000 euros compensation; Kakuta is suspended for 4 months and must pay Lens 780,000 euros for breach of contract; and most noteworthy of all, Chelsea was issued an unprecedented 16-month transfer ban. For the next two transfer windows, Chelsea is forbidden from registering any new players.

The second is more recent and of a smaller scale, but in one sense a little closer to home: Leeds United, the English League One side for whom Duke University’s own Mike Grella now plays (he has one goal on the year so far), has just had one of their developing 16-year-old players scooped up by Everton. While a tribunal has awarded Leeds 600,000 GBP (could rise to 1.5 mil if the kid plays well), Leeds chairman Ken Bates is saying that money is an insufficient deterrent to “predator clubs” and adding that league points should be deducted, forcing teams that make these types of moves to pay the price in the standings.

(The irony, of course, is that Leeds United would’ve been mentioned in the mix with those very “predator clubs” had their mangled finances not led to the downfall of the club about 6 or 7 years ago. Improper financial practices actually led Leeds to receive a devastating 15-point deduction in 2007-08, so when Bates mentions point deductions he knows of what he speaks.)

The first thing that jumps out at me is that, in both of these instances, the story is always framed around the club: whether its reparations to Leeds or the punishment for Chelsea or Everton, what happens to the player is always a side note (perhaps because the issue deals with players who are so young that they haven’t established themselves on the field yet and aren’t yet of public interest).

How does the issue of exploitation of youth change when the element of the “one-way ticket out of Africa” is removed from the equation? Regardless of background, are these kids really old enough to make contract decisions (and are their parents/guardians pushing them for the right reasons)? Also, does Chelsea’s punishment fit the crime or is it extreme? Is Ken Bates right to call for penalties in the standings as well? (As a Leeds United fan, I personally would say that the times that Bates is right are few and far between, but this could be one of the few.)

I’d love to hear other opinions on either of these stories or the broader “football slave trade”.

– Brad Colbert