The same intensity is on their faces, body hunched forward in ready position, feet pumping the ground to cover the distance that separates them from the ball, swirling, kicking, marking, and passing.

They start out on a semi-circle, two teams facing each other with disdain, eager to steal from each other, intent on bringing home victory. A long and shrill whistle starts the first quarter. A tiny kick, the ball rolls from one foot to the next, and that is all it takes. The air is instantly electrified. From the sidelines, the roars and shouts rise in the air with each movement of the ball. "Cut her off, it's yours, bring it back, no ,no, not in the middle, kick it out, out ..." In the field, the players' face flushes crimson, floods with their own salty sweat. Their eyes focus on the rolling object, while their feet follow it. The players work in unison, the dribbler moves swiftly towards the opposite goal with the ball in between her feet, dodging the pursuing defenders, while her team mate escorts her at arm length, ready to take over. Together, the team labors to score. "Now, shoot!" Shouts the coach to his offense lead. "Oh!" The crowd laments as the ball misses the goal by a hair. At the most crucial point, when the penalty goal kick is being arranged, the whistle blows sharply, signaling the end of the first quarter. The whole world calls it a football game, but here, we are simply playing soccer.