Bola, bola, bola

On Sunday we wandered up to town to see if my football game was being shown anywhere. Watching sport in Ubud is a hit-and-miss affair, as it seems to depend on whatever the Australia Network chooses to screen. Sometimes I get to see my team, mostly not. I love my footy but follow a team that until recently warranted a mumbled name and a sideways glance of almost-apology. But we are doing pretty well this season and it's good to watch them play. The stigma lingers though. Recently we were talking footy with a guest here and when I disclosed my affiliation, she actually snorted! It was all I could do to refrain from asking if she had seen the ladder lately, where her (not greatly loved by anybody except their supporters) team is several places lower than us.

 If we really need to see a game on television we head to the coast where there is a greater variety of services. Sanur has several multi-screen sports bars and we usually go to Jimmy's which is comfortable with good prices. This is where we will go on Wednesday night so that Eddie can watch the second State of Origin game. But last Sunday there was nothing of interest on the screens of Ubud.

We wandered down Monkey Forest Road to Alison's other cafe, Maha. We didn't expect her to be in, but she was and kept me updated of the score via her laptop as we enjoyed a cool drink. Another win, putting us third on the ladder. Good result.

The football field in Ubud is a landmark; a prime piece of real estate that must remain immune from the development frenzy as its community worth is beyond rupiah. It is bordered by Monkey Forest Road and Jl Dewi Sita on the west and north sides, and a strip of cafes, community groups and the banjar on the east and south. It's rarely out of use, whether there are primary-aged boys training, informal activities or, as on Sunday, a major game.

The pitch is pretty rugged and often underwater, but when it is dry it is grassed, but stony and uneven. Players certainly put their skin on the line when playing there. As we walked back up from Maya we could hear loud music and saw that the street had been cordoned off with flimsy lengths of cord tied to the legs of desks spaced a fair way apart. Parking here is a bit like Paris - anywhere goes - but the temporary barriers had been respected. The entire field was surrounded with spectators, all having a great time. The loudspeakers were blaring catchy Indonesian tunes, including a soccer anthem that seemed to have the words 'bola, bola, bola. In.Do.Nes.I.A'. as the chorus.

It seems that we had hit half-time as both teams were in an informal huddle and the food vendors were doing a brisk trade. This was obviously quite a big deal.We were going to get a football game on Sunday, even if it was not the code we came for. With a great vantage point at Deli Cat cafe, some snacks and a bottle of bir Bintang, our afternoon turned out to be very entertaining.

We have no idea who the teams were, but tuned our ear into the loudspeaker to identify which numbered players were being substituted, and at the end we heard the score was kosong-tiga, so the home team did not score at all and the other team's goals were in the first half that we had missed. Was red or green the winner? Maybe next time we will know who to support. All very good natured, skilful and enjoyable. At the end the pitch was taken over by youngsters with remarkably good skills.

You can see why it is the world game, and I don't think that there will be any shortage of screens in Ubud showing the World Cup when it happens next year. Down the road from us there is a small futsal area with regular indoor games and we would really love to find a game of sepak takraw to watch one day. Amazing.

 Sport, like music, is a universal language.

 Bola. Bola. Bola. Indonesia.