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FLORIDA: A piece of paper in the backpack of Bob Marley's grandson.
You see, that's how it all started. One afternoon in 2014, Cedella Marley, Bob's eldest daughter with his wife Rita, received a pamphlet from her son, Skip, after returning from school. The flyer was from Skip's football coach, and he was asking parents to consider giving money to resurrect the Jamaica women's football team.
Cedella was surprised. She lives outside of Miami but is still a royalty in Jamaica, at the head of Tuff Gong, the record label her father created, as well as the foundation that bears her name. She made calls. In the end, the women's football team had not existed for almost four years, as the country's football federation had reduced funding.
While there were still girls' teams, no senior national team could try to represent the country at the Olympics or at the Women's World Cup.
Cedella bristles. Was it a football affair? she asked. Nope. The men's team, known as Reggae Boyz, had its funding fully intact.
"People were saying no to [the women]Cedella now says, "The more I involved, the more angry I was."
Cedella thinks about it. And still makes phone calls about it. And then decided to fix the problem, pushing a few dozen determined players into an adventure that involved raking in hundreds of thousands of dollars, defying stifling genre norms, surviving tense and persistent elimination games despite the feeling obsessing that their dreams could die anyway.
"They are now pioneers," said Dalton Wint, secretary general of the Jamaican Football Federation, about the women's team. He shrugs. "And they will suffer."
During a conversation, Cedella, now 51, laughs easily, wandering in the backyard of her South Florida mansion with an iPad full of notes and notes. sound notes that she never consults. Instead, she mixes with travel, food, and music as we sit under her gazebo.
When asked if she was really surprised to hear about the decision to get rid of the women's team, Cedella sniffles. "Coming from Jamaica, not really." She laughs. "I think they'd like to see girls in swimsuits and tennis skirts compared to cleats and football clothes."
She does not exaggerate. Sashana Campbell, a 28-year-old midfielder with Reggae Girlz for five years, said she grew up playing with boys because there were no organized high-level opportunities for girls. She was afraid of becoming too good "because you think that at some point, they just will not allow you to play."
Cedella explains that this reality explains why the revival of Reggae Girlz took place in several stages. In the spring of 2014, while qualifying for the 2015 Women's World Cup in Canada was underway, the original goal was simply to exist. At the time, the Jamaican team was not even part of the FIFA rankings as it had not played a real match for years. Cedella gave a lot of her own money, but also tried to create a buzz around the team, mainly by publishing a song, "Strike Hard," featuring her and her brothers, Stephen and Damian. An Indie-gogo accompanying campaign gave the Reggae Girlz just enough money to replenish itself, though it would be nice to consider it a full-fledged operation.
The players did their own laundry. They were riding in rickety vans. They practiced for a day or two on weekends, then stopped for a few days to allow many players to work before regrouping the following weekend. Even the common practice of swapping jerseys after international matches had to be abandoned.
"People would say," Can I get a jersey? "and I would say, 'I do not even have one for me!'" says Campbell. "We had to give everything to the federation: training equipment, jerseys, everything."
Nevertheless, the team played pretty well this summer. The Reggae Girlz dominated the small Martinique 6-0 before losing the tight match against Costa Rica. They even led Mexico in the final phase of the qualifying tournament group stage before being eliminated in a 3-1 defeat. The following summer, in 2015, the team tried unsuccessfully to qualify for the 2016 Olympic Games in Rio.
It did not matter; After all, Reggae Girlz had never competed in the World Cup or the Olympic Games in their history. They were just happy to be competing. It's as if something has changed, Cedella thought. It was like a progress.
That was not it. In 2016, the Jamaican federation again disbanded the team.
Khadija Shaw grew up praying for rain. She acknowledges that it was a strange wish, especially for a child from the community of St. Bay & s Road, in Spanish Bay. But the rain meant that the football match that his brothers and other kids from the neighborhood were playing every day would not take place on the ground – too sloppy – and would take place in the street.
Since Khadija's mother had told her that she was not allowed to play herself, Khadija had prayed for rain so she could watch the sport she adored with her foot instead of having to stare, while the boys took their ball and went to the field.
"Is it crazy?" she says to Kingston someday this spring. "Maybe, but that's how I wanted to be close to the game."
Finally, she convinced one of her brothers, Kentardo, to teach him how to juggle a football. Once in primary school, she started playing football with the boys and dominating, telling her mother that her clothes were so dirty because she had fallen into the mud on her way home. One day, a neighbor of a few streets stopped her with a specific question when she got home from school: "This guy," she said, rolling her eyes, "it was like:" Do you know that football is for men? ""
She was unfazed. The only thing that Khadija loved as much as football was the carrots, which, combined with a formidable front teeth, earned him the nickname Bunny. As she reached the imposing 5-foot-11-inch stage, it became clear that she had an innate talent for scoring. She scored 128 goals in four years of high school and, at the age of 14 in 2011, played for women's teams under 15, under 17 and under 20. years of Jamaica.
Like other talented Jamaican women of her generation, Bunny did not dream of this senior team at that time, but she still believed that football could be her life. Recruited by American universities, she played for two years at a junior university before joining the University of Tennessee in 2017. While she flourished in the SEC, her family was devastated at her home. .
During his absence, three of his seven brothers were killed by gang-related armed violence; another brother died in a car accident. One of his nephews was shot dead and another died after being electrocuted when he chased a football in the bushes and came across an exposed wire. "He was barefoot because that's how we play in Jamaica," Bunny said.
It was as if every time she spoke to her family, there was another tragedy, another grief endured without her. "What am I doing here?" she wondered as she planned to pack up and return to Kingston.
Her father wanted her to stay. His mom too. And the more she thought about everything that had happened, the more she kept telling herself the only thing that would comfort her: would it help me if I were sad? Would it be useful if I did not play football? it helps me if i do not do the thing i like? "
His life was complicated, but the answer was not. In 2018, during her senior season in Tennessee, she scored 13 goals in 15 games and was named Offensive Player of the Year SEC. This year coincided with a rebirth of Reggae Girlz, who identified Bunny as a star they could count on. She began to think of the possibility of a return home on her own terms.
When the federation made a new funding for the team a second time in 2016, Cedella – unbeaten – has simply redoubled its efforts to promote a complete culture shift within Jamaican women's football. First, she persuaded Alessandra Lo Savio, co-founder of the Alacran Foundation, which works in the field of arts philanthropy in Jamaica and elsewhere, to become a major contributor. She then identified Hue Menzies, who gave up her career in corporate finance to become a full-time football coach, to lead the team back up.
Of course, the budget of the Jamaican football federation did not provide anything for a head coach of the women's team. This meant that Menzies – who runs a very successful youth soccer club near Orlando – should be volunteering. He did not hesitate
"The Marley, when they choose something, it's supposed to work," says Menzies. During lunch, he does his best to explain why he would accept a job that does not bring in money to train a team that does not have one. With a syrupy speech pattern and a dragging walk, Menzies seems perpetually indifferent. "It's only our culture," he says finally. "If the Marley do something, it's real."
With Menzies on board, Cedella wanted to draw attention to players like Bunny and Campbell and Konya Plummer and a young star of the game in the making, Jody Brown, who was barely old enough to drive but scored goals at the baguette. Unlike the 2014 restart, when she attended most of the team games and thought it was important to be visible, Cedella was withdrawn.
The players understood Cedella's retirement – she wanted to show that the Reggae Girlz could stand without the proximity of the name Marley, that the team could be an autonomous program, not a charity case – but a tradition was born: After Every game, the FaceTimed team of the cloakroom's patron tells him what happened.
There was a lot to say. In their first qualifying rounds last spring in Haiti and against teams from the Caribbean, Reggae Girlz had a distinct talent advantage, but were (literally) weakened by a lack of food. The spreads provided to the hotel team were sparse and largely inedible. Several players had symptoms of food poisoning almost immediately. The players and staff complained by asking for different food, but were told that it was all that was available. They were not so sure.
"They continued to give us something like rice with a sort of layer of cheese that we could not see what was underneath," recalls Dominique Bond-Flasza, a Jamaican defender. "I had the impression of doing it on purpose.We would ask something else, but there was nothing.We even stopped drinking the water that they gave us. . "
Campbell shivers in memory. "It was horrible."
"I think I ate bread," says Bunny. "May be."
Hungry and under-hydrated, Bunny still scored eight goals in three games to push Jamaica to the next round and add eight more in all four matches in the second round to send Jamaica to the CONCACAF Women's Championship.
These games were held in Texas against top teams including the United States, Canada and Costa Rica. While Bunny still had her usual clip and an outstanding performance from Brown (who scored four goals herself), Jamaica beat Costa Rica and Cuba before losing to the United States. It resulted in a winning match against Panama. Victory meant qualifying for this summer's World Cup in France. The match was held just north of Dallas on a cool night last October. Cedella resisted the urge to go to Texas for the match and ended up not looking at most of the time, instead choosing to calm her nerves by doing yoga and meditation in the garage.
The contest was heartbreaking. Jamaica dominated in regulation – Bunny scored, of course – only to give up a late goal that put the match longer. The Reggae Girlz scored again, but Panama created the tie 2 minutes before the final whistle. There would be a shooting.
It's at this moment that Cedella has arrived from her garage. She observed that substitute goaltender Nicole McClure made two decisive saves to allow Bond-Flasza to take the advantage. When the ball wrinkled the net, Cedella, in his own words, "hit the ground". On the field, Bunny took the time to look around to see what an unbridled joy looked like, before jumping into the pile of dogs.
To celebrate, the Reggae Girlz enjoyed cookies at the hotel that night – "They were huge," says Bond-Flasza – while in Florida, Cedella's phone does not go anywhere. did not stop ringing.
Cedella said: "It was like an out-of-body experience. "
It's a hot February morning in Kingston, and Dalton Wint, uncomfortable behind his desk, is starring. "I may not be very popular right now," said the second leader of the federation. "But remember, after that euphoria fades, the real deal goes on."
Ask everyone connected to Reggae Girlz what they want and the answer is always the same: sustainability. "We want to know that this can happen again," Cedella said. And she really fears that this is not the case.
This spring, at the Reggae Girlz training camp, the first women's team from Jamaica and the Caribbean to qualify for the World Cup is exalted by a bit of mistrust, especially with regard to the federation.
Bunny shakes her head when she talks about the JFF: "All they do, is make a bunch of promises that will never be kept."
The feeling is understandable. The JFF – which is apparently in place to support Reggae Girlz – has disbanded the team twice. And even with the boost that comes with reaching the biggest stage of the sport, the federation has given no guarantee as to the viability of the program in the future. "That's what we want," says Wint. "But it's the money that makes the mare lift."
Wint then listed some of the expenses related to managing the team: $ 200,000 to organize a single training camp including an exhibition match, $ 60,000 for a flight to a road match. "It's crazy money," he says.
Nobody disputes it. International football is expensive. The problem is that the Reggae Girlz do not understand why their program, which has just qualified for a World Cup, is in danger while the Reggae Boyz – who have qualified for only one World Cup in 1998 – immune.
"Tradition," explains Wint, explaining why Reggae Boyz have exactly the guarantee that women are looking for. "We are used to men, and this type of support has been a little easier and future."
He continues: "The truth is that I blame some of the women [in Jamaica] because they do not come to games, they do not support what they should do. "He believes that a" social problem "remains in Jamaica in women's football because" some people do not even agree that women play football. "
He says that what Reggae Girlz have done will "change many perspectives" but that society needs time to catch up.
For the moment, he says, Reggae Boyz are generating revenue – the men's team could receive an appearance fee of more than $ 100,000 to play a match in another country, for example – that women can not match . The men's team also attracts larger crowds because the players are professionals enjoying greater fame.
For Reggae Girlz, it looks like moving goals. In the beginning, their survival depended largely on the results – why pay for a senior female team that is not competitive? Now the team is clearly competitive, but that does not translate to more security.
Bunny sadly explains that the JFF organized training camps for Reggae Boyz last year in the run-up to the World Cup in Russia, even though the men failed to qualify for the tournament . "The boys were in camp and not us," she says. "We are trying to qualify for the [Women’s] World Cup, no? And the boys have missed it. "She waves her hand." Things like that make us angry. "
There is always – always, always, always, say the players – a persistent doubt. What happens if they fail to break out of the group stage in France? And if they do not win a match? "Knowing the JFF," says Campbell, "I just hope they will not turn their backs."
That's why, with their persistent discomfort, players continue to turn to Cedella. It is also for this reason that Cedella, despite all the satisfaction she will feel this summer in France, knows the reality: even after the happy ending for Panama, the work is not over yet.
"It's a choice that girls have made to play," said Cedella, "and we should give them equal ground to go out and hit the ball."
She smiles. "Football is freedom, it's a quote from Bob Marley."
This article was first published on ESPN.com.
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