Emptiness in a Foreign Land
The camera pans across the small streets of Nailsworth, England, showing a peacefulness that contrasts with the hustle and bustle of Indonesia. In a small shop, a man in his late forties sits wearing a thick jacket, his face worn with fatigue. His name is Arief, a soccer coach from Magelang who has just arrived in this country with high hopes.
Arief looks out the window, gazing at the green field that he doesn't know when he will touch again. His nose runs in the cold air, reminding him of the warmth of home and family in his homeland. However, his big dream of bringing change through soccer still lives in his heart.
Suddenly, he takes out his cell phone and presses the screen, remembering the last message from the company where he was going to work in Nailsworth. But his hopes are dashed. The company offered no clarity, and thus, Arief now found himself stranded without a job, without certainty.
In that silence, memories of his colorful past flashed through his mind—from coaching at an amateur club to working at a major club in Moscow. All of it now felt like a faint shadow.
He took a deep breath, promising himself that his tough experiences and determination would get him through this. His dream of seeing the team he coached achieve success remained alive, even in the darkest of times.
Arief gazed at the dark sky full of stars, whispering to himself, "Wherever I am, I will continue to fight for soccer and my dreams."
***
In the silence of the Nailsworth night, Arief sat on a slightly rickety wooden bench in a small park near the cafe where he had been sitting earlier. The night breeze blew softly, teasing his messy hair. He tried to smile, even though his face showed confusion and extreme fatigue.
"If only I could talk to the ball, maybe I'd ask, 'Bro, where are you going?'" he said with a bitter smile, then turned to the soccer ball lying on the grass. The ball seemed to respond with a funny silence—as if it knew that the conversation was just a dream.
Remembering the past, Arief smiled to himself. He used to coach an amateur club in Walthamstow, and once, during practice, a new player—who turned out to be a well-known masseur in London—said during practice: "Bro, if we lose, I'll massage your shoulders. If we win, I'll massage your heart."
Of course, all of that became a funny story among them, brightening the mood a little amidst the chaos of life. He remembers well the small experiences that sometimes brought laughter in difficult times. Even in Moscow, when he was trying to adjust to the extreme weather and learn the difficult Russian language, he once said to himself, "If I have to endure weather like this, maybe I should become a boxer, not a coach!"
But behind the laughter, a bitter feeling lingered. He knew this journey would not be easy. He had to get back up and decide what was best—return to his homeland, or stay and fight here, in a land where he knew no one.
"If this ball could talk, it would probably say, 'Bro, relax. If I could kick, I would have scored hundreds of goals, but the reality is I'm just sitting here like this.' "
A small laugh escaped Arief's lips, but his eyes held an unshakeable determination. He knew this drama was just the beginning of an epic story. Soccer might be whispering to him through the night breeze, telling him that behind defeat and uncertainty, there was hope that must continue to be fought for.
As the night grew late, Arief stood up and patted the empty soccer ball. He whispered again, "Let's go again, world. I don't know what awaits, but I will definitely surprise them... and maybe make them laugh too, because soccer is full of magic and... funny surprises."
There, under the dark English sky, a dream and a hope merged. Waiting to rise, take new steps, and write a story that will be remembered—about a man from Magelang who never gave up on the whispers of the ball and his own life.
***
The night in Nailsworth may have been quiet, but in Arief's mind, the atmosphere was very different. Images of his unique family danced around, making him smile and shake his head. He had three wives, each with stories and characters no less interesting than soccer itself.
His first wife, Natalia, is from Russia and now lives in Staten Island, United States. Natalia has given birth to two sons—the eldest is 14 years old and the youngest is only 5 years old. Arief imagines with amusement how Natalia often teases him via video calls, "Have you taught the kids how to kick a ball? Or are you just teaching them how to navigate confusion in England?"
His second wife, Sari, is from Indonesia and is like a miniature soccer family. They have six children: the eldest daughter is 20 years old, another daughter is 19 years old, then the eldest son is 17 years old and is already good at playing soccer, two younger sisters aged 11 and 4 years old who like to fight over the ball at home, and the youngest son is only 2 years old, who when he sees a ball, immediately screams and runs with joy. "He might have been born with soccer shoes on his feet," Arief joked to himself.
And his third wife, Dewi, from Bekasi, who doesn't have children yet, but has just as much energy and enthusiasm. She often sends playful text messages, "If you're confused in England, just remember, I'm ready to be the backup coach for our family! But remember, don't be like that unclear coach in Nailsworth, okay!"
Arief smiled warmly and gratefully, even though his life was full of challenges. In Islam, he knew that polygamy was permissible, as long as it was practiced with equal responsibility and love, and he was determined to keep his family harmonious despite the distance between them.
Gazing at the starry sky above Nailsworth, Arief was convinced that family ties and soccer were two things that could not be separated. They were his source of strength and the reason why he had to keep going, moving forward in the face of uncertainty with laughter, tears, and unceasing prayers.
Football is not just about the game on the field, but about how a family, across continents and cultures, can become the best team, unbeaten by time and distance.
With that, Arief stood up, holding the ball that had begun to glisten with morning dew. "It's time for us to start a new chapter…"