The thirty-minute interval was a hive of activity and hushed, awestruck conversation. As the players gulped down water under the shade of a large acacia tree, the primary topic was, unsurprisingly, Amani Hamadi.
The non-bibs team, for whom Amani was playing, were buzzing, replaying his passes, his goal, his effortless control.
"Did you see that through ball?" one of the strikers exclaimed to a midfielder.
"I didn't even think the pass was on, and then, boom, it's at my feet!" The midfielder nodded vigorously, "And his first touch, man! It's like the ball is glued to him. At fifteen!"
On the bibs' side, the mood was more somber, a mixture of frustration and grudging admiration. Their coach was trying to rally them, to devise a strategy to contain the young CAM.
"We have to get tighter to him! Don't let him turn! Double up if you have to!" But even as he spoke, the players exchanged skeptical glances. They'd tried.
