Football is life

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This article was published 27/11/2022 (1096 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

It’s the first Sunday morning of the 2022 FIFA World Cup and Cecilia Castro pauses in mid-sentence, saying, “Sorry, but I need to watch this,” as she nods toward a big-screen television mounted on the wall to her right.

Apparently, someone has just registered the first goal of the tournament in a game pitting Ecuador against host nation Qatar. Satisfied it was Ecuadoran captain Emmer Valencia who nailed the penalty, Castro returns to her conversation, explaining it’s important she knows who comes out on top, so she’ll be fully prepared when that country’s fans show up in a celebratory mood post-match, looking for a jersey or flag.

Castro, you see, is the owner of La Liga Soccer, a retail operation at 871 Waverley St. wholly devoted to the beautiful game. Moments later, after the South American nation seemingly seals the victory with a second tally at the 30-minute mark, the mother of three grown children laughs, saying she never needs a guide to know when an important soccer match is on TV. That’s because if it’s an elimination game between, say, France and England, or a Serie A showdown between Inter Milan and Juventus, it’s highly likely she won’t greet a single customer for two hours or so, what with everybody glued to the action.

“That’s OK, though,” she says, adjusting a display of red-and-white Canada jerseys, which she anticipates selling out of in the days ahead, especially if Les Rouges have a strong showing in Qatar. “I want to watch, too, so it’s better if things aren’t too busy.”

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That’s a long, long story, Castro offers, when asked what brought her to Winnipeg from her native Chile, 42 years ago.

The eldest of five siblings, she grew up in Talca, a city of 230,000 situated midway between the Pacific Ocean and the Andes Mountains. Her father, Germán Castro Rojas, was a high-ranking politician, and when the September 1973 coup d’etat that deposed president Salvador Allende occurred, he was one of thousands of people targeted by a military junta led by general Augusto Pinochet.

Her father was tortured for two weeks, then executed, she states, her voice lowering a bit. Furthermore, she, her mother and her siblings were completely cut off from the rest of their family in the ensuing years, as anybody who dared associate with them would have been putting their own life in danger.

“My parents’ bank accounts were garnished, our home was destroyed… the reason I don’t have any pictures from my childhood is because the army took everything,” she says. “They literally dug a hole in our backyard, filled it with all our possessions, and lit it on fire. I was only 10 years old when I lost my father, and I grew up with a lot of anger.”

One of her dad’s political secretaries managed to escape Chile shortly after the coup. In 1980, Castro’s mother was able to reach him in Toronto, where he had been living for several years. During their back-and-forth he spoke to her about a “quiet place” in the middle of Canada, a city where she and her kids could live peacefully. She agreed it sounded idyllic, so, working hand-in-hand with the Canadian government, he procured expedited visas for her and her five children. Two weeks after they reconnected, the Castros were on a flight north, to Winnipeg.

Following a six-month, crash course in English at Red River College, Castro, who was 17 when she moved here, enrolled at the University of Manitoba to study economics. She gave birth to her first child, Marcus, while she was still in school, and welcomed a second boy, Josh, three years after graduating. By the time her youngest son, Jesse, came along in 1993, she was juggling a product development job in the women’s garment industry with being both a mom and a soccer mom.

“I played soccer as a kid, and joined a women’s team after coming to Canada, so I naturally wanted to coach my boys, when they were growing up,” she says. “On top of that, I was a league convenor for six years, in River Heights and Crescentwood. And because I became a single parent at a certain point, I look back now and wonder how I managed to do it all.”

Castro’s mother returned to Chile to live in 1992, after a 1988 plebiscite removed Pinochet from power. During a trip to see her in the early 2000s, Castro, in a bit of a rut at work, considered what she wanted to do going forward. Soccer was always top of mind whenever she got together with family and friends, so she started thinking how cool it would be to operate a store of her own, one that catered to fútbol fans.

There were a couple of places in Winnipeg where one could go for equipment and such, she says, but her vision was “more boutique-like.” What she was picturing in her head was “a candy store for soccer players,” a spot that didn’t only stock jerseys, balls and practise nets, but accessories such, as officially licensed scarves, T-shirts and bobbleheads, to boot.

La Liga — short for Campeonato Nacional de Liga de Primera División, Spain’s premier men’s league (she is Spanish, after all, she chuckles) — officially opened for business in September 2005. It wasn’t long before she became convinced she’d chosen the perfect location, in a strip mall situated almost directly opposite the Ralph Cantafio Soccer Complex.

One afternoon she was sorting through a fresh shipment when a fellow came racing through the door, barefoot. His team was playing across the street, he told her, and one of his cleats had suddenly fallen apart.

“He grabbed the first pair he saw, slapped his money down, and was gone like a shot, back to the pitch,” she says, shaking her head.

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Having the World Cup kick off in November, which is traditionally a slower month for sales at La Liga, has definitely been a boon for business, Castro says. There was a catch, though; because she has to place orders with manufacturers such as Adidas, Hummel and Nike at least 12 months in advance, it can be a bit of a gamble, deciding which country’s kits to bring in, and whose to cross off the list. (When one of her suppliers asked her last fall if she really wanted to order “that many” Canadian jerseys, she told him yes, she was supremely confident the team was going to end a 36-year, World Cup drought.)

What can also be troublesome is precisely what occurred last week, when megastar Cristiano Ronaldo announced he was leaving Manchester United F.C., midway through his second season with the Premier League club. “That sort of thing should be illegal,” she says jokingly (we think), noting she still has posters of Ronaldo from his days with Real Madrid she’s seemingly stuck with.

By the way, if you pop into La Liga with little intention of digging into your wallet, that’s fine, too. There is a group of soccer-crazed 9-year-olds who head there on a regular basis and plop themselves on the floor in front of the TV, to cheer on their heroes. They usually visit a nearby A&W first, she says, except by now they know the drill: leave their bikes on the sidewalk outside, and ensure their fingers aren’t greasy, from the fries they pounded.

“There can be as many as 10. They call me ‘soccer lady’ and I call them my future customers,” she says, mentioning she couldn’t help laughing last week when one of them bowed his head in front of a pair of lime green-and-black cleats priced at $320, vowing to own those very kicks, one day.

Admittedly, it’s been a long journey, she says, and while COVID-19 certainly didn’t do her any favours, what with various soccer leagues being shut down for extended periods, she continues to get joy from seeing a young boy or girl’s face light up, the first time they slip on a jersey or pair of shinpads.

“Practically every day I get new people coming in who say they’re a soccer family, and are surprised they’d never heard of us before,” says the grandmother of one. “I’m guessing I’ll be hearing those same comments five, 10… 15 years from now, because even though my boys keep telling me it’s time to put my feet up and relax, I have zero plans to retire. As long as I am physically able to, I’ll be here, I tell them.”

— David Sanderson writes about Winnipeg restaurants and businesses david.sanderson@freepress.mb.ca