“Ech sinn Amerikaner!” Helping Luxembourgers with their American football

By Mike McQuaide

On a sunny afternoon a few weeks ago, I passed some time watching flocks of high schoolers hanging out at Kinnekswiss, the grassy-lawned park near Glacis. My eye was particularly drawn to three young men whom I’d noticed struggling to play with an American football--they had no idea what they were supposed to do with it!

They tried running side-by-side and tossing the ball underhand to each other the way rugby players do. But American football isn’t rugby so they quickly gave up on that. Then they tried kicking the football to each other, but since they were barefoot, they mostly just cried out in pain after each kick and hopped about on one foot: “Ow, ow, ow!” Along with being not quite as ‘chunky’ as a rugby ball, and more ‘pointed’ at either end, an American football is also harder.

The few times these guys tried throwing--that is, passing--the football to one another, it was an unmitigated disaster. Upon leaving the thrower’s hand, the ball weaved and wobbled through the air, like a drunken duck attempting to fly with a broken wing, and the ball inevitably fell short of the thrower’s target. This American football experience was turning out to be a truly unsatisfactory experience. At least that’s how I chose to interpret it.

Screwing up my courage, I headed toward the incompetent pigskin passers and called out: “Ech sinn Amerikaner!” (That’s Lëtzebuergesch code for: “I know what to do with an American football.”)

I held my hands up in the universal throw-me-the-ball gesture and thankfully, the kid holding the ball did. My God, but that football felt amazing in my hands--the pebbled leather, the laces, its sleek rounded mass fairly crying out to be heaved through the air as far as one can heave it. I’ve tossed around a football far too little in recent years and not at all since I’ve lived in Europe.

I motioned for one of the kids to run so I could pass the ball to a moving target. I was feeling young and strong so I waved for him to go long, but he didn’t understand me. He just stood there and waved back at me.

“Courir! … uh, … Lafen!” I said, and made a running motion. All three kids started running, which wasn’t what I meant, but OK. I picked one, waited until he was some distance away and threw that ball as far as I could. It was a nice tight spiral and the ball went pretty far, and though my receiver didn’t catch it, I was able to demonstrate what I meant when I said “Ech sinn Amerikaner.”Plus, OMG--it felt so damn good to throw something!

After eagerly chasing down the ball, he threw it back to me and all three started running again, but this time in different directions. Again, I picked one, let the ball fly and after he caught it (Yay!), I gathered the kids together to instill some sense into how we could play.

Using a mix of EngLëtzFrancoBuergesch, I explained that one kid would be the receiver--the guy I would throw to--and the other two kids the defenders; they would try to keep the receiver from catching the ball. My receiver and I huddled up and on my palm, I traced out a route I wanted him to run. First though, I had to explain to the defenders that they couldn’t be our huddle.

“Nee, nee, nee—du gëss là-bas,” I said.

And on we went, for about the next 20 minutes. Throwing, catching, running and having a helluva time. Four folks who grew up thousands of miles apart, now sharing bits and pieces of common languages--teaching, laughing and learning with each other.

Pretty much typical Luxembourg.

Do not miss the news - sign up to receive the wort.lu newsletter in English delivered to your inbox six days a week.