Mennonite Weekly Review, Athletics: More Than A Game
NOTE: This feature article was written for the Mennonite Weekly Review and was published in its April 19, 2010 College Issue, Athletics: More Than A Game.
GOSHEN, Ind. – “Take care of my soccer ball,” a 13-year old Thavisak ‘Tavi’ Mounsithiraj told his neighborhood friends on a typical Sunday. “I will pick it up later.”
Little did he know that just hours later, his entire family of eight would crowd into a dugout canoe to cross the Mekong River and escape from Communist rule in his native country of Laos. Over the next few years, the Mounsithiraj’s lives would change dramatically, but one constant would remain: a soccer ball.
The sons of a Laotian governmental official, Tavi – the head men’s soccer coach at Goshen College – and Thavisith ‘T’ – the Maple Leafs head women’s coach – grew up in an affluent home in the Southeast Asian country. Afforded many luxuries that few in third world countries have, the Mounsithiraj’s went to private schools by way of chauffeurs, had maids, and were generally protected from much of the poverty in the region.
Tavi Mounsithiraj with senior Luke Woodworth
“Because of our father’s position, we had a higher status and were sheltered in many ways from common hardships,” said Tavi, the oldest of the six children. “I wanted to be accepted by the kids on the street, so I would play soccer with them and run and jump over fences to get home and cleaned up before my dad would get home and find out.”
Their lives changed quickly beginning in 1975 when Communist based Pathet Lao Forces took control of the country following the Vietnam War. A young Tavi and T recall their father, who owned three cars, start riding a bicycle to work all in he name of “blending in”. Many of their possessions/luxuries were either gone or hidden.
The new Communist government was willing to use old government officials like Tavi and T’s father as long as he participated in re-education camps. He worked hard to work with and develop trust with the new leadership, but knew that it was only a matter of time before his name would be called.
“One of the major things that was happening, economically, educationally and socially, everything started to deteriorate,” T remembers. “ All of the sudden people were just trying to escape, as political refugees at first, but then economic reasons created mass exits out of Laos”
With little warning the Mounsithiraj family would become a few of the nearly 250,000 to flee Laos. Still unknowing of their destination, all eight members of the family piled into a small sedan. As evening fell, the family pulled into the house of a tobacco farmer near the river and were told for the first time of their parents’ plan to smuggle them out of the country. The children wept at the news of leaving their lives behind.
Thavisith Mounsithiraj
A secretive process began to unfold as one guide after another led them along the river ultimately pulling a single canoe out from behind a bush. Risking the dangers of drowning or being caught by patrols, the family of eight began their journey across one of the world’s largest rivers, the Mekong. By nightfall, they had reached a large sand dune exposed by the dry season and were officially on free soil. Two more canoes greeted them as they continued across the river to Thailand, one of the few free countries in the region.
They were guided through the darkness of night by lanterns before eventually finding rest at another friendly home, one of many of their father’s acquaintances they would meet along the way. The next day he road them into Nong Khai to the refugee camp they would spend the next 13 months calling home. Across the river where they had made their daring escape, they could see Laos off in the distance.
“To put it in context, we left everything – our life, our family, our home – we were never going back,” explained T. “As a dad now, I look back at the decisions that my dad had to make, what took him to that point that he gave up everything and am amazed.”
The smell of dust, sweat and open sewage characterized the harsh living conditions of refugee camp life. Thousands of people shared “chicken house” structures that were sectioned off as family huts. Despite the surroundings, the boys often found solace in soccer. Their father, a well-respected coach back in Laos, organized a team of former players from the camp and took them to play local semi-pro teams, trips T and Tavi found a way to be a part of.
“As a kid it all seemed kind of cool,” said Tavi, who admits his parents probably thought otherwise. “Dad would just hand us a soccer ball and everything was alright. At the end of the day, it was meant to be that way and we are thankful for that experience.”
In the refugee camp, families were given numbers and a central board posted the those chosen to be sponsored to a new life. After 13 months, the Mounsithiraj’s number finally was posted and they were headed to America.
After a 24-hour bus ride to Bangkok and a flight to Hong Kong, the family boarded the “Flying Tiger” – a cargo plane with seats stapled together – headed for Alaska. Eventually they met up with their sponsors – elders from a Mennonite church – at the airport in Kalamazoo and headed for their new home in the farmland of Centreville, Mich.
“It was so scary,” Tavi recalls. “We grew up pretty Western and we assumed that America was all these tall buildings like in the movies. When we were driving it was dark and we went the longest time without seeing a light. I remember thinking, ‘What is going on?’”
Showing their father’s dedication to education, the next day Tavi, T, and each of their siblings were in school. With very little English vocabulary, the boys turned to pop culture and sports to learn their new culture. It was spring and “Fernando Mania” swept the nation as Los Angeles Dodgers pitcher Fernando Valenzuela became a quick favorite as Tavi and T played baseball for the first time.
They immediately latched onto American football as well as the community also become attached to them, nicknaming the boys the Laotian Express. Several school records fell at the hands and feet of the Mounsithiraj boys, but more importantly they learn to accept each other for their similarities rather than dwell on differences.
“You talk about diversity with us,” Tavi said. “We did not speak English right away, but sports was the common bond, the common language that we spoke with one another.”
Both Tavi and T went on to play soccer and graduate from Goshen College, but neither expected nor planned on taking it into a career as a coach. Married with four children of his own, T is also a high school guidance counselor and the progression to coach just came as a natural fit, first at the high school and then back to his alma mater. In his nine-year tenure as the women’s coach at Goshen, the program has boasted 21 All American Scholar-Athletes and eight straight Team Academic Awards.
Tavi, also married with one child, could never stay away from the game and coached camps, clinics, and was an assistant at Goshen before taking over the head job 10 years ago. He has led the Maple Leafs to a 93-67-20 mark, two conference titles, and an appearance at the NAIA National Championships in 2006.
“God intended us to do this,” T said as Tavi knodded his head in agreement. “It is a calling. I use coaching as a place to connect and share a message of blessing.”
So thirty years later, Thavisith and Thavisak Mounsithiraj sit on the sidelines. With memories of their father – who passed away a few years ago – and all he sacrificed close to their hearts, they teach hundreds of young men and women lessons of perseverance, adversity, humility, diversity, privilege, and triumph.
They do what they were called to do: coach soccer.
This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 21st, 2010 and is filed under Features, Main Feature.
As a Sports Information Director it is sometimes easy to get wrapped up in the to-do list, the everyday tasks dealing with wins and losses, or the statistical achievements of our teams.
