The rules for the Intramural Sports Program at UW were that we had to register our team by the specified date with a complete roster of names with student ID numbers. We were passionate but not very organized; so we didn’t know who was going to be on our team in time for registration. The previous fall we had made some friends during informal scrimmages; but we hadn’t seen most of these guys in months. We submitted a roster that was complete according to the rules, but totally fictitious. They welcomed us to the program. We roamed the streets of Madison searching for players. We made up Guevara’s Guerillas T Shirts emblazoned with our battle cry: “Mate Mutilar”. Mate was our fuel and Mutilar from Spanish: to defeat totally.

The other teams consisted of the Math Club, the Chem Wipes and the like. They all fit the description and spirit of intramural sports at UW. All, that is, except us. We were a rag tag bunch of misfits. Our first game was against the Math Club. A bunch of our friends had turned out. Jack’s girlfriend and her three roommates were there as our cheerleaders. Saul had brewed up some Mate and we were all hooting and having a good old time. There was a moment of awkwardness when the officials couldn’t match the team members with the roster. We sent Will to talk to them. Will was a business major, the cleanest cut of the bunch, and he could talk a working girl into giving it away. After some parlaying with the officials, Will came strolling back across the field and said: “Let’s play.” We stormed onto the field screaming “Mate Mutilar” as the girls cheered. The Math Club never scored on us. We won 4 – 0. Much celebration ensued.

The second game was against the business school. They called themselves “The Boss”. The growing contingent on our sideline was shouting “What about the workers” and other proletariat slogans. Will was trying to placate the officials again. The Boss never stood a chance. One of their forwards was advancing the ball toward our goal and ran up against Sid. Now Sid had just come back from a tour in Vietnam, and was a pretty serious guy. He never wore anything except black combat boots, BDU’s and a white T Shirt, in this case a Guevara’s Guerilla’s white T Shirt. The guy took one look at Sid and cut right towards our other back. His name was Knut; but we called him Knuckles.
He was a big Minnesota farm boy with wild red hair and beard. Knuckles went for the tackle and the guy went down. The girls cheered “Mate Mutilar.” The guy didn’t get up. He was making wounded animal noises. Turns out, Knuckles broke the business guy’s leg. It took quite a while for the ambulance to get there and it was quite a production, what with the EMT’s loading the guy up and the ambulance driving off with lights a flashing. We took the time to brew up some Mate. Then something happened. Some of us were consoling Knuckles, who was upset over breaking the poor guy’s leg. The rest of us were carrying on as usual. I took a look across the field at the other team. They were clustered in twos and threes and talking very quietly among themselves. All of a sudden it hit me. They were scared! They actually bought our whole Guevara’s Guerrillas act as being real. In the best and truest traditions of guerrilla warfare, we had taken the advantage. They were totally intimidated. I started spreading the word amongst my comrades. “Guys, Mutilar also means mutilate, cripple and disable.” The game resumed, if you could call it a game. We took the field screaming “Mate Mutilar” with true ferociousness. The opposition was timid, to say the least. We won 6 – 0. Guevara’s Guerrillas won every remaining game on their season schedule, totally defeating every opponent.

The championship game was between the Chem Wipes and us. There must have been at least a hundred rowdy fans on our sideline. The girls had come up with some creative cheers over the intervening weeks utilizing key words like: maim and kill. The officials had been trying to figure out how to ban us during the entire tournament; but were apparently nervous about the outcome of such action. The Chem Wipes filed a protest with the officials, saying that we should forfeit the game because we violated the rules. All our team members were legitimate UW students, but in no way matched the roster that we had submitted. The prize for winning the tournament was a fancy new soccer ball, proudly displayed on the official’s table. There was much discussion amongst the officials. It was decided that we could play; but were not eligible for the championship or the prize. We won the game 3 – 0. At the final whistle we stormed the officials’ table and seized the grand prize ball. No one stopped us. We ran back across the field screaming “Mate Mutilar.” UW doesn’t list soccer in their Intramural Sports Program. I wonder why.

Kind Reader: The author in no way means this to be political. Rather this is about the common man’s ability to draw upon inner strengths and triumph over adversity. It is about cultural spirituality and the power of free will. The shirts which we sell were designed by the author and are faithful to the spirit of the original Guevara’s Guerillas. Wear them with pride. All proceeds of merchandise sales will go to the cause, and the upcoming book.

Please note: Original Guevara’s Guerrillas T-Shirts are made of Unobtainium.

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