Content warning: this piece contains elements of death and war.
Disclaimer: The author is Mauricio Alvarez’s youngest child. 

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Making it

1978 — San Salvador, El Salvador

24 -year-old engineering student and soccer prospect Mauricio Alvarez was training in the off-season. The minor league player was the starting centre back, the leader of the defensive line for his team. He was a clean player, rarely getting carded during games. 

Mauricio’s coach, Antonio Toledo, thought his skills and experience were enough to play in the highest division. Toledo put in a good word to CD Universidad’s first team’s coach, Juan Barraza. Barraza invited Mauricio to training. 

“I was excited because this was my chance to play on a professional team,” Mauricio said.

After a week of training, the team had their first friendly. Barraza put Mauricio’s skills to the test and had him in the starting lineup. 

“I wasn’t scared of playing with the older guys. I was confident I was going to get a spot. It was just a feeling. I knew I was going to make it,” Mauricio said. 

The team’s win left Barraza impressed. He told the director of the club to sign Mauricio. 

“When he told me they were going to sign me I was so excited. I told my family. Everyone was happy for me. This was every young man’s goal,” Mauricio said.

His six younger siblings would watch him play every other home game. His parents were happy for him, especially his dad.

Where it all began

1963 – Ciudad Barrios, El Salvador 

In the Northeast region of El Salvador lived nine-year-old Mauricio. He often walked around the small town carrying a soccer ball, earning him the nickname Mauricio “Pelota” — Spanish for “soccer ball.” He was a quiet kid. After school and on weekends he and the neighbourhood boys played soccer in the dusty gravel roads with two rocks as the goalposts and a heavy, beaten-up leather ball. Mauricio knew nothing about professional soccer, but he loved playing. 

His only pair of shoes were worn rugged from playing on gravel roads everyday. 

“I would go to the town shoemaker often and he would glue my shoes back together,” Mauricio said. 

He lived alone with his grandma, and she didn’t like having to pay for shoe repairs. Mauricio and his friends would play until dusk against his grandmother’s orders. She told his teacher to punish him because he wouldn’t listen to her.

“Almost every day I would get disciplined by the teacher. I told him he can hit me every day, but I’ll never stop playing,” Mauricio said.

His tenacity eventually made his teacher give up.  

Mauricio’s parents lived 158 km away in the country’s capital, San Salvador. His mom, Emma, worked as a servant, and his dad, Neftalí, worked in construction. Mauricio lived with his grandma so his parents could work their minimum wage jobs without having to pay for a nanny. He would visit them during school holidays. His parents were delighted their son showed interest in soccer. His dad was a big soccer fan. 

When Mauricio was nine his dad brought him to Flor Blanca National Stadium to watch his first professional game. This became a regular activity they would do every time Mauricio would visit. As a teenager, he started playing in the stadium for his club team.

At that time, Emma and Neftalí both worked six days a week. Minimum wage for a day’s work was three colones 20 cents, the equivalent of $1.25 USD per day. Finding full-time employment was a problem for many. Mauricio remembers women mostly staying home to care for their families and many men working in agriculture.

The economy relied heavily on coffee. It made up 95 per cent of the country’s income. But the wealth from this industry wasn’t distributed fairly. Farmers and labourers earned low wages and had poor labour protection laws. For decades, elitist families owned and controlled a great portion of land and production for coffee. Earlier, in the 1930s, a peasant uprising fought against the upper class and government for equality in the coffee industry. A man named Farabundo Martí was the leader of the uprising. The battle only helped to establish the country’s military. The battle ended when Martí and 30,000 others were killed.

The land aristocracy continued, later focusing on modernizing, industrializing, and diversifying El Salvador’s economy, and becoming the world’s fourth major coffee exporter in the 1970s. The right-winged upper class military leaders were in power for decades, always in favour of helping the upper class, and suppressing the lower.

The catalyst 

1979 – San Salvador, El Salvador

While playing in the minor leagues and attending university, Mauricio remembers students promoting and encouraging others to attend protests. Throughout the 1970s, groups of students, religious leaders, labour unions, and peasant groups banded together to protest for equality in the country. Right-wing President General Carlos Humberto Romero and the elitists were opposed to improving the poverty crisis. Protests were often violently broken up.

In October 1979, President Romero was deposed by the right-winged military-civilian dictatorship junta. This was the beginning of the civil war. In response, demonstrators took action demanding an end to the repression. The govenment troops intervined leaving 50 killed.

Mauricio remembers most people being in favor of getting rid of Romero.  

“I remember seeing [protesters]. Sometimes you would hear bombs and shootings during the day and night, but I was still doing normal things at that point — I still had a job to do with my team,” Mauricio said. “When you went out, you had to be aware of where you could hide in case of an open fire.”

Love & Soccer

1980 – San Salvador, El Salvador

As a professional soccer player, Mauricio still made time to enjoy his personal life. He became close friends with his best friend’s sister, Flor Mancia. Shortly after, they started dating in 1978. The couple married in May 1980 and welcomed their first child, Bonnie, a month later. 

Mauricio worried about not being around his family enough. “Most of the time I was away from home because of practice or games,” he said.

Flor listened to every game on the radio but, because of the political situation, she worried for Mauricio’s safety every time he left the house. The feeling was even worse when he had to travel with his team. She would call him whenever his team was in Santiago de María to check in on him.

After having Bonnie, Flor was unable to find a job for six years. Mauricio had to support his wife and newborn.

Uprising violence

1980 — San Salvador, El Salvador

Tension in the country rose when human rights activist, Archbishop Oscar Romero, was assassinated by the military during a Sunday mass.

“That time period was worst of the worst,” Mauricio recalls.

Far left-wing groups and guerilla organizations joined together to form an insurgency group, Farabundo Martí National Liberation Front (FMLN), named after the Marxist-Leninist activist and revolutionary leader. With the support of Fidel Castro, FMLN united as a democratic party with initial intentions to help the lower class. The party declared to fight violently until their demands were met.

Reckless murders from both sides left bodies lying around to rot. Mauricio recalls seeing some of these gruesome sights while traveling with the team. “At first it was scary to see cadavers on the side of the road, but after seeing it so often, you get used to it,” he said.

In most cases, innocent civilians were the ones killed. Any suspected participation in FMLN was enough for the military to justify the right to kill as their focus was to terminate FMLN and their supporters.

The Nightmare

January 1982 — Santiago de María, El Salvador

Mauricio had just finished the season with CD Santiagueño back in December — the team he was traded to the year before. The team missed play-offs, so Mauricio made it his goal to clinch a spot next season. Meanwhile, to make some cash in between seasons, he worked as a coffee delivery driver. 

On the last day of the month, Mauricio was stuck at his team’s rental house in Santiago de María. The whole weekend he was waiting for the stoppage on the highways to finish so he could make his delivery. Members from FMLN announced they didn’t want to see any cars on the highway that weekend. If they did, they’d burn the cars or kill the drivers.  It was a method FMLN used to disrupt economic movement and boycott the government.

On the last day of the stoppage, Mauricio woke up to knocking on his door around 7 a.m. It was his neighbour Griselda’s dad. Mauricio often used her phone since his rental house didn’t have one.

“Her dad told me my wife was on the phone. I thought, why would Flor call me so early?” Mauricio knew something was wrong.

He walked into Griselda’s house and heard sobbing. Griselda’s mom was crying. 

“She looked at me shaking. ‘Your parents were killed,’ she told me.”

Mauricio was in shock. He knew he had to get home. Santiagueño’s team driver drove Mauricio back to San Salvador. 

“I wasn’t worried about being on the highway. My only thought was getting back home,” 

The highway was empty. There were some military guards patrolling the roads. Luckily Mauricio didn’t get stopped.

“When I got to the funeral home, I found out my brother was killed, too,” he said. Though the government had been targeting FMLN supporters, Mauricio’s brother and parents were at the wrong place at the wrong time. They paid with their lives.

The coroners told Mauricio the burial would be at 4 p.m. But when his family arrived at the burial, it was too late. They had buried everyone from that day early because the military were on their way. The military would go to the burials to kill more people thought to be a part of the left party. Mauricio and his family had no choice but to go back home.  

“I was sad I didn’t get to the burial but at the same time, it might’ve been for the best. If I watched their burial, it would’ve been more painful,” he said.

Never-ending chaos

1982 — San Salvador, El Salvador

Between 1979 – 1981, the junta military death squads killed approximately 30,000 people. After the death of his brother and parents, Mauricio took the rest of the year off from soccer so he could work closer to home and support his siblings, daughter, and wife.

1982 was an election year, and another extreme right-wing government, Nationalist Republican Alliance (ARENA), won. Rage broke out from the left wing supporters.

Chaos was the new normal. Power lines were cut, grocery stores received bomb threats, bridges were blown up, and coffee plantations were destroyed. The cost of the damages was estimated between $1 billion and $1.5 billion.

International journalists in El Salvador were reporting on the reality of the war. The major newspapers in El Salvador were not publishing the truth. Their owners were right-winged. Two other local newspapers, El Mundo and Diario Co Latino were bombed for reporting the truth.

Giving it another shot

1983 — Santa Ana, El Salvador 

The new season started in March. Mauricio was playing with CD Universidad. The team had been practicing for three weeks preparing for the first game of the season. It was an away game across the country. The squad arrived at a hotel in Santa Ana the night before.

Mauricio followed his usual routine of an away game: “We wake up, get ready, and eat breakfast together. We always socialize with each other at breakfast,” he said. 

This time was different. Mauricio was trying his best to relax and act normal. 

“I was trying to hide my sadness,” he remembers. Mauricio was known for being the quiet guy of the group. 

“Everyone knew what I went through last year, but I guess no one wanted to mention anything,” he said. Kickoff was at 3 p.m. The team had a meeting to prepare before arriving at the pitch. “I couldn’t get in the right mindset,” Mauricio said.

He sat through the meeting with a feeling he needed to get out. Mauricio went up to the president of the club and told him: “I don’t think I can play the way you expect me to. I don’t feel like myself.”  

Mauricio watched the game from the sidelines. 

“I couldn’t just go home. We travel as a team, so I had to stay for the whole game,” he explained. The team was winning but it was difficult for Mauricio to be happy. 

“I was watching and suddenly memories came to my mind. Memories of my parents, my brothers, my family,” Mauricio said. 

The decision to go back to soccer was difficult. 

“Since the beginning of preseason, I had these feelings. Sometimes I would practice, and my mind was elsewhere. I was playing well but I needed to be with my family, and they needed to be with me too,” Mauricio said.

“I couldn’t even force myself to think about the game. I was too worried. I realized I lost all interest in playing,” he said. 

Mauricio decided it was time to end his career. 

“After I quit, I didn’t watch games, I didn’t go to the stadium. What was the point? I didn’t even listen to games on the radio anymore,” he explained.

At this point, intrusive thoughts took over Mauricio’s mind. It’s a common effect of post-traumatic stress disorder. They’re thoughts and memories that randomly pop up and have no association with what you’re doing. PTSD may feel like guilt, anger, and fear. Other symptoms include the inability to relax, inability to concentrate, avoidance, and feeling numb. Experiencing trauma can cause hyperarousal and change how you think, according to the American Psychiatric Association.

What Mauricio once loved, now had no meaning to him.

Fresh Start

1991 — Canada

After Mauricio hung up his cleats, he got a stable job as a city bus driver. He and Flor had two more kids, Mauricio Jr., and Ivonne. They wanted more kids but as the war progressed, they knew they needed a safer environment for their family. 

They applied to move to Australia in 1988, but their application was rejected. They applied again in 1989, but this time they chose Canada.  

After waiting anxiously for two years, the family finally found out through telegram that their application was accepted. They had one month to pack.

“I was in disbelief. All I knew about Canada was that it was cold and at that time it was the second-best country in the world for standards of living. I was just excited to start a new life in a different culture,” Mauricio said.

Mauricio, Flor, and the kids departed for the north on July 2, 1991. During their layover in Toronto, they noticed many other Salvadoran families. Some of them were moving to Montreal, others to Edmonton, but the Alvarez family were the only ones selected to move to Winnipeg. 

In 1991, 232,800 immigrants came to Canada — 219,400 people were from Central and South America. Immigrants represented approximately 13 per cent of Manitoba’s population, according to the 1991 census.  In Manitoba, only two and a half per cent of the population spoke Spanish. 

Economists identified that at the time, Canada had a low birth rate and an aging population. Canada needed the “infusion of population, energy, skills, capital and buying power that immigrants bring to Canada,” reads an article in the Canadian encyclopedia. The idea was that these initiatives would help create employment and wealth in Canada.

The beautiful game

1991 — Winnipeg, Canada

After arriving in Winnipeg, the Alvarez family and other immigrant families stayed at the International Centre on Edmonton Street. 

Salvadorans were moving to Winnipeg every second week. The Salvadorans that had been in Winnipeg for a while would stop by the centre, curious to see who the new people arriving were.

“A guy named Mauricio Novoa recognized me — he went to my high school. So, he’s seen me play. I played against his favorite team professionally,” Mauricio said.

Novoa told Mauricio about pick-up soccer games that happened twice a week at Whittier Park in St. Boniface. Mauricio agreed to go. 

“I always had hope to someday play again,” he said.

It had been eight years since Mauricio, now 37 years old, put on a pair of cleats. 

“Playing soccer again was fun. I was excited. I knew I was still fit to play,” Mauricio said.

The group got invited to play a friendly game against the Chilean old-timer’s team. 

“After the game, some of the Chileans came up to me and ask me to join their team in the first division. ‘Yes,’ I said. So, I became friends with all the Chileans,” Mauricio said.

At the same time Mauricio played for a team named Star Latino. The squad included Chileans, Salvadorans, and Guatemalans. It was through this team where Mauricio met Alex Bustos — he played and coached premier level with a team in Winnipeg named Italia. 

“I noticed [Mauricio] right away. We heard that he played at a high level, but back then when a lot of people from El Salvador and people from other countries came here they’d all say, ‘We played professionally in our country.’ We met a lot of people that said that, but when they played with us, they weren’t very good, so we didn’t believe everybody,” Bustos said. 

But Bustos could tell right away that Mauricio was an experienced, high-level player. He was interested in recruiting him and teaching his team a few things. 

“He was already more mature. He was a good player, he was already more built,” Bustos said. 

Bustos’s team needed a defensive player and he convinced Mauricio to join.

‘[Mauricio] had a better, bigger, like an influence on us because not only he told us that he played [professionally], but there were a lot of people here that knew him playing out there, so he was a lot more credible.”

After playing with Italia, Mauricio began to get invites to join other teams. 

“The Romanians asked me to join their team. After that, we formed an old-timer’s team with Croatians, Chileans, French, Polish, Italians, Argentines.”

Their verbal communication wasn’t always the best with everyone on the team, but everyone bonded over the love of the sport. For Mauricio, Bustos, and most likely many others on their team, playing soccer was a vital role in helping settle into their new country. 

“I made so many friends. Everywhere I’d go in Winnipeg I would see someone I know from soccer. All from different nationalities, it was great. It was a beautiful time,” he said.

“It helped my mental health playing here again. Then I started working in my career and I couldn’t play as much anymore.”

Mauricio graduated with a degree in education from the University of Manitoba in 1999. 

He hasn’t been back to El Salvador since he left.

A peace deal was reached with ARENA and FMLN in El Salvador, ending the war in 1992. Approximately 80,000 people died during the war, and more than 1 million people were displaced. 

“When I came here, I forgot everything that happened in my country. The past is the past, I can’t continue with my life thinking about what happened. I still have the memories, but I don’t think about it often,” he said. 

Mauricio will be retiring from education in 2022 after teaching for 23 years. While he officially retired from playing soccer in 2015, he finds joy in seeing his passion for soccer living on in his children.