MACA – In a corner of her campus dormitory in Bandung, Aisha wiped the sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her worn-out Manchester United jersey. On her wall, a poster of David Beckham from his Real Madrid era hung beside a Qur’anic verse about patience. Since childhood, two things had filled her life: the serenity of devotional prayers ( zikir ) and the fire of soccer.
Aisha woke at 4:00 AM. After her dawn prayer (*Subuh*), her fingers whispered praises on her prayer beads (*tasbih*) while her eyes watched highlights of Lionel Messi at Barcelona. “Subhanallah, even Messi’s movements are like a dance,” she murmured. Fasting on Mondays and Thursdays was her commitment, but today was Wednesday. She still sipped water and ate dates to prepare for her upcoming training.
In her civil engineering class, Aisha was known as the hijab-wearing student with a 3.9 GPA. But after lectures, she transformed into a girl with scuffed soccer cleats and knee-high socks. “Training at 5 PM, before breaking fast!” she reminded her campus futsal team, *Bengkel Bola*, via WhatsApp.
It was Friday, the third week of Ramadan. Aisha wore her captain’s armband while strategizing against an opposing team. On the sidelines, a water bottle and dates waited for *iftar*. “Pass to the wing! Create space like Trent Alexander-Arnold!” she shouted, referencing Liverpool’s right-back idol.
After practice, she sat on the grass, breaking her fast with water and dates. Her eyes gazed at the orange-hued sky as she prayed: “Oh Allah, let my steps on this field be an act of worship.” Her bag always held a notebook of tactics and the *Mu’awwidzatain* (Surah An-Nas and Al-Falaq), which she recited nightly.
On weekend evenings, Aisha never visited cafes. In her room, she rewatched Cristiano Ronaldo’s Juventus matches, analyzing his *stepover* techniques. On her bookshelf, Megan Rapinoe’s biography—legend of U.S. women’s soccer—sat beside *Riyadhus Shalihin*. “One day, I want to represent Indonesia in the Women’s World Cup,” she whispered, staring at a photo of France’s 2019 World Cup-winning team.
Once, her coach invited her to trial for Persib Bandung’s women’s team. Aisha nearly cried but remembered her fast. “This is a blessing, but I must stay steadfast (*istiqomah*),” she told her best friend, Devina, while juggling training schedules and *tahajjud* prayers.
On the 27th of Ramadan, *Bengkel Bola* was invited to an inter-campus futsal tournament. The final fell on a Monday—Aisha’s voluntary fasting day. “Can you really play 20 minutes without water?” Devina worried. Aisha smiled: “Beckham played 120 minutes with a broken rib in the World Cup. This is just thirst.”
At the 75th minute, the score was 2-2. Aisha dribbled past two defenders, mimicking Neymar’s PSG flair. As she prepared to shoot, her legs trembled. From the stands, the Maghrib call to prayer echoed. “*Bismillah!*” she yelled. Her curling strike hit the top-left corner, mirroring Beckham’s iconic 2001 free kick for England.
“Dear Mr. Beckham,
If we ever meet, I’d ask: How do you stay humble when the world praises you? I learn hard work from you, but humility from the Prophet. One day, pray I become like Alex Morgan: scoring goals and kneeling in gratitude on the field.”
Today, Aisha isn’t just her campus league’s top scorer. She founded *Muslimah Ballers*—a community for hijab-wearing women to play soccer freely. “Soccer isn’t forbidden,” she declared in a webinar. “Look at Fran Kirby at Chelsea or Sam Kerr’s ethics.”
Every Monday and Thursday, she fasts. Every pre-*iftar*, she trains. On her desk sit two trophies: one from a futsal tournament, another from a campus Qur’an memorization contest. “I’ll prove that being a *hafidzah* (Qur’an memorizer) and a striker can coexist,” she told a campus reporter.
A month ago, a Persib scout said, “We need players with your grit.” Aisha laughed: “Sure, if practice doesn’t clash with *tarawih* prayers.”
Deep down, her dream burns: one day, her name will echo alongside clubs like Olympique Lyonnais or Wolfsburg—teams that honor women athletes. Until then, she’ll keep running between the call to prayer and the referee’s whistle, between *zikir* and goal celebrations.
Friends joke: “Aisha, you’re Siti Hardijanti (Indonesian women’s soccer pioneer) meets Maher Zain!” She waves it off: “I just want to be myself: a Muslimah who loves Allah, family, and soccer—in that order.”
On the field, she ends every goal with a prostration of thanks. Off it, she blushes while watching Erling Haaland’s Borussia Dortmund highlights. “He’s a goal monster, yet humble. That’s my ideal,” she smiles.
To Aisha, life is simple: soccer is a prayer reflected through her feet. And as long as the sky arches over the field, she’ll keep running—her hijab fluttering, her heart anchored in hopeful devotion.
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