One Sunday afternoon, Ender Mora finished his journey from the Texas border and ended up at the Flushing Meadows Corona Park soccer field with some new Venezuelan friends who had gotten off the bus at Port Authority four hours earlier. Arrived.
The two 20-year-olds were wearing only light jackets and no socks, looking confused and exhausted. As they waited on the field, Mora, dressed in his soccer uniform, was busy delivering water bottles, sandwiches and warm coats to the players.
“I know they just arrived, but I thought it was important for them to see this so they can get to know all the people here,” Mora said.
For decades, the fields in Corona, Queens, in the shadow of the borough's landmark Unisphere, have been home to numerous soccer leagues, primarily of Latino immigrants. Teams are loosely organized based on national identity. The recently added team is called La Vinotinto and is entirely Venezuelan.
It was formed last April amid the recent influx of immigrants to New York City (more than 183,000 arrived in the past two years). Mora, who has lived in the city since 2022, heard about the new team from another Venezuelan immigrant and immediately signed up.
The 36-year-old played semi-professional soccer in his hometown of Merida. He said that while all he initially wanted was to work out regularly, he ended up finding more than that in his weekly matches.
“We are new to the city, but it helps to share the experience with others,” he said. “Some people just come to talk.”
Many of La Vinotinto's members live in city shelters and struggle to find work, but “coming here is good for all of us,” he says. “You can escape reality for a little while.”
No matter the rain, sleet or snow, people flock to the soccer field every Sunday. In the summer, dozens of private leagues host and it is common for more than 100 games to be played on about 20 fields throughout the day. Some players arrive early to patch holes in the goal nets, draw new lines on the grass and set up folding chairs for spectators.
One afternoon in February this year, after a heavy snowstorm, the match continued despite the bad weather. Players from Colombia and Mexico were shoveling snow from parts of the field, while others had plastic bags inside their shoes to keep their feet dry.
Some pitches are regulation sizes. Some are more casual, such as those with large trees. Players simply dribble around the ball.
One team is made up primarily of Guatemalans from the same town of Pajoca, and the players shout instructions to each other on the field in the Mayan language of kakchikel. Another team chats in Guaraní, Paraguay's indigenous language. Planes from LaGuardia Airport fly overhead at regular intervals.
When Peruvian immigrant Jorge Chavez founded one of the many leagues to play at the park in 1986, he aimed to create a haven for newcomers, said his grandson Martín. Chavez said.
Nearly 40 years later, Martín Chávez, who was born in New York and took over the management role from his grandfather, has watched the league transform with each new migration trend.
In his grandfather's generation, players were primarily from South America, with some Colombians, Peruvians, Ecuadorians and Chileans. By the 1990s, more Central Americans had joined, and by the 2000s even more Mexicans had joined.
Now, Venezuelans.
“The only difference is that we're talking about new people on the news, but this place hasn't changed,” said Luis Real, 56, who came to New York from Mexico's Guerrero state 20 years ago. . “This is a place where we come to eat, spend time together, and make connections.”
Real, who runs a flower shop in Queens under the name Lucho, no longer plays, but still comes every Sunday to cheer on his friends.
Churches and other religious institutions have built informal networks to help recent immigrants by offering food, clothing donations and even legal advice, but this park offers a different kind of Eucharist. Communion is being held, Leal said.
“Every Sunday we communicate with the ball,” he said. “You're not just playing the game, you're watching from the sidelines as you make friends. It helps build a community.”
