In January 1984, I transferred from US European Command in Stuttgart, Germany to the aircraft carrier USS Independence in Norfolk, Va. The ship was preparing for a Middle East deployment later that year. The deployment would last an unusually short four months because the ship was scheduled for overhaul on return.

The ship had a soccer team, and I volunteered to coach it. I inherited bags of uniforms and balls from the prior coach. My players were young enlisted men.

Our first and only game in Norfolk was against a visiting Swedish destroyer. We lost the game and failed in another way: my counterpart from the destroyer gave us one of his ship’s plaques, but I had forgotten to bring one for him. The next day, I bicycled to his ship and sheepishly gave him an Independence plaque.

In October, we left Norfolk on deployment to the North Arabian Sea. We made a six-day port call in Palma de Mallorca, Spain; and I asked the advance team to schedule us a game.

The night of the game, I was delayed on the ship, and my team went ahead without me. By the time I caught up with them, they were playing a local soccer club under lights in a stadium, and spectators were shouting “Olé.”

I remembered the plaque this time. Our player at the center of the team photo is holding it. After the game, both teams went to a downtown bar for drinks, snacks, and fellowship.

Five days later, we entered the Arabian Sea via the Suez Canal. The ship conducted flight operations for a few weeks, then stood down for a day of “steel beach”— a cookout with athletic events and games. The cruise book captures the event in a two-page spread, and there’s a photo of me on the second page.

In the midst of activities, the captain announced that instead of making our scheduled port call in Mombasa, Kenya, we were going to Singapore for Christmas. As we approached the city via the Malacca Straight, the advance team scheduled a game for us with the New Zealand Infantry stationed there.

By the day of the game, many of my players had girlfriends; and they asked if the girls could ride on our official bus. I said no, which resulted in taxis full of girls following the bus. Then the bus driver got lost, which increased the taxi fare. I felt bad for the men, but my hands were tied.

The game itself is a blur; however, I remember socializing with the New Zealand players afterward.

When the port call was over, the carrier returned to the North Arabian Sea, conducted more flight operations, and departed for home. We stopped in Palma on the way back and played the Spanish team again.

Before we docked in Norfolk, I gave every player a framed copy of the team photo inscribed, “Thanks for playing Indy soccer.”