\n<\/p>\n
Los Lanitos, Mexico — <\/span>on a muddy field Mexican<\/a> On the Pacific Coast, five cousins \u200b\u200bbetween the ages of 8 and 13 take off their clothes and take off their shoes. Nearby, adults help them tie the pre-Hispanic-style “fajado”, securing the loincloth and leather belt that wraps around their hips.<\/p>\n The children of Osuna grab a rubber ball, which weighs a total of 3.2 kilograms \u2013 about 7 pounds or seven times heavier than a soccer ball \u2013 and begin playing. Only the hips can touch it, forcing players to leap into the air or dive down to the ground.<\/p>\n As Mexico prepares to co-host 2026 fifa world cup<\/a>The nation is looking back 3,400 years to one of the oldest team sports: the ancient ballgame known as ulema, a ritual practice that was nearly wiped out during the Spanish Conquest and survived only in remote areas of northwestern Mexico before a rebirth in the late 20th century. Today, officials and its modern players are taking advantage of the momentum of international football to once again shine a light on the ancient game. <\/p>\n While players acknowledge that tourism has fueled the revival of the sport, many worry that projecting an “exotic” image undermines a tradition central to their identity.<\/p>\n “We must get rid of the notion that it is a living fossil,” said Emily Carrion, a researcher at the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM) and director of a project aimed at studying and practicing the sport.<\/p>\n That’s exactly what the Osuna family is trying to do. After the death of ulama player Aurelio Osuna, his widow, 53-year-old Mar\u00eda Herrera, continued his legacy, teaching the ballgame to her grandchildren in their small village in Sinaloa, 1,000 kilometers (620 mi) northwest of Mexico City.<\/p>\n \u201cThis seed will bear fruit one day,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n According to the Popol Vuh, sacred illusion<\/a> According to the book, the world was created from a ballgame, where light and darkness collided to balance life and death and set the universe in motion.<\/p>\n Long before the Maya, the Olmecs \u2013 the earliest known Mesoamerican civilization \u2013 practiced the game; The recreation of this clash of opposing forces was common in various pre-Hispanic cultures. Evidence of this lies in millennium rubber balls excavated in Mexico and approximately 2,000 ball courts found from Nicaragua to Arizona.<\/p>\n The game, depicted in codices, stone carvings and sculptures, had many variations and meanings, from fertility or war ceremonies to political acts and even sacrifices.<\/p>\n While some players were beheaded \u2013 presumably the losers \u2013 Guatemalan archaeologist and anthropologist Carlos Navarrete reported that this only happened during specific periods and in certain areas. The physically demanding game was primarily a large social event, drawing crowds for entertainment and betting.<\/p>\n Spanish conquistador Hern\u00e1n Cort\u00e9s<\/a> The Aztecs were impressed by the spectacle presented by Emperor Moctezuma but the Spanish eventually banned the ulema and ordered their courts destroyed, possibly seeing the tradition as a form of resistance to Christianity. For Catholic Church<\/a> \u201cThe ball was the living devil,\u201d Carrion said.<\/p>\n The game \u2014 played by hitting the ball with the hip, forearm or hammer \u2014 survived only on the Mexican North Pacific coast, where the colonial process led by Jesuit priests was less aggressive and ulema were accepted at Catholic celebrations, said Manuel Aguilar Moreno, a professor of art history at California State University.<\/p>\n on the inauguration day of 1968 Mexico City Olympics<\/a>Viewers watched as burly men contorted their bodies in unexpected ways to keep the rubber ball rolling for as long as possible. The exhibit promoted study about the ballgame and how to preserve it over the next decades.<\/p>\n Herrera’s eldest son, Luis Aurelio Osuna, 30, started playing hip ulama after school, as his father did decades ago at Los Llanitos, a farm next to the port city of Mazatl\u00e1n. Now his three children also play.<\/p>\n Osuna and her mother teach the children to hit the ball and guide them through complex rules, including a scoring system with points won and lost.<\/p>\n They do it because of passion, but also because of practicality in a situation where organized crime is widespread<\/a>. <\/p>\n \u201cWe need to find a way to entertain them with good things,\u201d Osuna said.<\/p>\n Hip Ulama teams have a maximum of six players and the Osuna family occasionally participates in tournaments or exhibitions.<\/p>\n Decades ago, matches were large events associated with religious festivals, sometimes lasting an entire week. But gone are the days when interest waned and rubber balls became difficult to get. <\/p>\n In the 1980s, filmmaker Roberto Rochin documented the work of perhaps the last rubber ball-maker in the mountains of Sinaloa. Artisans created them similar to the Olmecs, who discovered that mixing hot rubber sap with a plant created a strong, elastic, and durable material. This civilization made some of the oldest balls in the world. <\/p>\n