Profusely sweating and looking down at my Adidas soccer cleats, I could barely breathe. I had a dream, and I thought I would realize it. But when the coaches had finished calling out all of the names of the players who made the team, I was not one of them. Devastated…listening to the cheering of all the other parents…and the cries of happiness from the players who made the team, I quietly walked to my dad and started to cry. As we were walking, my dad told me something I will never forget. He said, “Not everything in life turns out the way you want it to be, but God has a plan; God has a plan for everyone.” At the time, these words meant little to me, but I soon learned that by failing to make the Los Angeles Galaxy Major League Soccer Youth Academy Team, I would discover my true self.
I was raised with the most Mexican of names in the most Caucasian of ways. I lived in neighborhoods and attended schools where I saw very few people of color. My last name suggested knowledge of a culture I had never experienced. After I did not make the Galaxy, I could have given up, but I found myself looking at over 400 players who showed up to tryout for Chivas USA, a Mexican based Major League Soccer Team, and I knew it was my calling. Here, English was a second language. The players and parents communicated entirely in Spanish. The coaches were shouting instructions in Spanish only. Unusual looking tacos were being sold, and I did not understand the menu at the snack bar. Mexican vendors sold unknown Mexican treats and cut up fruit seasoned with spicy powders. Everyone was Mexican—most straight from Mexico, and I was in a foreign land right in middle of Southern California. I was in Bell Gardens, California, a place far away from the large homes and safety of Manhattan Beach, California.
Deemed too tough, too dangerous, and too impoverished, Chivas USA was viewed as having corrupt and discriminatory practices by my friends. When I made the team, parents and teenagers alike tried to persuade me not to play there, but to me, I saw something different. I saw Latino players who were dirt poor and who lived in the toughest neighborhoods in Los Angeles show up two hours before practice. I saw each and every player shake the coach’s hand and always fight for each other on and off the field. I saw endless compassion, dignity, and love for all people even if they did not speak the same language or know the same culture. I saw passion for soccer, and my desire and respect for the game along with my hard-work and dedication, brought me acceptance.
The Chivas USA players welcomed me into their world and into their homes. They became my second family. Their families were large and extended, and almost every family member was at every event and activity. Ranchero music boomed, and I experienced King Taco, a mainstay for the Latino community in Los Angeles. I was invited to taco parties, birthdays, and quinceañeras. I saw the hardships, the poverty, and the discrimination these families went through daily. And through all of this, I felt myself changing. I slowly began to feel welcome in my own skin as a Hispanic and began to appreciate my Mexican heritage--the full range of who I truly am.
Every time a door closes a new one opens. Through Chivas USA, I discovered my full-self, which only happened because I kept fighting for my dream and stepped outside my bubble. I took the road less traveled; and it has made all the difference.
