I found myself on a dirty concrete-dominated playground in a gang infested neighborhood. I was there coaching underprivileged kids in soccer as part of the St. Sebastian Sports Project--a community service venture dedicated to providing equal opportunity to less privileged kids in sports. Despite my modest upbringing in the wealthy enclave of Manhattan Beach California, I was not unused to being in these kinds of neighborhoods. For three years, I played for Chivas USA’s Major League Soccer academy program, and we practiced in a neighborhood that rivaled this one in terms of poverty and danger. Yet, in the midst of the hardship, I met incredible people who were respectful, who were hard-working, and who looked out for each other, as they tried to escape the mean streets they lived on.
Today though, my attention was not drawn to the dire circumstances the kids faced or even the scary neighborhood.... I was drawn to one particular kid, a kid who was clearly underage and underweight, a kid with unspeakable talent for the beautiful game of soccer. He was dirty from head to toe. He did not have soccer cleats. His shoes didn't fit him, and they would inevitably fall off every time he kicked the ball. He would come to me to tie his shoes, and I would tie them as tight as I could to try and keep them on; but they would never seem to stay on.... It seemed to me that he was on the ground more than he was upright, with the bigger kids knocking him down, and his resilience made me start thinking about the game I love.
Over the last couple of years, soccer has become a giant competition for me . Each day, performance was the only focus, and I was in a constant daily grind to keep my starting position. My stress over perfection each time I stepped on the pitch compounded, and I was losing the passion and love for the game I had when I first started playing. But to this boy, a boy with an unbreakable passion and will to succeed, soccer was enjoyable. He laughed and played as if nothing else mattered. He didn’t care that his shoes did not fit, that his soccer ball was in tatters, that he had to play on concrete, that he was clearly haggard, or even if he was winning or losing. He played for the love of the game, and nothing was going to hold him back. I helped him with skill and sportsmanship, and he ended up helping me reconnect to why I started playing soccer in the first place. The experience reminded me that soccer is not all about winning and competition – it’s also about enjoying the ride and being a part of the love for the game no matter who you are or where you from.
