La Pelota: Introduction
It has been approximately two years now since I started coaching, something that I knew I wanted to try—something I needed to try. It clawed at me like an incessant itch requiring alleviation, and upon itching, I couldn’t stop. It has determined what I currently devote myself to, and what I plan on devoting myself to for the long foreseeable future.
Ever since watching games with my dad in the living room, who lived through these matches as if everything in the world depended on them, I have grown obsessed with this sport. I remember the passion he had. That passion passed on to me, and shortly after, everything in my life would depend on these matches, too. I spent hours upon hours watching, playing, or part of heated debates at school with friends or fans of rival teams, comparing players or clubs, tactics or play styles, giving predictions on upcoming matches, all for the sake of bragging rights and, on occasion, a few bucks. I like to think that I knew something. As I grew older I continued these debates at bars with men that slurred their words and fueled their arguments with pints of beer and continuous visits to the restroom. Again, all for the sake of bragging rights and a few bucks, except a few bucks now is a lot more than a few bucks then. I’ve lost more money than I like admit, but only because I am a fan before a pragmatist, which means I am a hypocrite and foolishly gamble on teams despite my beliefs, no matter how grim the odds. I still like to think I know something.
I started off at the lower levels—coaching academy teams that consisted of players no older than the age of 10. Here I learned about the importance of player development rather than winning, learning through experience rather than instruction. At that age, the kids could care less if they win or lose, they really just want to play and their parents only want to see improvement. They also do not listen very well, so tedious drills or anything with lines are troublesome. I think about how I learned how to play. I didn’t have a coach telling me where to stand, where to pass or when to dribble. All I had was a ball and last year’s shoes. We played on the street most of the time, or small dirt fields with tiny patches of grass, without any rules or discipline, scoring on goals made of bags or sticks until the street lights flicked on and our moms forced us home for dinner. We played for love and glory. Every single day. We learned from each other something more valuable than anything any coach could teach us. In Spanish we call it, Picardía, which translates to deceit or mischief. (I will speak of Picardía later on.) It’s something that kids today don’t experience so much, what with the invention of technology and all, so I had them play a lot of small-sided games, possession, 1v1s, 2v1s, and 3v2s; I didn’t give them positions or responsibilities, and I never called any fouls except handballs. The best way to learn how to play is simply by playing. Eventually they realized that if they wanted to succeed, if they wanted to score goals, it had to be together, wherever they were needed; they had to mark and defend and be tough—and, sometimes, a little mischievous, too.
After one successful season, I was approached by Eduardo, the coaching director for Fusion High Point/Jamestown. He asked me to leave Winston-Salem and join him at HPJ. To persuade me, he appointed me two Classic teams (under-15 and under-16 boys) with higher competition, higher pay, tournaments and travel—giving me the opportunity to grow and implement my ideas, to impact young players by making them better on and off the pitch, and ultimately, providing me with a chance to prove to everyone (myself) that I do, indeed, know what the hell I am talking about.
This here is my attempt of creating a blog in the way they were meant to be created, with an ongoing narrative, a collection of thoughts and ideas, dilemmas and worries, anger, sadness and joy. It is going to highlight the most important aspect of my life, whether it be coaching, playing or watching (but mostly coaching). I will speak of its history, its memories and most cherished moments, as well as modern football, the way I see it, the way I see it progressing, my opinions, and why I am so headstrong with them. It is one of the only constants in my life and I wanted to share it through words, and perhaps write it for myself as a recollection of where this journey began.
Welcome to La Pelota.
I will try to update this weekly.
Our first chapter will be:
Antifútbol
