The Mini-Life
Our first game in the 2016 Donosti Cup was played in a little town outside of San Sebastian, Spain. On a turf field next to the Estadio Gal, home to the professional club Real Union, our boys went up against the local team, Hondarribia FE, in a truly international fixture. Coming from Seattle, Washington, we had a diverse group of kids that showed soccer’s ability to bring the world together in the form of one team. Mexico, Peru, Turkey, Japan, Vietnam, and pretty much all of Europe were reflected in our traveling party led by a Zambian-Congolese coach.
When we got off the bus for that first match, people didn’t hide the fact that they were staring with curiosity. Truthfully, we had a team that was smaller and younger than every team we eventually played against in our bracket. On that first day, when my brother and I led our group to check in, we both had the same feeling without any need to vocalize it. Just a glance in his direction, a little smile, a twitch of the eye, and a nod was all we needed to acknowledge that we were all being sized up. As we walked through the entrance and were escorted to our locker room, we turned heads and drew stony glances. They all seemed to be thinking the same thing, “Where is this team from and can they play?”
It wasn’t lost on us that we were two young black men leading a team from the USA to compete in an international tournament in one of the most decorated soccer playing nations in the world. Spain, like the rest of Europe, is also a place where black players are routinely whistled at and harassed by fans. Additionally, there is an arrogance that Europeans have towards the game largely due to the history and tradition that their top teams possess. Spain, Germany, England, Italy, and France are usually where the best players, from around the world, dream of going in order to earn the most money and compete in very old and prestigious tournaments. I would argue that this is yet another example of a long history of European global imperialism, but that is a topic for another day. Nevertheless, on an overcast summer day in July of 2016, our young warrior-artists were playing in a big game very far from home.
Taking a group of 12 year-olds to the other side of the globe to compete in any sport is challenging for many reasons. For our families, it was the culmination of a two-year journey spent with their kids trying to teach them how to become better young people. In the process, I tried to help them grow as soccer players. The opportunity to travel to Spain was, first and foremost, a chance to literally and figuratively expand their world, to realize that incredible things are possible with hard work and persistence. Beyond soccer, the life lessons included the importance of each individual working for the benefit of the group and the incredible power of belief and camaraderie. This was exemplified by our fundraising efforts, which lasted almost a year and included early morning sessions cleaning up garbage at a stadium capable of holding 70,000 people.
From a purely soccer point of view, I wanted the trip to illuminate a very simple and crucial point so that each one of my players would not give into whatever fears stand in the way of their dreams. I wanted them to see that the game is the same everywhere; that kids from Spain, France, and Argentina play the same game that we do in the United States. The difference is not in the game itself but largely in the frequency and ferocity with which people in other places approach the sport from a young age. But if we work hard, reflect on the quality of our coaching, and encourage players to think, then there is absolutely no reason that teams from the United States cannot play a more nuanced brand of soccer and compete with the world’s best.
In the final moments before taking the field we stood in a locker room in the bowels of Estadio Gal, arms around one another in a tight circle. I reminded the players to cherish the experience and focus only on things in our control. We had no idea what the level of the other team was and it didn’t matter. I told the boys how much I enjoyed watching them play and how awesome it was that we had come this far together. Looking at all their young, excited, and anxious faces, I said, “All that matters is that we stick together and we stay true to who we are. Remember, we are always trying to be our best selves. Go out there and have fun. Show them what you can do.”
A soccer game is a kind of mini-life. When we send our children out on the field, we watch them go through an unpredictable condensed experience that mirrors human life as a whole. With their teammates by their side we watch them make decisions, struggle, go through pain, and fall down. We also watch them achieve success both big and small. As they go through highs and lows the most touching moments are when they come together, either to lift one another up from sorrow or to rejoice and celebrate achievements as one. Soccer is particularly special because all of these moments in the game belong primarily to the most essential component of the drama, the players. Coaches and parents, whether they are supportive or destructive, are largely spectators to the organic chemistry between the warrior-artists on the field. With no timeouts, a great deal of freedom, and ample space for players to express themselves, soccer tests the depth of an athlete’s awareness and their ability to solve problems in order to achieve the ultimate goal.
Long before the trip to Spain, I thought a lot about creating an organization of some sort that taught life skills through the lens of soccer. After coaching a group of families for two years and going to Spain with them, it was time. The Rising Point is built on the idea that sports should improve and enhance life. For example, learning to play soccer at a high level means understanding how to work with others, which is crucial in life no matter what you do. A truly united and effective team is what community looks like in action. We try to coach young people how to develop the tools they need in their larger life by teaching them how to excel in the mini-life. The game is simple. There is a space, some boundaries, 2 goals, a ball, direction, players, and a few rules. The objective: get the ball in one goal while defending the other. In the process of going through this mini-life, we are confronted with the realities of our current limitations as well as the possibilities of our incredible potential. The mini-life teaches us to face our limitations in order to reach our potential. In this spirit we rise. We charge on, trying to be our best selves and seeking to be a part of a collective greatness.
Finding a place for kids to play, learn, and grow can be tough for families. In a crowded soccer landscape sometimes the choice, if there is one, is much more difficult due to costs and also because people may not know what they should be looking for in a soccer organization. At The Rising Point, we have created an environment, through our camps and clinics, where we value thought, concentrated effort, and teamwork above all else. These are the elements necessary for young minds to discover success both in the mini-life and whatever else they want to achieve in their larger life. This is the reason I’m a big believer that it’s never really “just a game”. There is always so much more on the line. The Rising Point is not just a soccer organization; it’s a revolution. It’s a repudiation of business as usual when it comes to educating young people, especially in soccer. This is a rejection of the idea that we cannot change the status quo because too many people have too much invested in it. There comes a time when we are called to define who we want to be and all that matters in the end is that we attempt to be our best selves regardless of whatever opposition we face.
On July 4th, 2016, our team beat Hondarribia FE by a score of 2 - 1 in Irun, Spain. We were quicker on the ball, had sharper combination play in the opponent’s half, and often swarmed the ball with 2 and 3 players as soon as we lost it. I know it wasn’t the best performance I ever saw us produce. We didn’t retain the ball as well as I would have liked in possession in order to create more quality scoring chances. After going up 2 - 0 at halftime we had to hang on a bit at the end and our captain’s performance in goal was a major reason why they only scored one in the second half. Still, the better team won and I was proud because the boys showed what they could do and you could see their confidence growing throughout the match. The same player scored our two goals, the second of which was a long-range missile that was absolutely intentional when he saw where the goalkeeper was. I was proud that every member of our team celebrated the goals together and it was thrilling to see how much fun they had competing in that environment. When the final whistle blew on that mini-life, after we shook hands and had a quick team huddle, the parents and fans of Hondarribia, in the ultimate show of respect and appreciation, applauded our team as we left the field.
