¡Que Golazo!

After the game I told Tim that he’s assisted on 100% of my goals since I joined the team.

I’ve scored twice total. Stats don’t exactly lie, they just don’t always tell the whole story.

I liked this goal, though. We got a rare defensive stop and suddenly we were launching a 3v2 counterattack. Tim had the ball on the left side. Tim is a high-IQ, low mistake player who is also fitness goals. He’s the one teammate who has completed a 1-2 give and go pass to me because he always knows the right play.

As he took the ball down the left side, I made a run to the right far post, which is where I usually go to try to poach a tap-in but our teammate Juan made that run instead.

I decided to adjust my run, backpedaling to the top of the box to convert my far post run to a trailing run. Tim popped his head up and fed me a ball as the two defenders were drifting toward the goal. I received the pass calmly with my right foot—I gotta say despite everything I can’t do as a soccer player, I CAN receive a ball cleanly without turning it into a 50-50 ball. The fanatic and messianic way I taught my players, over 10 years as a coach, to be excellent two-touch players remains in my muscle memory. As I received the ball, I made sure to touch it lightly to my left foot. Our opponents were scrappy and high-effort and I knew the window to score would close quickly. But I think they didn’t expect me to shoot left. The overwhelming majority of American soccer players not only are right footed but also have trouble trusting their left. I used to coach my players that even a poor left footed shot has a chance to go in because the defender will always overplay your right at least one time. So just hit it even if it feels less clean.

In my case, as a middle school aged player, I knew I didn’t have the ball handling skills or my teammates, nor did I have a great nose for the goal. So I worked on my left foot. Sometimes it was kicking a ball against the garage door, much to my neighbors’ chagrin, using only my left. Sometimes I would walk around the house carrying a ball and dropping it onto my left foot to see how softly I could bring it down.

When I played for the Montbello Hurricanes, coach Bennie knew I would do three things, if nothing else. One, I would run HARD. Effort was never a problem for me. Once he even subbed me into a game, reasoning maybe only to himself that “very least you’ll run.” We must have been down 0-4 or something. The second was that I would defend like a maniac. Again, through a lack of skills, I could at least make the opponent FEEL me. I learned that sometimes it was worth getting a foul or even a yellow card if it meant my opponent would re-think targeting me defensively. And third, I had that left foot. I think my foot actually became my dominant foot as a young player. I was effectively at penalty kicks because I would line up straight behind the ball, sometimes not even deciding which foot to use until just before striking it. I also took corner kicks, and I even got cute with it, blatantly striking the ball with the outside of my left foot (I swear I was about to score an Olímpico and didn’t need BJ, my teammate to put his big head on it).

I sometimes miss those days when I would just do silly stuff because it felt like I was doing it my way. I’m sure my PKs and corner kicks looked silly and unserious but they worked. For me.

Muscle memory took over. After tapping the ball to my left foot I struck immediately with the inside of my foot—laces are for power, inside of foot for placement—against a hopelessly immobile goalkeeper—and felt a wash of calm as the ball hit the back of the net, just under the crossbar.

I take a page out of the Barry Sanders book of scoring. Just jogged back matter of factly, accepted a high five and pointed at Tim as if to say “you get me, sir.” Plus we were still down by 3 goals. We would fall, 9-16. If that sounds like an NFL score it’s because it’s 5v5 (4 field players and a goalkeeper) so lots and lots of goals get scored.

I am a very anxious person. My brain never shuts off and I get in my own head daily. It’s why I have to keep playing soccer. It’s my only chance to get out of my head. I’m not always successful at being fully present in a game and sometimes I defeat myself even before my opponent gets a chance. But I was thinking of that goal all night and woke up today replaying it. A good feeling.

May we all be as present with our loved ones, whether family, adopted family, friends, as I was when I scored that goal. In these times it’s so hard to feel present, knowing how many dangers and threats are out there, and how many people have seen their lives change for the worse in 2025. But we will never get out of this if we can’t be present. Are we seeing the open spaces and are we adjusting our runs to get into those spaces? Are we trusting ourselves to receive that pass cleanly and finish the play? Are we letting the Tims in our lives to see us and to connect with us on an opportunity to score and cut into our opponent’s lead?

Most importantly, are letting ourselves feel joy at our success even if we’re still down 3 goals?

I guess that’s my message this holiday season.