MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH THE BEAUTIFUL GAME

Where do I begin?

Recently, with the birth of FC Buffalo Youth Academy, I have been getting asked why I do what I do. I would go as far to say, that some who have asked the question, really are looking at my motives. But my answer is simple - LOVE. Behind my faith and family - is soccer.

This obsession, love affair, started nearly four decades ago. I genuinely can not remember a time in my life when soccer was not present in some form. I’d like to believe that anyone who knows me, or has crossed paths with me, can easily see my love and passion for this incredible sport. Soccer has provided me with soo much - life lessons, opportunities to travel abroad, relationships, supported my education, a profession and memories that will last a lifetime. But that is not why I love the game or even why I first fell in love with the game. Much like any love affair, there was/is a natural attraction to the beauty of soccer, but it is the essence of the game and all that it embodies which struck me to my core. Too clarify, I don’t love the game for what it has given or provided me, I love it for what it is.

Soccer/Football - whatever name you want to call it by - is more than just a beautiful game. As a game it is both melodic and harmonious all at once; there is an art to attacking and science to defending. You are constantly in a state of problem solving, whether you are a coach or a player - players are on the field making 40-50 decisions a minute looking to breakdown an opponent or stop their advances; you must individually and collectively problem solve. As a manager on the touchline, you are waged in a strategic war against your counterpart - both looking to outmaneuver and out-inspire your adversary. Sure, other sports share some of these elements, but to me they are different (a topic for another day). When you add this proverbial

individual and collective 90-minute chess match with the freedom and creativity bestowed on every player when they have the chance to touch the ball - the game becomes beautiful; this is the outward attractiveness that has always drawn me in; but this is not why I love it…

I love it because it transcends time, culture, boundaries, prejudice, race, religion (it can be a religion unto itself sometimes); it provides escape, release, freedom. As I child, I grew up in a “soccer” family; my father played collegiately and coached locally; my uncles played collegiately and professionally; and my closest cousin played collegiately as well. I grew up in the locker rooms of the Toledo Pride, Canton Invaders and Buffalo Blizzard. I was a ball boy at Kenmore East, Buffalo State College and UB; I was always around the game. Whether I was sitting as an “assistant coach” for my father, or pulling on the shirt tales of my family idols, the game was there. By being exposed too so much this is what I saw:

• A Haitian refugee sharing his passion for the sport with young men and women who were aiming to perfect their craft

• Locker rooms of players from different countries , who spoke various languages, working together for a common purpose

• Old mentoring the young while being respectful of youthful exuberance and what it can bring

• Players constantly pursuing greatness - in many forms - Championships or high-level playing pursuits

• I saw culture

As I grew from a little boy, a spectator with a ball, into an active participant with his own dreams and pursuits, my eyes and heart were opened further. A young man, teenager, who my sister started dating in high school took my love affair to another level. Ivan, who lived in Etobicoke, Ontario, Canada, was a Yugoslavian immigrant/refugee (looking back he was probably Serbian because he grew up playing for Red Star). To me, as a nine year-old, he was the greatest player that I had ever seen. He taught me how to do a bicycle kick in the sands of Crystal Beach; he was my childhood hero. But what I saw from/in him was more than just a player. He lived in an apartment complex that was mostly residents from South America. He played on a premier team in

Canada two ages up, but also played in a men’s league with his apartment friends and their community - which was mostly Colombian. By following Ivan, I spent every summer Sunday in Canada at a place called the Eglinton Flats, northwest of Toronto - this was my Disneyland. I would go from field to field watching teams of Argentinians playing against Scots, and Italians versus Croatians, teenagers and grown men playing against one another. All while their friends and family watched from the sidelines with grills going, communal coolers and kids for me to play with running everywhere. I learned Spanish, well enough Spanish to play with other kids while at the Flats. Some of the greatest food I’ve ever eaten was here; and maybe to my parents blush, we went to the Argentine nightclub after the games with the players and the families - here I learned to salsa dance. What I saw here was more than soccer, I saw culture. I saw, truthfully, warring cultures side by side in relative harmony. I learned what soccer meant to those that have less. I saw it bringing fathers and sons together; I saw it inspire little kids, strangers, to play and find a common ground - even when we couldn’t speak to one another.

As time passed and my journey and the affair continued, I began to reap the rewards. In 1994, my father and mother treated me to two World Cup games in Detroit, Michigan - I’ve been to seven Super Bowls, all amazing; none hold a candle to either of the group stage matches I attended. During this same stage, I was afforded the opportunity from 12-19 to travel to Italy, France, Germany, Netherlands, Austria, England, Scotland, Belgium and Portugal - all to play soccer. I was getting a global education. No matter where I went, I saw others deeply in love with MY mistress - which only made me love it more. Walking in historic venues such as Ajax Stadium or the Estadio da Luz took my imagination, hopes and dreams to new heights. At the age of 16, I traveled without either parent, to Austria with 15 other boys and 3 adults to represent the United States at an international tournament known as the Austropa Cup. Meeting with the rest of the boys in JFK International Terminal was only the second time I’d ever been with them; again, a common love made it easy to build relationships and move past fear and potential loneliness (I still talk to two of those teammates). The game was giving me so much, how could I not love it.

What came after was a culmination of years of work, and sacrifice by both me and very much so by my parents. I was blessed with the opportunity to matriculate at the University of New Hampshire and play soccer, with some tuition covered. Not all love affairs are easy or smooth - at UNH - we had some rough moments; there were days I doubted myself, I had a water bottle whipped at me by my coach, and I struggled. But the game showed me to stop looking in and look out. I found mentors - like the ones I saw in the locker rooms of the Invaders and the Blizzard. I found people who loved the game and wanted to mentor me to be a better player, and for the first time showed me how to share it with others. While growing up, I watched my father and his best friend (the Haitian refugee) coach almost everyday, but I always looked at what they were

doing and drew from it for my selfish pursuits. At UNH I learned there was much more for me when I learned to share the game. Things turned around, and I was blessed with a six year professional career. I won a Championship, went 6-1-1 vs MLS teams and played in front of thousands live and on TV. Yes my dreams were realized, but again my love affair matured. Not just as a professional, but from two mission trips to Africa with the Charlotte Eagles. I can sit and regal tale after tale of what I saw; but it is more about what I felt. I was reminded of my youth as I watched the game bring people together who didn’t share a common language, just a common ball. I watched children with nothing find joy in the game, because of the game, with the game. I saw people in poverty, unrelenting poverty, find escape and freedom when they were on the pitch or watching a game. It was the final arrow to my heart, when I saw how sharing the game is the greatest way to love it, and see all of the glory that it beholds.

Most of my relationships are rooted somehow in soccer. It has brought joy, strife and maturity to my relationship with my father; and even mother. I can’t count the number of trips, or nights we’ve spent together; or how many times sugar packets and salt shakers have been used to recount games, moments or talk tactics. Ultimately, I met Jackie through soccer. I was only in Charlotte because of the game, and only at that Church because the pastor spoke to our team. I can go on and on - the game is engrained in all that I am and in everything I do. I continue to love it because I have seen, felt and experienced its power. Its power to lift, strengthen, unite, empower and transform.

At 43, I still play. Sometimes with my peers (similar old guys) and sometimes with the teens and college kids in the BDSL. I love to play, and when I play I still want to win. I find joy though in every moment, good or bad - BUT - the moments I have learned I find the greatest joy during the games, especially against the young boys, is when I can pass on knowledge, experience and wisdom. The greatest lesson this game has ever taught me - to truly love it, pay it back for all it has given me, to continue my affair - is to share it. Share it as a father, as a coach and as a fan. I only have this love affair because the game was shared with me; I didn’t find it, buy it, earn it; it was shared with me by others who loved it - my dad, my uncles, my cousin Jon, Jean Tassy, Ivan Jurisic, Manny Schellscheidt, Bob Sokolowski, Ken Hassler, Tony Lepore, Carlos Salguero, Dieter Ficken, Jeff Knittle and many more.

Back to the beginning, why I do what I do. Because I love it, and the only way to express my adoration and love is to share this Beautiful Game with others.