There comes a time in every man’s left where, no matter how atrociously he played a sport, he plays it even worse. He plays it so bad, and his knees ache so much, that the “I need the cardio” excuse no longer holds muster. But how can he stay involved in the sport in the flesh & blood? How can he distract himself at work with frivolous worries about Thursday night’s beer league game? Bless the Good Lord for sons & daughters.
This series, tentatively titled “Junito Conquers Europe, the World, and your Heart,” puts me in an odd place – writing about a topic in which I am incredibly emotionally invested. Granted, I love soccer and follow the sport quasi-religiously. Yes, I get moody when my hometown Wizards lose. But Junito, my son, is on a whole different plane. Please be kind in the comments, although constructive criticism is appreciated. I have great plans for Junito, and will need your help…
As an American of Mexican descent, Junito has one sole aspiration: surpass the glory of 1980′s Hugo Sanchez at Real Madrid. Yes, Junito will be the beast of the blanquillos, the matador of the madrilenos, the maximo goleador para todas las epocas (all time greatest goalscorer). In Spain, the word for the leading goalscorer is “pichichi.” At least for now. In thirty years time, it will be “Junito,” but you will say it with a hushed sense of reverence. And it inevitably will spark the debate about how the current top scorer could never hold a candle to the legend of legends.
We shoot for the stars, but must walk firmly on the ground. My primary task will be to ensure that the inevitable early success does not get to Junito’s head. I don’t want a Freddy Adu, wandering about Europe. Or evern worse, a Ricardo Quaresma. My secondary task will be to impart all my years of soccer wisdom into Junito’s unconscious, so that a pivot, a switch, a shot, will come instinctively. Please stop laughing. No this series will not be over in two weeks. Okay then.
Right now, the biggest red flag is a strong-headed brand of selfishness. The other day, Junito refused to share his talking toy-hammer with his older sister, and actually threatened to hit her with it! These kind of lapses may be moderately punished in the Turner household, but could you imagine Junito threatening Di Stefano or France Puskas in such a fashion? He’d be shipped to Getafe in the blink of an eye!
Still, the selfish streak makes me think I have a striker on my hands. Right now, though, we just have one little problem. Junito has never kicked a soccer ball. Yes, he can walk. He can also articulate coherent thoughts. Yes the kicking of the soccer ball has yet to happen. But I am sure he will love the sport. Why? You can tell a man’s desire by following his eyes…
Barcelona Beware…
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For what it’s worth, this is exactly what Kaka looks like when he first gets out of bed. Junito is going to be fierce.
I’m not sure how to take the “little Ricky” comparison – I’m pretty sure Junito already has better ball-winning instincts at this stage in his development.
Still, thanks for the well wishes and rest assured, Junito will take no prisoners, although the nickname “generalito” some have suggested has been vetoed.
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