Fútbol Management

Growing up, we weren’t always putting ourselves out there for goofs. In high school we mostly kept to ourselves, running role-playing games in whatever the Florida equivalent of a basement is and farting into mason jars, closing them really fast. However, for absolutely no reason, we decided senior year, we’d finally expose ourselves. You can’t really lose what you don’t have, so in this case, social status was a bit of an afterthought.

Before Mitch was a camera, he was a soccer ball by trade. He was a “star” player on our high school’s multiple-championship-winning team and he took it very seriously. Frank and I (Michael) very much wanted to be a part of this cool guy ball club… but we just weren’t serious enough. Also, we lacked skill, stamina, talent, practice, physical ability, personal hygiene, spatial awareness, fully-formed skulls, opposable thumbs- BUT we were determined! Poise, professionalism, and persistence were key. We donned our best Goodwill formal wear and scheduled a meeting with the head soccer coach to apply for the positions of team managers. “Um… usually we just go with whoever the seniors recommend...” he said with a thinly-veiled look of confusion (and disgust at Frank’s weak chin and bad shoulders).

So… we canvassed every single senior on the soccer team (including Mitch, who was predictably annoyed), gaining their reluctant endorsements through awkward face-to-face confrontation. And just like that, we were in!

The work had just begun however; we had to get SERIOUS. As you almost definitely know: in the high- stakes, viciously competitive world of private high school soccer team management, it’s ALL about appearances. We had no choice but to dress as much like our warped idea of professional sports coaches as possible. Suits? You betcha. Sunglasses to all the night games? Absolutely. Ties? (Sometimes infant-sized clip-ons?) Why even ask. Mic’d headsets for constant communication between the two of us? OF COURSE! A deep, repressed darkness and self-loathing? ...pshh… no… shut up!

We CONSTANTLY threatened to kick players from the team under absolutely no authority. We frequently insisted on leading players in pre-game exercises that were neither remotely legitimate nor ever requested. We often convinced referees we were the coaches of the team to the sheer panic of the actual coaches. And, we occasionally started flame wars on Twitter with other teams to stir the pot. We were… heroes… gods even.

At a certain point, our main focus was simply topping last week’s outfits. From turtlenecks to trench coats, corduroy to cowboy, we did it all… all without ever taking our sunglasses off… right up to the state final.

It was the last game of the year and the air was THICK with hormones and determination. The team had worked incredibly hard and they had all developed infallible character and unbreakable bonds. Frank and I were in full traxedos (a tasteful marriage of the tracksuit and the tuxedo), headbands with sewn-in mullets, and handlebar moustaches made of real human hair (just not ours).

The game went into overtime, shootouts. It was neck and neck. We were down but our star senior striker had just stepped up to the box (not Mitch btw). A hush went over the crowd… the wind died down and the lights hummed with anticipation… this was the moment of truth… everything had led up to this… everything depended on this… players held their breath… parents held hands… coaches muttered prayers… anyway, we lost. Frank and I stood in the midst of an utterly dejected and tearful team of serious, dedicated student athletes at the end of their journey and the peak of their defeat… and we were dressed like absolute jackasses. This was when we knew… we’re hilarious.

All jokes aside, we grew deeply invested in the program and the players, becoming good friends with so many of them and sharing tons of incredible and impactful memories. At our worst, we were nuisances to be sure, but at our best, we had unwittingly provided occasional, much-needed levity to a group of great guys under a lot of pressure. We formed meaningful connections, had an absolute blast, and came to terms with our awkward and absurd selves. The experiences we had that year showed us the importance of our friendship and the value of our senses of humor. We’re still kinda bitter we didn’t get championship rings for dressing up like dipshits for a few months though. THANKS MITCH!