Hat Trick

It has the making of a great story. A four year old scores 3 goals in his soccer debut on a cold, windy April morning, and then, 14 years later, scores the winning goal for the US in 2026 World Cup.

It could happen, right? At least the first part of this story is not fiction...the second part may be a bit of wishful thinking. Or it may not be.

Andres had his formal soccer debut this past Saturday. It was pretty awesome for a bunch of reasons: he got a shirt, met his teammates (the Bobcats), did some drills, and then buried three (3!) goals on the way to a hard-won, nearly-lost tie against the Tigers.

A post like this runs the risk of appearing too boastful, so let me state up front that whether Andres goes on to excel at soccer or never scores another goal at any level is fine with me. It really is. The best part of Saturday was his enthusiasm, his pure joy at running around with new friends--all wearing the same color shirts, to boot!--after a ball that none of them seemed to be able to control.

Now a couple years spent kicking the ball around on Turner St, at the park, at the field, and in the hallway at home have taught Andres a few things about soccer. Namely, he can do the following fairly effectively:

1. Dribble at a reasonable pace

2. Control the general direction of the ball

You would be amazed at how much damage a kid can do in YMCA soccer if he can do those two things. Being able to do one is simply not enough...witness the poor kid who managed to break away from the pack, with the ball, and dribble down the field, only to miss the goal by 10 feet (not joking) because he could not figure out how to turn left. It was a comical sight, repeated multiple times. And, in fairness, Andres did not score every time he touched the ball either--there were definitely moments where his touch let him down or he succumbed to the swarm of bodies tumbling towards the ball.

The Tigers took the early lead on the strength of a breakaway goal, about a minute in. The Bobcats defense looked a bit sketchy from the get go.

A couple minutes later it was Andres' turn to equalize. He gets his first goal in his first game. Even better: he can't seem to control his excitement post-scoring, and just dances around a bit before the kickoff.

The subs came on so I stopped taping. They all played to a goalless draw, so at halftime it was 1-1. Then Andres came back in and it was showtime.

I think his first goal was the best of the three. He sort of slid into the second one, and the third one was a result of his dribble getting away from him. But no matter how they got in, he seemed thrilled at the result. Perhaps that's the goal scorer's mentality...take the goal however you can, and celebrate them all like they are beautiful.

Despite this commanding 3-1 lead, the Bobcats surrendered 2 in the waning minutes of the game. The Tigers' second goal was fantastic. One of the Bobcats got the goals mixed up, and started dribbling the wrong way down the field, right towards the open goal. But before he could convert the own goal, a Tigers player, similarly confused, ran all the way back to the goal and prevented the own goal. (The sidelines were in stitches at this point.) This created a goalmouth scramble, with one Bobcat ending the ordeal by booting it into his own net. 3-2 Bobcats. The final Tigers goal was more conventional.

Good sportsmanship ruled the day at the end, as both teams lined up to shake hands. One team has to work on their line etiquette.



So there you go. 30 unforgettable (largely forgettable, actually) minutes, 6 goals for the two teams, 3 goals for your favorite number 2.

Naturally, he had a great time. The only time he got upset was when he asked when he was going to play soccer again and we told him it would be a full week...he whined like we had told him that World Cups occur every 4 years, not every month.

After overcoming this disappointment he enjoyed recreating many of his favorite game moments the rest of the day. He was the Bobcats, I played the role of the Tigers. Guess who won our backyard game? I didn't have a chance.