Ivory Coast

It's fall again, and soccer has once again taken over our early Saturday mornings. There was a time when I would complain about having to schlep my kid out to an 8:30 a.m. game...but now, I welcome that start time, as it doesn't totally disrupt our whole day. (Plus, Lucia has swimming at 9:40 and Celia has soccer at 10:30, so things get crazy pretty quick.)

My diminutive #6 is turning into quite the little stopper. It's funny--his favorite soccer players are Messi and Diego Fagundez, but he plays more like Jermaine Jones. Andres is often content to stay behind the ball. He doesn't panic when the ball does find him, and often dispenses smart, accurate passes to his teammates. He'll have a go at the goal when it suits him. But he shines on defense, routinely making long runs to knock the ball away when an opponent's goal seems inevitable.

Two friends vie for the ball.

I saw about half of his games this year. He was reunited with his old soccer friends Nick, Shane, Varun, and Thomas, which gave his team (Ivory Coast) a decided advantage over everyone else. And not because they are all massively skilled--but rather because they spend so much time together, and are basically brothers. And maybe because Andres and Nicky diagram soccer plays in their spare time.

In those games I watched, Andres played fine. Nothing spectacular. Just workmanlike, professional performances. He scored a goal here and there, he made some good tackles, some nice passes, and even got beat occasionally. He did well but didn't impress much.

But those games where I happened to be elsewhere? Good night. He was ON. Revolution Academy, World Cup 2026, FC Barcelona-worthy performances. In one such game he scored three goals--which he recapped for me later--and was told by his coach to stop scoring. Crazy. Another time, I listened as a fellow parent went on and on about Andres' ball skills, which he described as being far above anyone else's on the field. One parent even asked Natalia where Andres trains. (I wish she would have said "in our living room.")

Eyes on the prize, tongue on the wag.

He certainly has a nose for the game. I keep waiting for him to decide he wants to be the next Landon Donovan or Clint Dempsey and just take the game over...but he doesn't do that. He sits, contentedly, and then strikes when needed.

The season ended up being a pretty easy one for Ivory Coast, as they rolled through all of their opponents leading up to the final game against a similarly-stacked team. It was a tense affair. While the other team bickered, Varun scored an early goal and, for a few moments, it seemed that the rout was on. But both defenses held, both offenses failed, and it remained 1-0 going into halftime. Not long after the restart came the opponents' equalizer. 1-1! The pressure was on. Ivory Coast had some legitimate chances to take the lead, but couldn't capitalize. Then, out of a scrum, the ball bounced to the opponent's striker, who raced down the field for the goal that would have turned the game. But Andres flew in from out of nowhere, knocking the ball away and momentarily preserving the tie. The whistle sounded soon afterwards to seal the deal.

Try as they might, neither team gained an advantage in the final game.

The team!

A hard-fought result for both sides, and deserved, too. Everyone celebrated with juice boxes.

With winter approaching, Andres will hang his cleats up for a few months. But he's not letting his skills slide. He's keen on dribbling balls of any type--circular pillows, plastic balls, actual soccer balls, etc--from the front door to the couch, and back again, on a loop. Over and over and over. He claims it's good practice. And there's not much I can do about it, since I can't ever seem to get the ball away from him.