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So you think you can be a professional soccer player?

Keyvan Heydari thought he could too. Almost did. Now some 20 years after he first tried, after he covered six World Cups (starting with Mexico 1986) as a journalist and broadcaster, after he contributed to outlets such as NPR, The Miami Herald/El Nuevo Herald, The Washington Post, L’Equipe, La Gazzetta dello Sport, Paris Match, Univision, ESPN, Gol TV and Telemundo, not to mention a couple of soccer books published in Italy… he wants another shot.

After the jump, Heydari delivers his first of several exclusive dispatches from a place where, yes, even a 45-year-old has a chance to live the dream.

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CARIBBEAN DREAM

by Keyvan Heydari

I am in Puerto Rico, but not on vacation. I am sweating it out, getting ready for what will be my pro soccer debut, albeit a few decades later than I was hoping for. I’m over 40, a juvenile diabetic, and a have a “real” job. Why am I pushing myself to play pro soccer at this age, facing physical hardships and medical risks while others my age look forward to a middle age of comfort? Quite simply, soccer. The lure of the game is just too strong.

There is a phrase that speaks of your passion prevailing over reason: “I want to play.” It means that somewhere in your eighth chromosome there is an urge to be satisfied before and above the vagaries of life—that moment before you remove your gaze from distances outside your office window and return back to that report on your desk. I’ve learned to pay heed to that primal instinct. A few years ago I had a health scare that rearranged my priorities. Those changes keep me alive. Those changes brought me back to Puerto Rico.

I was born in New York, grew up in P.R., and moved to Miami at age 12. I attended high school and college in southern Florida (U. of Miami) but graduated from Wesleyan University (CT) where I played soccer without great shame or distinction. I tried a short stint playing semi-pro ball. My best chance at playing professional soccer came just when the NASL disappeared. The indoor leagues were all that survived—a weed—until MLS surfaced in 1995. I was not an indoor-type player. I’m technical and have moves, but not the kind to dribble through four guys for a shot. I am a defensive midfielder whose main attribute is to intercept passes by reading the game. Intercept, maybe beat one man, pass, start the counter and move. Nothing for the highlight reels, but it provides balance to a team. At that position, you become vocal and assertive in moving your teammates to provide cover.

Heydari (second in middle row from left with a bandanna) at the University of Miami in the 80’s

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In the wasteland years of the early 1980’s when I was trying to learn this sport and there seemed to be nothing available in the US, I learned to speak and read French and Italian, which gave me access to some rich sources of soccer history and culture and became my first step in seeing the world through a different prism. Magazines like France Football and Guerin Sportivo became part of my sporting diet along with Sports Illustrated. My mother obliged with subscriptions to monthlies like Onze. And if anybody traveled anywhere, I requested copies of El Grafico (Arg), Placar (Bra), or Kicker (Ger) and dutifully absorbed the contents. Later I learned German and Portuguese and a smattering of other languages. In many ways, I have given up other opportunities to stay close to the sport, and maybe they haven’t been the best of choices. My daughter lives in Chile; I met her mother during Copa America in 1991.

Identity is a complicated matter, and with an unusual name like mine always provoking curious questions it is never far from my mind. Soccer has given me pieces of my identity, taking from all of the places I have traveled to. Hearing national anthems in situ, in a stadium filled with the voices of thousands intoning the same stirring song of identity and pride moved me many times. The Korean national folk song “Arirang” gives me as many goose bumps as hearing “Fratelli d’Italia” in Stadio Olimpico in Rome.

Over the years I trained and played with Argentine, Brazilian, Italian, Haitian and Uruguayan teams while traveling or working abroad, while Miami-area leagues filled in my time at home. But no matter where I was, I always found a pickup game. These loose games were the closest to the experience of youth, those moments where there are no adults, preoccupations, or relationships—just the ball and two goals. You see the essence of a person and maybe even a nation by seeing how they play.

While traveling or communicating with teammates from different countries, I have learned specialized language - soccer terms in many languages: “atne el qura” (gimme the ball, in Arabic), “joga bola no chão, não pega chutão (play the ball on the ground, don’t just kick the ball upfield, in Brazil), “doppelpass” (wall pass, in German), “chabuk takim” (good team, in Turkish), “doelpunkt” (“goal” in Dutch), “Tzu-cho” (soccer, in Mandarin) and “wenchok/aranchok” (left/right, in Korean). The richer the soccer culture the more soccer terms that become part greater culture.

Heydari conducting a Brazilian press conference with Leonardo, Romario, and Ronaldo,

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The game of soccer gave me a passport to see the world and find myself, but I had not returned to the island where I grew up. At 45, the draw of being part of the birth of a pro league in Puerto Rico was too strong; images of Caribbean dreams filled my head.

This new chapter of my life started as I was working on a story on the new P.R. league for FIFA Futbol Mundial, a TV show seen around the world. I spent a couple of days going to banquets and presentations with Sevilla president José María del Nido and Joe Serralta and Andres Guillemard, president of the PR Federation and the Islanders (the last two take special pride in beating the mainland teams). Then the league matches rolled around. I noticed something. The level was very spotty. In my head bubbled the old coaches lament: “Imagine if I knew what I know now and could still have a chance to play.”

I am in good shape for my age and have sports to thank for that. I swim, play soccer, or practice jujitsu about five days a week. People say I look (and play) 10 years younger than my age, and that’s before they learn I have been an insulin-dependent diabetic for 30 years. There are complications as diabetics age. Former hockey player Bobby Clarke and Anderlecht midfielder Par Zetterberg (Sweden) were diabetics, and I have spoken with Olympic gold-medal swimmer Gary Hall about the secrets of training seriously while taking 4-5 shots a day or being on an insulin pump. But I have no neuropathy or retinopathy and my resting heart rate is 52 beats/minute (normal rate is 60-70/min).

Ok, so it’s really just a semi-pro league, as some players are paid and others are not, but the P.R. league’s eight teams draw a couple of thousand fans each weekend, its matches are televised (WAPA America if you have DirectTV) and several clubs have affiliations with some big names in soccer. Sevilla Bayamón, River Plate Ponce, Fluminense Guaynabo and Atlético San Juan are the favorites to win the title later in October, but there is still the homestretch of the regular season to be played. Plus, the champion goes to the Concacaf Champions League prelims, just as the Islanders did.

For many years, I considered Puerto Rico to be a soccer wasteland. But then I traveled here a few years ago to do a story for FIFA Futbol Mundial on the USL Islanders, who are now one of the great stories of the Concacaf Champions League. I was surprised by the atmosphere present at Juan Ramón Loubriel stadium in Bayamón. And everybody likes a winner. To me it was a perfect hybrid. The team fed off the energy and the fans fueled results. (This is not what I experience at MLS and other USL matches)

What I witnessed in Puerto Rico was a combination of Latin passion but without the violence. Some of the comforts of the U.S. fan experience existed, as they turned the former baseball stadium into the country’s soccer Mecca. There was music and even a Brazilian “batucada” with dancers playing during the matches. “Plena,” a typical Puerto Rican musical genre melted with soccer matches—ebb and flow and rhythm. And the crowd at Maracana, San Siro, and la Bombonera are part of that give-and-take, creating theater where the crowd interacts with the actors at proscenium. Before the matches, a band and a salsa school played outside, giving it that extra party atmosphere. Beautiful dancers paraded in the stands at halftime.

And as “Boricuas” (a synonym for the slang term “Pricans”) are wont to be enthusiastic, they took to the game in the team’s 5 years. It is an island, and if you beat it like a drum with the same message, people respond. Many of the fans were ex-pats or Boricuas famished to see some live soccer, others curious and ignorant but aware the Islanders were competing in the USL. Basically the Boricuas like a party and a show, and they are getting it from soccer. At the same time, the local AA baseball league is languishing and suspended play.

Then, this year the birth of the Puerto Rico Pro soccer league. The league is no world beater but there are many good players who have come from the mainland and Latin America. The real arbiter in my opinion is the potential. Juventus started as a group of amateurs in Torino, and Joan Gamper at Barcelona. Any endeavor has a learning curve. The main catalyst in the Puerto Rican soccer boom is satellite TV and the soccer channels such as Fox, GolTV and ESPN Deportes, but don’t discount the culture.

Everything about it urged me to give it a shot. I want to play. Again. But I needed to get back in real shape…

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check back in the coming days for the continued Puerto Rican league adventures of Keyvan Heydari