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What’s yours? What will you make of it? Check in with one such dreamer after the jump as our Diary Project adds to the time capsule.

Where should I begin? It’s been a long road to get me here. I guess we start at the beginning. 26 years ago, I came into this world a Mexican, in a city called Ciudad Guzman in the state of Jalisco. Growing up in Mexico there is pretty much only one thing young kids are drawn to, which is to say soccer is extremely popular. I think you and everybody else is aware that this is the case in Mexico.

My grandparents raised me – my mom moved to California shortly after I was born. My younger years existed from one soccer academy to another. One of my favorites was in Atlas, home to a very popular team in Guadalajara. I played for their youth team from 9-to-14, getting amazing opportunities to travel to Europe for tournaments, not to mention sharing the pitch with some of the Mexican stars you see playing for the national team now.

Everything was going well. Every child’s dream of playing professional sports seemed to be coming true. And then the accident. I was almost 14. I had a two-week break from La Academia Colomos, one of the many soccer academies for the club Atlas. It was a beautiful Sunday morning. I went to watch a local soccer game with my uncle, the one with the motorcycle. I’m realizing I built this up to appear graphic, but it’s quite stupid and random looking back on it. I was sitting on the back of the Idling bike in the parking lot when my uncle, unbeknownst to me, hit the throttle. I slipped, my foot catching in the wheel; my heal was nearly cut off. OK, so I guess it is kind of graphic, but really just a stupid accident. If I had been just been holding on. Instead, there I was, passed out on the road from shock. I woke up in the hospital the next day, a metal plate around my foot. 3 weeks in the hospital, followed by 7 months of physical therapy finally allowed for exercise. It would be another year until I was back on the soccer field.

California or Bust

When I turned 16, my mom asked me to come live with her in northern California, where she’d been for 10 years. Who was I to say no to my mother. If I had said no – I didn’t – it would have been in Spanish, because I didn’t a single word of English. Although I entered Napa High School as a sophomore, I was far behind in school and apparently soccer. Although the school had a soccer team, by the time I entered the school, try-outs were completed and the team was set. I was simply told I couldn’t play, and in a language I didn’t understand. The only Mexican kid on the team, Jose, explained it to me in Spanish. For three days straight I watched practice after school. Finally, Jose came up to me and said the coach would let me train with the team. Maybe I could play next year, he said.

It took all of about ten minutes into the first practice for the coach to tell Jose to tell me I was on the team. Three years of American high school brought numerous milestones and awards, both with my team and individually. I was the leading scorer and MVP of my league junior and senior year. Soccer opened doors for me in this country; it definitively brought some of the most wonderful experiences in my life. I am thankful for that.

You know how it goes during senior year, people asking where I was going to college. Had schools contacted me, etc, etc. It was the stereotypical story for an American scholastic athlete. I tell you what, senior year was the hardest year of my life. I had to take so numerous college prep classes, including the SAT three times - in order for me to meet NCAA standards. But it was worth it. Anything worth doing is worth working for.

Originally I was contact by Lui Sagastume, who back then was the Head Coach at the Air Force Academy in Colorado. He said he loved my game, but that there was one big problem; I was not a citizen of the U.S. and although I was going through that process along with my college prep classes, and I was not going to be ‘official’ before the school year was over. The Air Force was out, but I still think that would have been really cool. I was offered a 3/4 scholarship from Old Dominion University back east, but it was too far for me. Narrowing down those schools that were closer to the Bay Area, there was Chico State, Sonoma State, UC Davis and SF State. In the end, it was an easy choice. Besides the fact that three of my soccer friends where going there, the previous 2 years my club soccer coach was Hunter, who was (and still is) the men’s soccer coach at San Francisco State. While in college I had an unbelievable freshman year. I was MVP my team and was selected to the first team of the CCAA, the league SFSU was part of. During that summer, I had an opportunity to go and train with a second division club in Sweden, but I could not attend because I had to travel to Mexico to see my grandparents.

Instead, I trained with the second team from Chivas in Mexico and I was offered a contract. The offer was small, and at the time I was really involved with college. I chose to stay and get my degree, a decision I will never regret.

European Vacation

Once graduated, I played in the Premier League in San Francisco until about four months ago, when the opportunity of a lifetime presented itself. I was in Germany on vacation for 9 days in the town of Mainz. The friends I was visiting had other friends who played for the soccer team in Mainz, which is a first-tier team in the Bundesliga. Kind of randomly, I asked if I could come out and train with them, expecting nothing in return. It was near the end of the successful season for them – they were going to stay in the top tier of the league - so I guess they were in good spirits; They said yes. I trained two days with them before the coach approached me. He told me that he had two or three teams in the 3rd division (Regional Liga) that would be interesting in taking a look at me.

As luck would have it, the try-out was scheduled after the World Cup, which I was planning on returning to Germany to attend. All I had to do was extend my trip, so I could try-out for some of these teams. On July 26, I went to the town of Bayreuth near the border with the Check Republic. By this point, my English was pretty good, but obviously I didn’t know how to speak German, so once again it was a difficult transition.

I learned bits and pieces of the German language. I also came to realize that the language of soccer in Germany is much different than California. After two weeks of cardio and weight training – we barely touched a ball - we had over 5,000 people watching the first practice. It was one of the best feelings ever; you feel like an idol, people like you regardless of who you are, as long as you’re on their team. Girls… everywhere.

After the third day of the second week, I got an offer to play for team for two years. I decided I didn’t want to stay for two years, so I asked for a one-year contract. We couldn’t come up with something that pleased everyone, so I am back in America. I’m in the Bay Area, returning with only one regret. I should have done this earlier. The only reason why the German club did not want to sign me for one year was my age. Signing for two years gave them a base team with other players for the upcoming seasons, which was their goal. But while I was there I did get to play in 3 friendly games, one of which was against FC Bayern Munich. I was in the game for 30 minutes, but how many people can say that? I was on the same soccer field as Ze Roberto, Lucio, Roque Santa Cruz, MaKay and many other soccer professionals that are world known. I’m content with that and will continue playing here in SF until the next opportunity presents itself. If it ever does. If it doesn’t, no matter. Soccer has already provided enough friends and memories to last a lifetime. The love and passion for the game Will always be there.

-Omar Parra
San Francisco, California
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Do you have a story you’d like to share? Soccer means a lot of things to a lot of people, so we came up with The Diary Project to corral the mystery. No one will know if you don’t share it, so don’t be scared. Writing is the easy part, and we’re here to help. Send us you stories, ideas, and memories to thisisamericansoccer@gmail.com - and maybe yours will be the next installment of The Diary Project.