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Daniel Jimnez
WR-13300-SS-12
Audio Narrative Script
A Clich Sporting Story

As I walked onto the the barren pitch, sporting the traditional yellow/blue Boca Juniors
uniform and my characteristic Copa America Adidas cleats, I thought back to the trials and
tribulations that got me to that point.
The journey actually started 2 years prior when I met the man who would become my
mentor all the way up to that point, El Profe Rodolfo. He quickly took me under his wing after
watching one of my practices, and I flourished. I became the best version I ever imagined I could
become, but it didnt come easy. The season consisted of early nights and early mornings, an
excessively healthy diet, and an unhealthy amount of running. I would wake up at 6 a.m., have a
fruit smoothie, then head off to the gym for some weight training. After 45 minutes of throwing
weights around, I would come home to a plate of oatmeal, four egg whites, two slices of toast,
and a glass of orange juice. After hydrating and eating properly for the rest of the day, I would
make my way to the field at around 7:30 for some technical training. To make matters worse,
every other day I would have conditioning practice right before training. Mind you, this was a
weekly thing, non stop. Never would we have a week off. There was no such thing as an off
season. But thats what made us so good, number one in the country in fact (according to
GotSoccer.com at least). I was so grateful that this man came into my life and showed me what it
meant to work hard. Prior to his coaching, I had always been the lazy kid who relied on his talent
rather than hard work. Two years later, I was a changed man, not the fastest, nor the quickest, nor

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the most skillful, but a force to be reckoned with nonetheless. This boost of confidence that
accompanied my obvious improvement in form led to my inclusion in the starting 11 for that
years state cup. It was a huge opportunity for me to showcase my abilities and try to gain a
starting spot on the regional and national cup squads. Everything was going smoothly until the
quarter final match. Scratch that, everything was going much more than smoothly, it was a dream
performance. Till this day, Ive never had a better tournament. I dont know what it was, but I felt
unstoppable on the pitch, tearing apart every defence and midfield with crisp passes and sharp
runs, complete with ankle-breaking jukes. But then came that fateful game. As an opponent beat
me on a one-on-one, I stuck my leg out, hoping to trip him and stop his advance into the
midfield. Instead, and due to a weak challenge, he ran through my leg, tearing my ACL in the
process. The pain was unbearable. I collapsed, clutching my right knee, and quickly broke down.
I knew from the popping sound and the swelling that ensued, that my season was over. I knew
the past year of work I had put in had just gone to shit. To make matters worse, it was my fault. I
could have avoided that challenge, but instead, here I lay, helpless and unable to help my team to
victory. Most importantly, my dreams of playing in the national championship, a tournament my
team was already been granted a spot in, had been ruined, and consequently, so were my chances
of being scouted to play at the next level.
After 6 months of painstaking physical therapy, I came back. Well actually, I never truly
came back (for some time at least). At the point of my return, I was a hollow shell of my former
self. I was scared to go into a challenge, I avoided sharp turns of direction, and was scared to
push my limits, for obvious reasons. I felt mentally defeated. I was no longer the confident, and
slightly arrogant, player I had once been. From the moment Pitu, the teams head coach, saw me

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he could smell the fear on me. He knew that I was nervous. He said time and time again: Stop
being a pussy.
I added, yeah Daniel, dont be a bitch. Man up or else stop wasting your time, but I
couldnt shake that feeling. He knew that I was heartbroken. He knew that I had fallen as I was
reaching my peak, but despite this, he refused to pick me up. He simply replaced me and said
nothing about it. This only made matters worse. Thankfully though, about a month or so after my
return, Profe Rodolfo decides to start coaching us again. After a few pep talks and a little more
self-reflection, I picked myself up. I went back to the same training schedule I had followed prior
to my injury and everything started to look bright again. About two months into my return, Profe
Rodolfo comes up to me and says, Que tal Pibe? (Whats up kiddo?)
To which I reply, Todo bien profe, mejorando cada dia. (Everythings good. Getting
better every day.)
He adds, Eso esta bien. Asi me gusta. Con animo. (Thats good. Thats what I like to
hear. Positive attitude.)
I chuckle in agreement.
He continues, Mira Danny, te queria ofrecer una oportunidad. (Look Danny, I want to
offer you an opportunity.)
Dimelo profe, I ask. (Tell me coach.)
He tells me, Mira, este verano voy a estar en Argentina, entrenando a una academia del
Boca Juniors (which is one of the biggest professional teams in Argentina) y quiero que vengas
conmigo. (Look, this summer Im going to be in Argentina, training a Boca Juniors academy
and I want you to come with me.)

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Ecstatic, I reply, Claro profe, me encantaria ir. Sera una oportunidad inmensa. (Of
course coach, I would love to. That would be a huge opportunity.)
He looks at me sternly and says, Mira Danny, yo tengo mucha fe en ti y quiero que
cumplas tu sueo, pero tienes que entender lo que esto significa. No puedes salir con maricadas,
no puedes ir con miedo. Tienes que volver a ser el jugador que eras antes. Si no, te vas a
decepcionar. (Look Danny, I have a lot of faith in you and I want you to live your dream, but
you have to understand what this means. You can come into like a pussy. You cant be scared.
You have to be the player you used to be or else you will be disappointed.)
That did it. From that moment on, I wasnt worried about the ifs or buts. It was my
last shot to make it somewhere in the sport I loved. It was all or nothing.
4 months later I made my way to Buenos Aires to try my luck. After two weeks of
training with the team, I made my debut with the academy team. Three games later, the director
of the academy calls me into his office and asks me, How would you like to stay to live here
and do professional trials next year.
I was in awe. I walked out, smiling. It had all been worth it.