Xelaju 4, Atitlan 0

Saturday, July 25, was the main day of the fair. The main event of the fair is the soccer game. Several thousand people cram onto rooftops, on top of trucks, and even squeezing on to the edges of the field.

An hour before gametime, I found out that everything I'd heard was wrong. The younger team wasn't playing at all. The older team was to play at 1:00.

I'm not the trainer, but the head coach.

Here are your starting eleven. Four of them have never attended practice, but they've been training on their own.

You're playing 4-3-3 (four defenders, three midfielders, three forwards). Three forwards is a lot, and I only use this alignment when desperately trying for a goal. It leaves you weak in the midfield and too crowded up top.

And Xelaju is not a semi-pro team. It's a professional team from the top league here, and has been the national champion before. It has several foreigners, many of whom are absolute superstars here in Guatemala.


Jhonny Cubero with Cruz Pablo

Both teams walk out onto the field for the national anthem. The players are accompanied by little kids in uniform. The beauty queens are there. The guy from the radio is there, broadcasting live. He's interviewing people from Xelaju.

"And now we're going to interview John Fulvar, the American Coach of Atitlan."

I correct the pronunciation, and he asks for my predictions. I start off ok -- "We're going to play hard, and hope to win."

He asks again what the result will be. I think maybe he's trying to generate enthusiasm from the crowd, so I in a loud voice I say "We're going to WIIINNN!!" No response from the crowd. They're not that way. I look like an idiot.



Even more so four minutes into the game when it's 1-0 early on, as no one closes on an open player 25 meters from the goal.

I'm on the sideline where the coach and substitutes should be. Almost -- I'm right on the line, not a bit behind it. There are two or three rows of fans in front of me, constanly sliding forward. The radio asks them to please move back, but no one responds.

We have a break-away. The keeper is out of position, and our player chips it over his head, but way wide. An easy goal squandered.

Half time is 1-0, and we're playing well. We're obviously on the defensive, but we've had a few chances, and are not getting slaughtered. We've sent one player to the hospital and still have three subs left. I called Geneen as soon as he came off and we saw how quickly it swelled. She couldn't hear me since the speakers behind me were booming loud enough to make my bones shake, but a litle farther downfield, if I screamed, she could hear.

We're allowed five substitutes, but don't have enough jerseys...

The second half is predictable. We're exhausted, and don't create many chances. Their 3 goals are not very inspired, but their passing is great. Xelaju are awesome, and we played respectably. I'm not going to be lynched!

We have a brief lunch together after. The mayor congratulates me. The players are smiling and ask if we're going to continue training.

"That depends on you guys, if you can find time and want to keep going."

One of the forwards responds, "You're the trainer, you tell us!"