Washington Post
By Steven Goff
August 4, 2015
Miguel
Aguilar’s boyhood home in Mexico is a two-story brick structure on the
corner of Litografos and Libramiento Regional streets. Beyond a narrow
park and divided road,
a concrete channel cradles the Rio Grande and divides Ciudad Juarez
from El Paso. ¶ Some 1.5 million people live in the Mexican border city;
the Aguilars practically lived on the border.
A mighty kick was
capable of launching a soccer ball over the trickle
of water and tall metal barriers. “Unfortunately, we didn’t have that
many to spare,” the D.C. United rookie midfielder joked recently.
With
fields and playgrounds nearby, the working-class neighborhood was a
kid’s delight. But as a new millennium dawned and drug cartels took
root, Ciudad Juarez would
soon become one of the world’s most dangerous cities.
On
Aug. 30, 2004, his 11th birthday, Miguel and older brother Andres
climbed into their grandfather’s truck. With temporary visas, they were
headed for the Bridge of the
Americas and, ultimately, to Sacramento. His mother and sister were
flying to California, where Miguel’s grandparents lived.
He has not stepped foot in his home town or native country since.
“At
that point, there was no going back, especially to Juarez,” he said.
“It was better to maybe struggle a little more in Sacramento than going
back to Juarez and risking
something happening with the violence.
“We decided to stay here and fight our way through.”
Eleven
years later, Aguilar has made it through. He is neither a U.S. citizen
nor a permanent resident, instead navigating a legal process that might
be unique among professional
athletes in the United States. In January, a month after he graduated
early from the University of San Francisco, United claimed him with the
17th overall pick in the MLS draft.
Aguilar
has appeared in 14 of 24 regular season matches (four starts) for a
team leading the Eastern Conference and the league’s overall points
race. He made his pro debut
in the CONCACAF Champions League quarterfinals in February and started
both U.S. Open Cup games this summer.
United’s
coaching staff is enamored with not only his speed and technical
ability but his work rate, a trait borne from an unconventional
background.
“There
was nothing easy about his upbringing,” said Tibor Pelle, Aguilar’s
youth coach and mentor in Sacramento. “He always had to take the hard
road. So when he stepped
on the field, he played with hunger. Every touch of the ball was taken
seriously.”
‘Managing the bounces’
Aguilar
was the lone soccer player in his family; his father and brother played
basketball. He worshipped Chivas Guadalajara, Mexico’s most revered
club, and star forward
Omar Bravo. He remembers, at age 8, staying up all night to watch El
Tri, the national team, compete at the 2002 World Cup in Asia.
His
proving grounds were four dirt fields a few blocks from home. One was
almost crescent shaped, so a winger like Aguilar on a direct run would
leave the boundaries and
re-enter the field.
There, on those unforgiving surfaces, he learned the importance of ball control.
“It
was all about your touch and keeping the ball close, managing the
bounces,” he said. “You had to be technical to play on that field
because the ball was bouncing everywhere.
It’s not like grass. Ball control was important because it could hit a
pebble and bounce away.”
A
network of parents kept a close eye on the energetic children. Frontera
Nueva elementary school was a mile away. Aguilar’s father worked in
manufacturing; his mother
sold homemade tortillas and gorditas.
As
years passed, Aguilar became more aware of the escalating violence.
Across the street from the family house, he witnessed two men beating up
another. The blood stains
that never seemed to fade were a constant reminder of danger.
An uncle got mixed up with a bad crowd. One day, he disappeared without a trace.
“It
really started to sink in,” he said. “It hits you hard, but then it
happens so often and you hear it all the time, people become get used to
it.”
The city was becoming the epicenter of violence between the Juarez and Sinaloa cartels.
The
last straw for the family, he said, was when his mother and sister were
walking in a park. A man approached on a bicycle and tried to sweep up
the teenager. She fought
back and escaped. The man rode away.
“The
situation was bad,” said Aguilar’s older sister, Claudia. “You would
hear about this girl disappearing, that girl disappearing. I didn’t want
to leave the house and
go to school.”
Their mother, Carmen, decided it was time to go. (By then, she was separated from her husband.)
At a yard sale, Miguel remembers relinquishing his beloved stack of Disney videos, Hot Wheels cars and action figures.
“I
didn’t want to go,” he said. “I’d been there all my life. It’s where my
friends were. I was afraid to go to a new school and make new friends.
It was for the best,
and my mom knew that.”
The
1,200-mile ride with his brother and grandfather took them through
Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and California. A week later, without a lick
of English in his vocabulary,
Aguilar was enrolled in sixth grade.
While
his mother and siblings struggled to make ends meets, he was often
alone at home during middle school. They lived in more apartments than
he can recount. Between
games, some weekends were spent on a couch in the Pelle home.
“I remember asking him what his greatest fear was. He said, ‘Being homeless,’ ” Pelle said.
“You
think of him by himself a lot, he could’ve gotten into trouble with
drugs and alcohol,” said his sister, who is eight years older. “We did
have a hard life, but he
never lost his focus. He knew what he wanted to do.”
‘Who is that kid?’
Aguilar credits his mother and sister for raising him right. Amid it all, soccer was a constant companion.
His
mother and sister persuaded a neighbor to coach a local team; the women
pledged to shepherd players to the various fields. In spring 2009, when
he was 15, Aguilar
turned up at tryouts for the Capital Athletic Soccer Academy.
“Eighty-six kids and five coaches,” Pelle recalled. “We rolled the ball out and the reaction was, ‘Who is that kid?’ ”
Pelle,
a former UCLA player and assistant coach, took Aguilar under his wing,
coaching him at the club level for more than two years and helping to
keep him on an academic
path at Encina Preparatory High School. After a rough two years in the
classroom, he had become a model student.
Given
Aguilar’s background, a big university wasn’t going to work; he needed
personal attention. He also need financial assistance. USF, a small
private institution with
a deep soccer tradition, fit the bill.
“Ever
since I was little, I made my mom a promise,” he said. “I told her if
by the time I was 18, soccer hadn’t paid off, I would stop playing and
find a job. She never
said, ‘You can’t play anymore because we are struggling.’ She always
supported me. One of the happiest days of my life was when I showed her
the papers with the [four-year] scholarship offer.”
In
the West Coast Conference, Aguilar was a second-team all-league
selection three times and first team as a senior. He graduated with a
3.7 grade-point average and a
degree in finance.
After
overstaying his visa, Aguilar gained legal status 2 1/2 years ago
under the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, a government policy
that allows certain undocumented
immigrants who entered the country before age 16 to avoid deportation
and gain a renewable work permit.
His
mother and siblings remain in Northern California. His brother, 10
years his senior, owns a restaurant; his mother helps run it. His sister
is earning a degree.
Miguel
is believed to be one of, if not the first, DACA recipient to sign a
major league sports contract. Caught in the political squall over
immigration reform, however, DACA residents do not have a pathway to naturalization.
His
status has complicated travel with United. He carries a Mexican
passport and special work permit. Returning from a match in Costa Rica
early in the year, he got stuck
in Miami immigration and customs for several hours. He missed the
team’s connecting flight. Team administrator Francisco Tobar waited with
him.
In
the spring, Aguilar wasn’t able to travel to Vancouver for a regular
season match because he was awaiting a work permit renewal. He did
accompany the team to Toronto
this summer and is cleared to visit Montreal this weekend.
With
his life settled — he shares a Crystal City apartment with fellow
rookies Luke Mishu and Travis Worra — Aguilar allows himself to reflect
on the journey.
“I’ve
been lucky and blessed,” he said. “I have friends who were in the same
situation as me and aren’t as fortunate, both in Juarez and Sacramento.”
In three weeks, when he turns 22, he will have lived as long in the United States as Mexico.
Where do his allegiances lie?
“I
still feel my roots are in Mexico, but it’s close,” he said, smiling.
“My love for the sport, it all started in Mexico, but here is where I
realized my dream.”
For more information, go to: www.beverlyhillsimmigrationlaw.com
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