I got put on the B-team at 9-years-old and stayed there until I was 14. 

 

I was told by multiple coaches that I wasn’t good enough for a top team yet, and even told that I was too small and too slow to succeed in college soccer when I was coming up through the youth ranks… 

 

Those are limiting beliefs that a young player can internalize that very well could be detrimental to their development. Especially if the player (and their family) doesn’t understand the landscape of player development that they’re navigating and are made aware of what actually matters at each age. 

 

Because looking back, it’s easy for me to see in hindsight that those moments really did not matter at all. Not being the best on my team at 9, 10, 11, 12, or 13-years-old. None of that really counts for anything.

But at that fragile age, where both parents and players are frequently comparing themselves laterally to their peers, teammates, and other families, you could see how dangerous a relayed message that a player is too small and slow to succeed in American soccer leagues could have been detrimental… because at the time, for my family and I, it was our whole world. 

 

Thank God I used those doubts as fuel after deciding that I was going to prove everyone who doubted me wrong, instead of reasons for why I could never reach for lofty goals in the first place. 

 

What I didn’t know then was how long that road actually was, or how alone it would feel for most of it. 

 

Because here is the thing nobody tells you when your kid falls in love with the game and starts to relay their aspirations and ambitions for what they’d like to achieve. 

 

Talent is almost never their problem. 

 

I have watched gifted players, kids with more natural ability than I ever had, fall off the map. Not because they couldn’t play or didn’t have what it took. But because nobody around them knew how to guide what they had. They got lost in the noise. They got sold the wrong things. They didn’t put a high enough value on consistency, discipline, and building themselves into the kind of characters that college coaches want on their teams.

Maybe they put too much pressure on themselves (or their parents did) and they burned out, got hurt, or simply gave up, somewhere between the dream and the part where it gets hard.

 

And I have also watched families do everything right, give everything they had, and still feel like they were stumbling through, throwing darts in the dark. Pouring money into showcases hoping someone was watching. Driving hours for the right team after work, multiple times per week. Lying awake wondering if they were doing enough, doing too much, or somehow missing the most important things that actually mattered.

 

The whole time, I kept thinking the same thing.

 

It should not be this lonely. And it should not be this confusing.

 

I, fortunately, made it. I went from that nine-year-old confused kid, to a collegiate athlete, to a two-time All-American, to a top-ten draft pick, to the MLS, to playing in Europe, to pulling on the jersey for my country. 

 

But I did not make it because I was the most talented kid in the room. 

 

I made it because at the right moments, I had the right people. People a few steps ahead of me who had already walked the road told me exactly what I needed to focus on (and what I needed to avoid). I had people instill belief and encouragement in me. People that held me to a standard that pulled me up instead of letting me drift. Belief, when I had run out of my own. 

 

That is the part most kids never get. Not the training part, but the room. 

 

The blueprint to build a version of themselves that’s worth believing in. Despite everyone and their mother telling them: “You need to believe in yourself!”

 

And how are you supposed to believe you CAN beat the odds, you CAN achieve wonderful things, and that you CAN accomplish lofty goals if you’re not taking the right course of actions to make yourself someone even you can internally, deeply believe in? 

 

So I started asking myself a question I could not put down. What if I took everything I learned the hard way, every lesson from getting put on the B team to the National Team, every mistake and every breakthrough, and built the room I wish my family had? A room I wish the younger version of myself had access to navigate my own development with more clarity and confidence?

 

A place where no serious player and no parent behind them ever has to do this alone again.

 

That is the BTB Locker Room.

 

It is not a highlight account. It is not another program promising exposure. It is a home for the families who are in this for real. A place with a daily standard you can actually step into. A community of people climbing the same mountain, so you are not on an island anymore. And me, in there with you, for the long haul.

 

I am not going to walk you through everything that lives inside it today. We will have time for that. 

 

What I want you to know right now is why it exists. It exists because too many good kids get lost, and too many good families get worn down, for no reason other than they did not have the proper guidance, direction, or support. 

 

You do not have to keep guessing. You do not have to keep carrying it alone. You can find out what matters most when it comes to your players’ development and navigate their ascension with a clear, assured mind. 

 

The doors will open August 1. 

 

There is nothing to sign up for right now. This is just a heads up to be there when they open. Again, I built this for the kid I used to be. Desperate to make it. Willing to do anything I had to increase my odds of success. But a kid who didn’t know where to invest that energy…

This is for him. And this is for you and your players too.

 

August 1st. Let’s go.

 

BTB.