Yours in soccer, 

 * Real Madrid iconic striker Raul has now scored 65 Champions League goals. He's played in almost exactly twice as many Champions League matches, leaving him with a 50% strike rate in the world's top club competition. That's not only ridiculous, it's unconscionable to be that good against the best of the best. You can make a very strong argument Raul is the best European club striker of his generation. BTW- Lassana Diarra (a.k.a. Lass), may be the best player on Real Madrid. Not Kaka, not Cristiano Ronaldo, not Iker Casillas, it could very well be the French international, who is the real deal and only 24.

 * In this space a couple of weeks ago I commented on Arsenal's Eduardo and his 2 game suspension for diving. This past week, Eduardo won his appeal as UEFA reversed his suspension thus allowing him to play in Arsenal's C.L. opener, a 3-2 comeback win against Standard Liege. Maybe UEFA has subscribed to this site and realized I was right. BTW - No word on the referee who started this whole situation.

 * Champions League Mix Channel - This is not a paid endorsement!!! But if you have DirecTV you have to check out the Champions League Mix Channel on 461. Tuesday and Wednesday, I literally watched 16 games. Yes, 16 games in HD (I do love my job). It was surreal to say the least. My eyes were moist as I flipped from Real Madrid to Milan to Juventus to Bayern Munich to Chelsea on Tuesday. And Arsenal, Inter/Barca, Liverpool on Wednesday. And all without having to put my shoes in a gray bin or show my passport. Simply amazing.

 * Meanwhile...Stateside...Is it just me or is David Beckham's lack of respect for fellow MLS players clear to see? This past weekend, Beckham went Sprewell on Daniel Hernandez, nearly choking out the FC Dallas player in what ended in an ugly 6-3 Galaxy loss. Funny how I never saw him do that in Manchester, Madrid or Milan.

  
**Finally a story about a lucky (Westmont) hat. Many of you, like myself, spent this past weekend canvassing California (and other locales) carting your soccer kids and WAGs (wives and girlfriends) around to soccer games. I spent my Saturday in Valencia and in the SF Valley at the opening weekend of matches for my kids' club Real So Cal. Happy to say, it was a winning start all around!

 I am not a hat guy, except for golfing or Hollywood premiers. However, back in August, I was driving down to my daughter Sydney's soccer tournament semifinal game in Cypress with my son after his basketball game in Woodland Hills. About 20 minutes before we arrived and as the game was just getting underway, I was compelled for some random reason to put on my hat that was lying in the empty passenger seat. Not a minute later, my phone buzzes and my wife sends me a text to let me know Sydney had scored the first goal of the game (and her first for her club). Coincidence?! Not likely. I have no doubt that as I put on the Westmont hat, Sydney fired a low left-footed shot past the GK. And then days later my suspicions were confirmed, as I scanned some pictures I came across one of my daughter's championship photos from a tournament earlier this summer. And there I was in the team picture, resplendent in the same Westmont hat.

 Coincidence? I think not.

 Silly? Perhaps...

 Magical? Most definitely!

 Go Warriors!

  
AH

One of the things I enjoyed most about our father/son training camp weekend was hearing stories from alums about how we all ended up at Westmont.  I love this story and it comes from one of my all-time favorite warrior teammates.  Enjoy...

Mine was not your conventional Westmont arrival, at least not my knowledge. I had just spent the previous year roofing houses and hitting night classes at the local junior college trying to increase my standing as a student. Eight hours roofing followed by three hours of class and subsequent studies had me 90% worn out and 10% hopeful. Eventually I went to my old club coach, Roger Wyett, with my dilemma. I could not stay in Orange County. I would not settle for life as a roofer. I needed his help desperately. Wyett obliged. The first of many an unselfish act that would alter the course of my life.

When my parents dropped me off at Kerrwood Hall my teeth had just been wired together after having taken a bottle across the mouth and my girlfriend of 10 months was 7 months pregnant (a fact that I would keep from all through my Junior year). Again, to my knowledge, not your conventional Westmont arrival.

Throughout my life, my coaches had always seen something in me that I had a hard time seeing in myself. Bob Fortosis was no exception; perhaps he was even the rule. My folks dropped me with Bob at his apartment a few weeks before training camp to coach at the Warrior soccer camp. If I knew then what I know now I would have stopped to really take it in. While I had an awareness that my life was about to change, I had no idea the magnitude of what that moment truly meant. It was indeed a fork in the road. It would be the source of most things great in my life. The emergence of my relationship with Bob, the advent of my deepest and most enduring friendships and the day I developed a fractional understanding of life as a man. It was the beginning of my life as a Westmont Warrior

I trudged along through my first year. Adjusting to life as a semi-academic, a new role for me. I was behind a senior Captain on the depth chart and had to endure the frustration of limited game time and a fair amount of competitive pride swallowed. That first year was touch and go. I was sent off of the practice field 4 times for a host of reasons. The third time Bob sent me to the locker room I remember sitting and thinking I could just leave. I could clean out my locker, pack my things from Armington and be on the road back to Huntington Beach by evening. I thought about Bob, my Mom, Roger, Shayne, Richie, everyone I would be letting down, in particular my Pops. It was in that moment that I truly committed to becoming something beyond even my own expectations. Some exceptional people had given me a rare opportunity; I was going to get everything out of it that I possibly could.

Over the next 4 years we experienced a significant amount of success on the field. Of course, it is the losses that I remember most. Phil Michelson once summed it up for me when he said he hates to lose more than he loves to win. Off the field was where the changes were really taking place. Life in Huntington Beach, aside from my beautiful daughter Brittni, became further removed from who I was. The friendships forged and the trust bestowed on me facilitated the transition from child to adult. A lot of questions were asked of me – particularly around the existence of God – that I’d not previously considered. Slowly I began to participate in Westmont life; Potter’s Clay, Bible studies, Vespers, etc. By my senior year I was Captain and had established a deeply unique relationship with my teammates and coach (who is still one of my most cherished friends and influential mentors). It was a fascinating time and remains one of the richest eras of my life.

When I married, it was my former Warrior teammates who stood up for me. When my folks both died those same teammates stood beside me in pure sadness, allowing me to be however I needed to be. Then they picked me up and walked me along to the other side. Punks (Mike Walker) is godfather to my son and me to his. I still play with many of the boys. We’re old. We’re still good (grin).

One of my first jobs out of college was working for Soccer America. I think a total of 4 former players made their way through that magazine. When asked why so many Westmont guys? the Editor-in-Chief would respond, "It’s just a good brand".

It really is a good brand. 20 years later and I am grateful.

I am a Westmont Warrior.

Alex Stephens

Over the years, one of the images that has made the most impact on my life is depicted and re-created in this painting by Rob Ring, Koinonia. From the first time saw it in 1992, and *every* time I read the headlines since, I'm reminded by how effective the game has brought the meaning of koinonia to the forefront of my life. I'm amazed on how effective soccer was a platform for preparing me to be a better man, designer, collaborator, husband and friend. I learned a lot from players (always better than me) on how they would come together, win and lose by the same pitch. The book-ends of every game and practice some how contained this ritual of coming together. Hence this image, seared into my mind. Whether I had a great practice, a poor game, or a winning goal... all of that was left on the field. What remained was the ritual of coming together and acknowledging the fact that our time had been spent doing something together.

Every time I see a similar photo since my time playing the game, the gathering of a team means more than a pre-game pep talk or a post-game grilling. In the years that follow soccer, what I've come to realize is how rare those moments have become, and how valuable the foundation of friendship is. I hardly ever get a chance to collectively work towards something so intense, at such a high level of competition, like we did during those 90 minutes... one day at a time. There is rarely a professional moment that competes with the foundation I got, one practice at a time... all season long.

If nothing else, koinonia represents a goal in front of each and every collaboration, creative endeavor or friendship. My respect for what it enables is a gift, just like any long-lasting friend or memory. Koinonia is elusive, rare and hard to replicate. I'm thankful that I can claim my own interpretation of Koinonia, interpreted through paintings, photographs and stories... but much I owe to Westmont Soccer for the platform to have experienced it.