A Cathedral of Grit and Joy
To be fair, I didn’t want to write this.
Not because there’s nothing to say but rather because this means the season is over and there’s more in my heart than I could put on a page. And if it’s over that means the war drums are quiet. The music mixed with voices and laughter coming from the locker room is just a memory now. Like incense in the cathedral we all built together.
Grief has a funny way of dressing itself up in team photos on instagram posts. We’re framed in smiles, but beneath the surface, the soul writhes like roots torn from soil. It is a slow, holy ache of something held sacred having passed through you.
And here we are. Each of us moving through the grief of a season ending too soon. If I’ve learned anything this season, it’s that grief is just gratitude in its final form and the only way to honor what has been built is to speak it into permanence.
So this is my best effort.
A heartfelt letter.
A eulogy.
A celebration.
A letter of gratitude to the 2025 Lubbock Matadors. The group that gave more meaning to why I do this work, and what it means when a team transcends into something more.
This season wasn’t just a schedule of games and training sessions. It was a brief time in our lives together where something rare happened. A group of young men didn’t just play together. You became something together.
You bled for each other.
You suffered in the trenches with each other.
You laughed your way through exhaustion.
You fought not just to win, but to hold the standard standing shoulder to shoulder.
You held the sacredness of the game close even when adversity tried to rip it from your grasp.
What happened this summer, what we built, was real.
I stepped into this role wanting to help you unlock clarity, presence, identity and performance. But what you lot gave me in return went far beyond the game. You welcomed me into your world. The full, unfiltered, raw version of it. Not the polished pregame facade, but the actual humanity of it all. The beautiful reality underneath. The side glances. The passion behind your eyes that scream belief without needing words. The quiet momentary grief after a mistake. The hours of invisible work no one sees but everyone feels.
And I’ll never take that for granted.
Some moments will live in the highlight reels. The 10 goal match that felt like a fever dream. Capitan chipping one in from damn near the halfway line with the elegance of a poet. JT hitting every post on a screamer from 20 yards out. Andre coming up clutch with big moments keeping a PK out of the net and denying big shots in big games. Theo, the center back with shades of Ramos and Koeman, crushing West Texas dreams, with two goals in the Conference Championship. One in the final moments with no time on the clock. Ryan dropping dimes through traffic like it was guided by the gods. Adam putting the keeper on skates to seal the Championship in overtime. Jamols rise with the confidence we all had in him from the beginning and getting to celebrate with him when he made putting one in the net look easy. The man himself Zizou moving with the speed and finesse only a frenchman can, slicing through the defense to burn the net down. Headers off of the magical left foot of Tim putting the ball where you needed it to be to have a chance to get one.
But so much of the season wasn’t loud. It was a quiet courage and intangible moments that had little to do with the game but helped us grow into one body.
It was Nico holding down the back line with the calmness of a Saint that most people will never understand. Like still water under lightning.
The pregame warm up circles laughing and giving teammates a loving slap on the back of the neck who can’t keep the ball up off Pablos no look pass.
It was Bili dancing in the locker room, or playing in the rain at training like he was 8 again. Reminding us that joy is a weapon.
It was Ryan whispering perspective when the noise got too loud with his soft, sultry, sage wisdom that steadied us.
It was the boys on the back line being spine of the team every time they stepped on the pitch. The unspoken confidence we all had in them when the battle raged.
It was JT leading by being the embodiment of what it looks like to play holding the standard, every single time, without ever needing to say it.
It was hearing Andre’s voice morph into that of an Englishman when he was screaming commands to the team from the opposite end.
It was Pablito laying the opposition out in the first 10 seconds of a match, not out of malice, but as a declaration “We’re not here to play nice. We’re here to let everyone know this is our damn field.” And watching that solidify a shift in our collective culture.
It was the Triplets arriving late, just when we needed a new breath, like a breeze that cleared the air and let us smile again. Their timing wasn’t late. It was perfect.
It was hearing “Let’s be sharp lads!” from Theo more times than we could count in training sessions.
It was watching Bryce and Pascoe grind all summer for their moment that would come at just the right time when we needed it most. Teaching us that dedication to the process is what this game demands and they were it in the flesh.
It was the thousands of dap ups over the summer.
It was hearing Diego make his best attempt to trash talk at the end of training when it was time to take pens.
It was having Zaaron and Ed with us on the pitch striving everyday to make us better. Taking on a role most wouldn’t want but they stepped into fully.
It was in Cata and the keepers sending balls over the fence in training and claiming they didn’t when we can’t find a few at the end of training.
It was in Jake’s humor that kept us light and his knowledge of the game when we needed insight because we’ll have a look.
It was in the wisdom from Robbie we needed at just the right time. Like he knew exactly what to say and when to say it in as few words as possible.
It was in Dave working tirelessly to push you forward because he could see a depth of possibilities in you before you felt it yourself.
It was in Nate the great being the best kit man there everyday doing more than one man could do.
It was in the locker room after a win seeing Olly dance in a way only Olly can.
It was waiting the hear Alex say, “Puta madre” shrugging his shoulder and raising his palms to the heavens and the smile that brought to us. A lightness in the moment given as a gift.
It was in the echos of Kobe and Jona saying “wagwan general” and waiting to hear them laugh like they were 10.
It was in the times feeling gutted after a loss and sitting in the suffering together because we all wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
It was the way Duvan carried the locker room like an older brother who’s been through the fire and came back to walk with you through yours.
It was taking over hotel fitness rooms so you could all have time with the magic only Dr. Barker can bring to keep you healthy. Waiting on your turn, laughing, sharing stories of fun nights out, tattoo ideas in random languages, photos on bicycles and seeing video of 21 year olds walking around like they’re 80 because standing upright was the worst decision to make in the moment.
It was in the mindset sessions. Hearing stories, honest feedback, the struggles of being elite and how it all reminded me of the courage it takes to speak with such transparency because pursuing growth takes more than effort on the pitch. It requires honesty with yourself and those you care about most.
It was the nods, the winks, the worlds greatest stretch and countless other moments I will be reminded of years down the line when someone does something that sparks the memory and suddenly I’m back in Lubbock with you boys in 2025 in an instant..
These moments don’t make the stat sheet, but they make the team.
And this team was built different. It has a soul that I saw breathe joy and fire.
The truth is, the conflicts that arose, like in any team, were rarely about tactics. They were about identity. About pressure. About learning how to show up when nothings guaranteed. How to trust yourself and play with freedom even when everything is on the line. How to love the game and the lads at your side, not for what it gives us but for what it reveals in us.
I watched you step more into yourselves. I watched you bend, adapt, break, fight, fall and pull each other back up when most would have stayed down. I watched you move from trying to prove something in May to simply become who you already were.
Thats not mental performance. That’s alchemy in the real time.
We started the playoffs with a message, “Why not us?”
But somewhere along the journey we realized why it was us.
We knew it was us because of how we trained, how we recovered, how we held each other accountable without letting ego tear apart the family. Being on the road in playoffs with 4 games in 10 days, traveling thousands of miles, the sleepless nights, predawn flights, broken hands, swollen ankles, battered legs, and all the while, the hunger never wavered. Because you didn’t play for the applause or the cameras. You played for each other.
And though we fell in the Elite 8, let’s not get it twisted, we did not fail.
We finished this season with more than a trophy.
We set a new standard for the club moving forward. You are the standard bearers. It’s not only a standard of how deep we go in playoffs but what it looks like to play for the holiness of this beautiful game. How you step into being yourself fully. How you show up in training. How you set the tone in the match. How you sit with your teammates in both celebration and grief.
We finished this season with a truth no one can take from our hands.
That when grit meets joy...
when standards meet soul...
when pressure meets presence...
You become unshakeable. This is something you will carry with you into what’s next.
To every player.
You are not just a kit number or a position on a pitch. You are the walking, breathing testament to what this game can mean when it’s done with love, pain, depth and purpose.
You gave everything. And you left a mark on me I’ll carry forever.
I’m better because of all of you.
Thank you for letting me walk beside you.
Always.
— Rustin