I will never get tired of this feeling
Real coaching, true, immersive, soul-level coaching, is one of the most rewarding experiences I’ve ever had outside of my own family. Most people in this space will never truly understand it. They’ll never understand the obsession because they’ve never understood the why that drives it.
This morning, I’m standing on the sidelines at Ciudad Real Madrid watching @Ryanne, a player I’ve been blessed to train and develop since she was six, compete in the MAD Cup. She’s playing a year up, for a Japanese team, inside the grounds of Real Madrid’s own city. In every game so far, she’s been the most dominant player on the field. Period.
Since arriving in Spain, she’s been invited to join the 2012 Superliga All-Star team, a boys team, competing in the Donosti Cup. That team pulls top players from Leganés, Getafe, Atlético, and Real Madrid. For a girl to be offered that is unheard of. That’s the level she’s playing at right now.
Yesterday, she sombrero’d an opponent, received the ball on the outside of her foot, and backheeled an assist to a teammate. She stood—literally stood—on the ball, scored multiple goals, and celebrated each one like Neymar. It was joyful, unapologetic brilliance. And it was real.
Meanwhile, back in North Texas, it’s signing season. The usual chaos is unfolding. Players are jumping clubs, parents are navigating pressure, and loyalty seems to run about as deep as the latest promise made in a meeting. Coaches, many of them salesmen with whistles, are influencing major decisions. Parents, overwhelmed and unsure, are treating those decisions like lifeboats.
I’m not diminishing their intentions. I know it feels heavy. But too many are making poorly informed choices. Choices that trade years of careful development for a hunch or a headline. And what they’re missing is enormous.
They could be on a different trajectory. One that looks like this. They could be watching their daughter play on a professional stage in Spain, just like Ryanne. Or like the five other Alpha players competing in this exact tournament in Madrid, right now.
Instead, they opted out. They said no to the long road. Maybe they didn’t understand what they were saying no to. Or maybe someone sold them a shortcut.
This is the real thing.
Forms Academy’s methodology is mine. The thought process, the structure, the science behind the progression—that’s mine. But what the players become is a shared product of trust, commitment, and long-term belief in one pursuit. It happens when families resist the noise and reject the seduction of convenience. It reminds me of that quote: “How much did they pay you to give up on your dreams?”
This move to Spain was never about comfort. It was about expansion. Expansion of ideas. Expansion of our methodology. Expansion of what’s possible in youth development.
Watching that expansion play out through one little girl who is becoming a giant of a player is something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to describe in words that do it justice.
So I’ll leave it at that.
-Ron