Medalla de Oro

I was in the sports hall, getting ready to give a talk of the utmost importance, both for us and for sport in Guatemala. As I began, I searched for the words that best fit the occasion. My words had to inspire something truly exceptional. They had to magnify the players’ burning desire and light a spark of energy that would set off an extraordinary explosion of spirit. They had to dispel every doubt and raise confidence above any level reached before.

In front of me, watching me with intense eyes, stood the members of Guatemala’s men’s national volleyball team. These were the last moments before the deciding match of the volleyball tournament at the Central American Games, which are held only once every four years. The match about to begin was the last step in the long struggle to become champions for the first time in history. The road we had traveled was long and winding. We had prepared hard for three years. Month after month we had worked with great dedication and sacrifice. Training had been grueling at first, but little by little the players grew used to its extraordinary demands. They persevered because they always kept in view the vision of winning the Central American tournament, receiving the gold medals and lifting the champions’ trophy, honoring Guatemala with their victory.

During the tournament we had won every previous match, playing with excellence. They were long, demanding contests, but we came out victorious in all of them. Only one obstacle remained on the road to our longed-for goal, and it was enormous: the team we were about to face had never lost a match in the entire history of Central American volleyball. Its players had a great advantage in height and strength. They had far more experience than we did in high-level international competition. They were unbeaten and considered themselves unbeatable. Almost everyone else thought the same. Outside our circle, almost no one believed we had any chance of winning.

I had to convince the players that, despite all our disadvantages, they were going to play better at every moment, with more spirit, fight, courage and precision than our rivals, and that they would triumph. I would accept nothing less. They had to win, because losing would mean tearing down all our hopes, our effort, sacrifice, work, dedication and suffering of the last three years. We would fall short of our goal, and that was not acceptable. If we did not win, we would regret for the rest of our lives having let that opportunity slip away. But that was not going to happen. We were going to win.

I began my speech. I spoke with great authority and sincere confidence, because I truly believed in the players. I trusted that they were going to win. I went on with more passion, raising my voice. Soon we were bathed in an atmosphere of emotion and enthusiasm. With every moment the waves of emotion grew. I watched the players “take flight,” almost floating in that atmosphere charged with energy. They were already shouting and chanting for Guatemala’s victory, full of confidence. The moment came to end the talk and send them onto the court.

At that moment I woke up. It was a dream: a precious memory, very much like something that had happened forty years earlier. In the dream, the match against the unbeaten team was the last of the championship; in reality, as you will see, the schedule was different. Almost ten years have passed since that dream, and those memories are still alive in my subconscious. They seem to want to come out and be celebrated again every so often.