08-10-2023, 12:31 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-11-2023, 10:26 AM by lemonoppy. Edited 1 time in total.)
“With their sixth overall selection, the Tijuana Luchadores select Trent Thigpen, defensive tackle out of the University of Wisconsin''. Before the sentence was even finished, my family and friends erupted around me. I knew teams were interested, but I had chosen to stay home with my family because I never thought in a million years I could be a first round pick in the DSFL draft. I couldn’t even hear my own thoughts through the shrill screams piercing my ears as I felt my dad’s strong arm wrapping around my neck to pull me into a tight hug; though I was barely able to make out my dad whispering in my ear “The work starts now”.
He couldn’t have been more correct when he said that, as the next morning I was on a flight out to Tijuana to get oriented with my new home and begin training for camp and preseason. The whirlwind of change was overwhelming. Having lived in Wisconsin for my entire life to now suddenly living in a new country with a new language would be a major adjustment, while at the same time needing to adjust to the life of a DSFL player. I wasn’t sure I would be able to handle it, but luckily the Luchadores were prepared for this sort of thing.
They have an entire complex of condos right next to the team facilities, and each rookie is paired with another in one of those condos, giving us the opportunity to immediately get to know each other. Of course my roommate is our other rookie DT, Lod Vilkshelm. Within minutes of getting to know each other we were already hyping each other up on how we were going to tear the other team’s offensive lines to shreds.
Spanish 101 classes started day one, but we also have local guides available who can help take us anywhere we need and translate as needed. Within just a few days I realized that despite being in such an unfamiliar place, the Luchadores had already done everything they needed to provide the proper structure to allow their players to simply focus on the work of being a professional football player. Furthermore, I felt that there was an immediate bond between all of us new draftees as we were all in the same boat of being in a new place and feeling unsure of ourselves. You could also see the knowing looks from the vets on the team as they saw us walk in on the first day of camp with our eyes wide as the moon.
“Welcome to Tijuana, and congratulations on being Luchadores!” were the first words to our draft class from our GM swoosh. “You may be new to Mexico, but I know you will all feel the same warm embrace from our Tijuana community that I have and I believe soon enough Mexico will feel like home for all of you. Even you Trent, I hope I didn’t make a mistake looking past your pre-draft team ranking comment that ‘I can't handle spicy food and the sight of one jalapeno would send me flying back to Wisconsin to eat cheese curds on white bread’”.
I laughed and appreciated the candor but at the same time was praying the maid who helped clean our condo didn’t tell him about the dozens of loaves of white bread and pounds of cheese curds I had brought in my luggage. I may need to get used to spicy food, but lord help me if I was going to give up my cheese curds.
Soon after that we were on the football field, and everything extraneous melted away as we got to work in training camp. I kept hearing my dad’s voice whispering “the work starts now” as I tried to keep my head down and prove I was worthy of a first round pick through my work ethic alone. DSFL camp was nothing like college practices. While the coaches treated us with more respect, there was also a much higher standard of expectation and the brutal heat of the Tijuana summer was pushing me to my limits. I honestly think the only thing that got me through it was the fact I wasn’t going through it alone. Lod Vilkshelm and I were quickly becoming best friends, as I taught him about the beauty of the cheese curd and as he taught me the secret power that comes with having the long blonde flowing hair of a viking. Everyday after practice we would continue to rep hand fighting drills or punch and evade drills until the sun set. Then we would lower our bruised and battered bodies into ice baths before heading back to our condo to binge watch our current Netflix addiction and munch on cheese curds. Misery loves company, and I am sure I wouldn’t have been able to make it through camp without Lod by my side.
But just like that camp was over, I had been in Tijuana for a couple weeks and already started to feel more comfortable headed out to a supermarket or cafe on my own. Don’t get me wrong, I still didn’t really know any Spanish and was generally making a fool of myself - but I was comfortable looking and sounding like a fool. The people were friendly and patient with me, and showed me so much love as Luchadore fans were seemingly everywhere I went. The first time I saw a Thigpen jersey on the street I thought I must be hallucinating, but somehow it was a real Trent Thigpen jersey - I was so excited I ran over to offer to autograph the jersey before I realized I had no pen and no way to communicate what I wanted to do. Still the fan turned towards me, looked me up and down and then screamed “TREEENNTTOOOO”. That was the first time I heard someone yell my name like that, but I did not want it to be the last.
While it was all almost too much to believe, I think it finally registered on me as fully real when I suited up for my first preseason game. Lod and I were standing next to each other in the tunnel, as our lockers were right next to each other and we walked out together. He looked at me, I looked at him, and without a word we communicated everything we were thinking. The stadium was filled and the energy was electric, for a second I forgot it was only preseason. As I took my first steps out on that field, proudly donning the Luchadore logo on my chest - I knew I had found my new home.
He couldn’t have been more correct when he said that, as the next morning I was on a flight out to Tijuana to get oriented with my new home and begin training for camp and preseason. The whirlwind of change was overwhelming. Having lived in Wisconsin for my entire life to now suddenly living in a new country with a new language would be a major adjustment, while at the same time needing to adjust to the life of a DSFL player. I wasn’t sure I would be able to handle it, but luckily the Luchadores were prepared for this sort of thing.
They have an entire complex of condos right next to the team facilities, and each rookie is paired with another in one of those condos, giving us the opportunity to immediately get to know each other. Of course my roommate is our other rookie DT, Lod Vilkshelm. Within minutes of getting to know each other we were already hyping each other up on how we were going to tear the other team’s offensive lines to shreds.
Spanish 101 classes started day one, but we also have local guides available who can help take us anywhere we need and translate as needed. Within just a few days I realized that despite being in such an unfamiliar place, the Luchadores had already done everything they needed to provide the proper structure to allow their players to simply focus on the work of being a professional football player. Furthermore, I felt that there was an immediate bond between all of us new draftees as we were all in the same boat of being in a new place and feeling unsure of ourselves. You could also see the knowing looks from the vets on the team as they saw us walk in on the first day of camp with our eyes wide as the moon.
“Welcome to Tijuana, and congratulations on being Luchadores!” were the first words to our draft class from our GM swoosh. “You may be new to Mexico, but I know you will all feel the same warm embrace from our Tijuana community that I have and I believe soon enough Mexico will feel like home for all of you. Even you Trent, I hope I didn’t make a mistake looking past your pre-draft team ranking comment that ‘I can't handle spicy food and the sight of one jalapeno would send me flying back to Wisconsin to eat cheese curds on white bread’”.
I laughed and appreciated the candor but at the same time was praying the maid who helped clean our condo didn’t tell him about the dozens of loaves of white bread and pounds of cheese curds I had brought in my luggage. I may need to get used to spicy food, but lord help me if I was going to give up my cheese curds.
Soon after that we were on the football field, and everything extraneous melted away as we got to work in training camp. I kept hearing my dad’s voice whispering “the work starts now” as I tried to keep my head down and prove I was worthy of a first round pick through my work ethic alone. DSFL camp was nothing like college practices. While the coaches treated us with more respect, there was also a much higher standard of expectation and the brutal heat of the Tijuana summer was pushing me to my limits. I honestly think the only thing that got me through it was the fact I wasn’t going through it alone. Lod Vilkshelm and I were quickly becoming best friends, as I taught him about the beauty of the cheese curd and as he taught me the secret power that comes with having the long blonde flowing hair of a viking. Everyday after practice we would continue to rep hand fighting drills or punch and evade drills until the sun set. Then we would lower our bruised and battered bodies into ice baths before heading back to our condo to binge watch our current Netflix addiction and munch on cheese curds. Misery loves company, and I am sure I wouldn’t have been able to make it through camp without Lod by my side.
But just like that camp was over, I had been in Tijuana for a couple weeks and already started to feel more comfortable headed out to a supermarket or cafe on my own. Don’t get me wrong, I still didn’t really know any Spanish and was generally making a fool of myself - but I was comfortable looking and sounding like a fool. The people were friendly and patient with me, and showed me so much love as Luchadore fans were seemingly everywhere I went. The first time I saw a Thigpen jersey on the street I thought I must be hallucinating, but somehow it was a real Trent Thigpen jersey - I was so excited I ran over to offer to autograph the jersey before I realized I had no pen and no way to communicate what I wanted to do. Still the fan turned towards me, looked me up and down and then screamed “TREEENNTTOOOO”. That was the first time I heard someone yell my name like that, but I did not want it to be the last.
While it was all almost too much to believe, I think it finally registered on me as fully real when I suited up for my first preseason game. Lod and I were standing next to each other in the tunnel, as our lockers were right next to each other and we walked out together. He looked at me, I looked at him, and without a word we communicated everything we were thinking. The stadium was filled and the energy was electric, for a second I forgot it was only preseason. As I took my first steps out on that field, proudly donning the Luchadore logo on my chest - I knew I had found my new home.