Colombian midfielder perseveres with Real Salt Lake

Jeffrey Martin | USA TODAY Sports

He earns his living in Utah but hails from Medellin, Colombia, a city Time magazine once labeled "the most dangerous city in the world."

Sebastian Velasquez insists his hairstyle - best described as a spiked mullet with a rat tail, sometimes with colors sprinkled in - wouldn't draw a second glance in his homeland. But in this country, specifically picturesque but conservative Salt Lake City, where he's a midfielder for Major League Soccer's Real Salt Lake?

His look is an oft-discussed topic, although his play entering Sunday's second leg of the Western Conference finals against the Portland Timbers is quickly gaining ground. RSL holds a two-goal advantage.

"Some people like my hair, some people think it's the worst thing they've ever seen," Velasquez said. "For me, it just reminds me of home, of the people I know, reminds me of the person I am and how everyone knows this is me, how I've always been."

If Velasquez doesn't sound big on change, it's likely because he's dealt with more than his share of adversity at 22 years old.

It began when he moved with his mother to Greenville, S.C., when he was 3 to reconcile with a biological father who wanted nothing to do with them. Then, it was learning of the fatal stabbing of his uncle, a standout soccer player in Colombia and a role model. Later, it was dropping out of high school to try out for a top team in Barcelona only to be rejected not once, but twice.

Finally, it was at 17 helping his mother deal with her severe depression. He recalls telling his mother, who still had two sisters and several relatives back in Colombia, to do what was best for her.

"I told her to go back," he said. "She always talked about wanting to go back, but she wanted to wait to see what my future looked like."

It was murky, at best. And he almost joined her back in Colombia, too, in December 2011, fearful of what might occur. Kicked out of Spartanburg Methodist College, a junior college in South Carolina where he scored 55 goals in two seasons, and essentially deemed ineligible for Division I because of his tryouts overseas, his options were nearly exhausted.

But if there has been a constant through the turmoil, it has been soccer, his beloved "football." It's been a beacon, providing a nudge while revealing something almost endearing about Velasquez.

So said Real Salt Lake general manager Garth Lagerwey.

"The kid had some bad luck," he said. "He trusted the wrong people… He'd been in situations that a lot of us can empathize with and he didn't get great advice. When you come from greater socio-economic means or when you've been in the U.S. for a couple of generations, you might get better advice than Sebastian had access to."

Days before Velasquez was scheduled to fly back to Medellin, Real Salt Lake invited him to the team's annual college combine in preparation for MLS SuperDraft. RSL assistant coach Miles Joseph is friendly with Clemson coach Mike Noonan, who was recruiting Velasquez. When it became clear Velasquez's college career was finished, Noonan reached out to Joseph to gauge his interest.

On tape, the 5-foot-11 midfielder's talent was undeniable. But Joseph wasn't totally sold until after speaking with him on the phone.

"You could tell this was a huge opportunity for him," Joseph said. "From the beginning, he always said, 'I won't let you down - all I need is one chance.' Those were the words he used when I first talked to him."

In Colombia, Velasquez monitored the draft online, hitting "refresh" on his computer's browser every few minutes to update each selection. By the time Real Salt Lake selected him at 36, his mother had left her nearby perch, overcome with nerves.

Soon afterwards, tears began to flow. He didn't have to worry about "being in the wrong situations."

He found comfort in Utah, where Velasquez said the mountains actually remind him of Medellin.

Fittingly, Real Salt Lake envisions its organization as a family, the sum being more valuable than any of the parts. All of the members of the coaching staff have played at least five years in MLS, and that's not including Lagerwey, a former goalkeeper with five years in the MLS as well.

It's a player-centric outfit steered by former players.

"We try to identify not just good players, but good characters," Lagerwey said. "Not for any philanthropic sense, but we think that's what helps us win. Our mantra is: 'The team is the star.'… We find that if we have kids like Sebastian who have overcome some stuff and maybe realize that you need a group to get ahead in life, that can be advantageous in terms of building our locker room and our psyche."

He continued.

"I think Sebastian is a marvelous kid who has worked very, very hard to get where he is and now he's getting an opportunity he's been fighting for for two years. It's a really good message to the rest of the team - if you persevere and stick with it, you never know when your moment is going to be, when your chance will come."

Velasquez produced in the Western Conference semifinals Nov. 8 against the L.A.Galaxy. A year and a half earlier, he made his MLS debut against the same team. But this time, earlier this month, he scored his first goal, helping propel RSL into the conference finals against the Timbers.

This is what starting midfielder Javier Morales said he and his RSL teammates see all of the time during training.

"I think he's a special player," he said. "It's time for him to start showing everyone the kind of player he is. He can be great."

To commemorate the goal, Velasquez got a tattoo - of the ball, the net and the fans in the background - on his back. Contrary to belief, though, he does not intend to cover his body with ink every time he scores.

"I'd hope my body would be filled with tattoos, if that was the case," Velasquez said.

As his teammates will attest, it's all become part of the package.

"He likes to get attention, you know? I tried to cut his hair a couple of times, but it's his personality," Morales said. "He loves it."

Because it reminds Velasquez of where he's from, of where he'll inevitably return for good one day. It's a weird dynamic - the poverty in the "barrio" is so oppressive, he said, it's not unusual to routinely witness crime. Wages are so low, he said, his mother, who sews for a living, makes $150 per month. He sends money, but not too much because those who are perceived as well to do are often then portrayed as targets.

Yet, it's also home.

"I'm not talking bad about my country - I love it," he said. "But people don't understand. Football actually saved my life. I'd be in that life… Just to survive, you do whatever you have to do."