SAN JOSE PINULA, Guatemala — On fourth down, Hans Mansilla rolled right, then heaved the football deep. Moments earlier, Anthony Velasquez had been lying on his back on the sidelines, both legs in the air, a teammate trying to help stretch out cramps in both of his calves. Now Velasquez was running downfield near the other sideline, watching the ball’s flight in the gathering dusk — and for at least an instant, doubting his ability.

“I didn’t think I was gonna have the gas to win the game,” Velasquez said moments later, through an interpreter. “But when I saw that ball coming, I said, ‘This is my ball.’ ”

Velasquez’s catch gave the Toros a 12-6 win in doble tiempo extra — the second overtime — and the eruption that followed was familiar in any language. As the Bulldogs trudged away, the jubilant winners spilled onto the field, all high-fives and hugs and yells: “Vamos Toros!”

This is American football in Guatemala, a different yet very similar game. The Toros and Bulldogs are part of the Asociación de Guatemalteca de Fútbol Americano (Guatemalan American Football Association). It sponsors various football instruction and several flag football leagues. But on Saturdays from May through August, AGFA features full-contact football. The six-team Liga AGFA resembles semipro football in the United States — if it was played almost exclusively by novices.

“Sometimes they don’t have any idea of how to play,” said Diego Morales, the president of the AGFA. “But they have the enthusiasm to play.”

***

As in so many other places, Guatemala’s most popular sport is soccer — fútbol. Football, American-style, registers as barely a blip. It’s a relative newcomer.

Although there was a team that played at least one game in 1978, those affiliated with American football in Guatemala trace its establishment in the country to 2000, when an American essentially appeared out of nowhere. Tom Kelly brought 30 sets of helmets and pads and taught the rules and fundamentals of the game — or at least, as much as could be taught in a few sessions at Universidad Rafael Landivar. A salesman by trade, Kelly, from Indiana, describes himself as “a mad linebacker,” saying his college career at St. Joseph’s College in Rensselaer, Ind., was cut short by injury and might have fueled a desire to introduce football to other countries.

His presentation was only an introduction — “They either drop the sport or the find a way to keep it going themselves,” Kelly said — but in Guatemala they kept it going. His brief visit piqued the interest of Morales, then a university student, and of Marco Antonio Cobar, who was 26 and had completed his studies but had been a football fan since watching the 1985 Chicago Bears.

Together, Cobar and Morales have been instrumental in the gradual growth of the sport, which was at first keyed toward irregular one-off games against teams from other Central American countries. The full-contact league began several years ago with six-man football, progressed to nine-player and then, finally, to 11 — or football “the right way,” as Morales put it.

“We’re very near high-school football level,” said Cobar, a civil engineer who is the vice president of the AGFA, referring to the level of play. “But we’re still underneath it if we compare it to the U.S. We have improved slowly but steadily.”

The league’s six teams are based in or near Guatemala City. From May through August, when the league championship (the Mayan Bowl) will be played, they play games back-to-back-to-back each Saturday at Gatorade Arena, a new facility with artificial turf. A multipurpose building beyond one end zone houses locker rooms, offices and a covered club area for spectators, where vuvuzelas compete with piped-in music. Banners surrounding the field include advertisements for FOX Sports, Pepsi and Gatorade; the games are broadcast via Facebook Live.

“They’re feeling professional,” said Miguel Monterroso, the general manager of Gatorade Arena. “That may be the first step. They’re believing in what they’re doing.”

***

A.J. Westendorp, a 26-year-old American who coaches the Toros, doesn’t disagree. He played quarterback and tight end at Central Michigan University. When he and his wife Alaina moved to Guatemala City in 2015 to serve as Christian missionaries, he planned to use soccer as a vehicle to work with kids. He didn’t envision finding any football — or know what to expect when he did.

“I figured it wasn’t gonna pop up in Guatemala,” he said. “I didn’t look for it and wasn’t really focused on it.”

But at church he met Josue Godoy. They hit it off in part because they’re both Green Bay Packers fans. Godoy is in his fifth year playing on the offensive and defensive lines for the Toros. When he learned of Westendorp’s background, he invited Westendorp to watch them practice.

“Thank God, he ended up being our coach,” Godoy said — and it was almost that simple.

Now Westendorp teaches football’s fundamentals and installs very basic sets. He likens the level to what you’d see at a ninth-grade or high-school junior varsity game. He sees coaching the Toros as a way to build relationships with a group from diverse backgrounds (the roster includes a 17-year-old who recently dropped out of school, a 35-year-old attorney and almost every age and occupation between).

“My motive,” he said, “is to invest in the guys, love the guys, show the guys who God is, and what it means to be a part of a brotherhood. … Just having a window of trust into these guys’ lives.”

Players pay 300 quetzales — about $40 — in league fees, not including the costs for uniforms and gear. To offset costs for those who couldn’t afford it, the Toros held fundraisers including car washes and clothing sales. Some equipment was donated. Some teams’ jerseys are sponsored by local businesses.

Other teams’ rosters have similar makeups.

“That’s been probably our biggest quality,” said Cobar, who is also the defensive coordinator for the league’s Dragones. “This is where I’ve really seen people from different social or economic backgrounds get together, and that’s what football is to me.”

***

Velasquez, 27, who caught the winning touchdown pass in double overtime, drives a taxi. Like virtually everyone else here on this Saturday in June, he grew up playing futbol — soccer. But there was something intriguing about the other football, the American version. He found the Toros on Facebook.

“Football is a contact sport,” Velasquez said. “I love playing that kind of sport.”

And he adds: “My friends think I’m a crazy man — muy loco — for doing it.”

Mansilla, the Toros’ quarterback, was born in Guatemala but was adopted by an U.S. family and grew up in California, where he played both high school and semipro football. After returning to Guatemala as an adult, he saw some guys tossing the football around in a park, started practicing with them and it went from there.

He found a new position, too. Mansilla had always played linebacker. He had never played quarterback. But he’s now among the best in the league.

“There’s not really a lot of ways to develop QBs,” Mansilla said. “At least I knew I had an arm, so I started playing quarterback. It’s worked out pretty good.”

Although several other Americans have played in the league, they’re the exceptions. Julio Gramajo, who grew up in California and played defensive line at Western New Mexico University, played for a couple of years with the Antigua Rhinos. He was already in his 40s, but said he was able to compete with younger opponents because of his knowledge of technique.

“There are people out there with athletic ability,” he said. “But what happens is the little things that count, the fundamentals, reading offenses and defense, those little things are actually what they’re missing.”

Many of the players are graceful and light on their feet, a probable byproduct of all those years playing soccer. But especially when carrying the football, few run downhill or explode into contact. Paul Rains, a high school coach from Kentucky who conducted a camp here a year ago, said the average Guatemalan player reminded him of when a basketball player comes out for football.

“They just don’t have that real aggressive mentality,” he said.

Added Westendorp: “The guys that have football instincts have them from playing in the States. Or they base their moves off what they use in Madden or what they see on TV. It’s a tough thing to teach.”

***

Some of that is changing, especially among the younger players who have participated in football academies. Morales operates Touchdown Academy, teaching kids aged 9-18. The oldest of his students now play with the adults, for the Dragones — who sit atop the current standings.

Cobar once coached a precocious teenager who wanted to play football more than anything. David Giron was talented enough that Cobar let him play with adults in a game against a Honduran team. Giron, a running back/receiver, Giron later played two years of high school football in Texas, walked on and then earned a scholarship at Western Carolina and now plays for the Frankfurt Universe in the German Football League.

“People in Guatemala thought I was crazy,” said Giron, who had played soccer in Guatemala’s national system. “ ‘How can you like a sport that nobody plays?’ You’re little. What makes you think you can play football? But from the beginning, I just loved the game.

“The path I took to play football in the U.S. was basically a blessing,” Giron continued. “The resources in Guatemala are few. It’s getting better with the teams and the (adult) league. The problem is the weight training, the food and the nutrition. Everything I learned in the U.S., we didn’t have it in Guatemala. It’s years apart.”

But for most players, who started playing football as adults, it’s hard to even begin to catch up. Practices are conducted on soccer fields, basketball courts, grassy spaces in parks — whenever they can find room. Most teams practice only twice a week, with whoever shows up.

With the Toros, Wednesday evening is for conditioning, working on technique and running plays. Friday means no pads, essentially a walk-through review on the eve of a game. Although the Toros have 37 players, their practices might include only a dozen.

“The hardest thing is getting a high percentage of the players there,” said Westendorp — and he’s echoed by those affiliated with other teams in the league. “The hardest thing for football is practicing with half your team there. And then Saturday the other half (of the roster) comes and they didn’t hear what you worked on Wednesday.”

Gramajo said it was the same when he played for the Rhinos.

“Everybody is either going to school or they’re working, so practice is not really a practice,” he said. “It’s just looking over the play once or twice, if at all.”

That’s not unusual, according to Cobar.

“If an American came out to one of our practices, he would go nuts: ‘What the hell is going on here?’ We’ll have eight people at practice, but we’re used to working with what we have.”

Westendorp acknowledges it can be frustrating but said he understands.

“These are guys that have lives and families and jobs,” Westendorp said. “And in Guatemala City, if you get stuck in traffic, it’s over.”

***

Games pose a different logistical issue. Though Gatorade Arena’s location on the outskirts of this town is less than 15 miles from the center of Guatemala City, it’s at least a 40-minute drive through winding hills. Regular traffic snarls can make it a much longer drive.

One Toros player regularly arrives on a motorcycle, his shoulder pads and helmet and uniform stuffed into a bag behind him. Velasquez drives his taxi. Several carpool. Only 11 players were in the locker room as kickoff approached on a Saturday last month. Held up by traffic, four more players arrived shortly before kickoff, and then a few more as the game began.

And though mistakes are to be expected given players’ lack of experience and practice time, they’re clearly not the only novices. Penalty flags flew on seemingly every other play. The AGFA pays its nine officials 100 quetzales per game. With three games each Saturday, that translates to about a $40 payday. The officials have undergone some training, they’re not exactly experts.

“Four of the actual referees know something about the sport,” Cobar said. “The other five, it’s their first season. … I stole them from basketball and other sports.”

Long-term, the growth of football in Guatemala depends on whether the sport can steal players from other sports that have traditionally captured the nation’s interest. And that might depend on official recognition by the government of Guatemala, which would provide funding and support.

Morales and Cobar say they have submitted applications several times to the Confederación Deportiva Autónoma de Guatemala (CDAG), but without success. In a text message, a representative of the CDAG asked USA TODAY to submit questions via email, then did not respond.

“We’ve tried everything we can imagine to introduce this sport to our culture,” Cobar said. “But it’s a very difficult sport to learn, a very difficult sport to teach and a very expensive sport to practice and play. We don’t have the best athletes in Guatemala, but that’s what we’re trying to attract.”

Morales said football has already attracted “people that have the guts to play the game.”

“The kind of players we have is the tough ones,” he said, “the ones that want to challenge themselves and do more than soccer, more than basketball, more than tennis. That’s the kind of people we have in football. It’s pretty cool, because they sacrifice a lot of time with their families and even money to play the game.”

The rewards? At least for the Toros, those were evident last month after that win in doble tiempo extra. In a tight huddle on the sidelines, they thrust their helmets into the air. Godoy led them in a cheer:

“Quiénes somos?”

“Toros!”

“Quiénes somos?”

“Toros!”

“Quiénes somos?”

“Toros!”

Nothing was lost in translation.