Witnessing someone develop into the person they have always envisioned themselves to be is subtly amazing. Not in a cinematic sense. Not in the manner of a podium speech. Just in the typical, unyielding, patient manner that real life occasionally permits—when the circumstances coincide and the individual in question refuses to blink first.
For Kansas City, that person is Matt Besler.
Besler was the type of child who, depending on the season, participated in every sport while growing up in Overland Park. Baseball in the spring, basketball in the winter, and soccer in the fall. As a result, his dreams changed. One image, however, remained constant: Besler and his brothers ran laps around the house while posing as Michael Jordan, while his father dimmed the lights in their living room and performed the pregame announcements by memory. It sounds insignificant. It wasn’t. Something seems to be planted in those moments.
As a young child, he watched the Kansas City Attack at Kemper Arena and was drawn to the left-footed players because that was how he played as well. The Besler family later sat around the living room trying to come up with a name for the team while Major League Soccer was still struggling and Kansas City was about to get its own team. The Kansas City Canons were turned in. The Wiz prevailed. Besler, then nine years old, attended the team’s inaugural game at Arrowhead Stadium in the stands. He would later spend twelve seasons playing for the same team, but under a different name and in a different era.
This type of arc seems too tidy to be real. However, this doesn’t require any embellishment. Besler didn’t even anticipate being selected by the Kansas City Wizards, who selected him eighth overall in the 2009 MLS SuperDraft. A representative from the New York Red Bulls had informed him the previous evening that they intended to select him with their first pick. He anticipated New York when he arrived at the draft. If you know anything about Besler’s story, the only conclusion that truly makes sense is that he left with Kansas City.
It’s not just the destination that makes his journey worth sharing. Nobody talks much about the decisions made along the way. After his freshman year at Notre Dame, he made the unglamorous transition from midfielder to central defender. It was a useful one. His coach informed him that his vision for the game was a good fit for the open position. Besler didn’t require much persuasion. Knowing when to listen and when to adjust is a form of self-awareness that is less common than natural talent and usually lasts longer.
It’s also worthwhile to have a more comprehensive discussion here. Athletes from Kansas City have succeeded, nearly succeeded, and burned out before anyone saw the fire. The documentary “Not Good Enough,” which was shot in the metropolitan area, examined firsthand what happens when young athletes experience more pressure than support. By the age of 13, about 70% of kids stop participating in organized sports. That figure is worthy of more than a footnote. It implies that for every Besler who successfully navigates the challenges of youth sports, familial expectations, and self-doubt, dozens quietly give up.
Besler survived. The thing that usually sticks with people in this city is that he also made it home. In professional sports, it’s uncommon to play for your hometown team for more than ten years. It usually pays better to move on. Staying is a completely different matter.
Seeing careers like his develop gives one the impression that the announcements in the living room and the stadium memories from childhood are more than just sentimental details. They are capable of carrying loads. They provide an explanation for why some athletes play for reasons other than contract rewards or coach directives. Before Kansas City had many reasons to believe in Besler, they did. For twelve years, he repaid the favor.
