As for me… six months away from the touchline have probably made me a better coach than six months on it would have. I’ve watched an unhealthy amount of South American football, paused more matches than I’d ever admit publicly, finished my National A Licence and started the Continental C. The badges matter because they give me a little more responsibility, but that’s never really been the point. The point is understanding the game a little better than I did yesterday. If I ever think I’ve finished learning, somebody should take the whistle off me.

The interview made the boundaries very clear, and honestly, I quite like that. My job isn’t to redesign Miami FC from scratch. The club wanted the back three because they’d seen what we built at Greenville, so the structure stays. I can now set individual player focuses, which is massive because development should never be accidental, but Santiago Aguirre and Gael Arnold will still own the weekly training plans. Recruitment belongs to Santiago. Staff recruitment sits with the wonderfully moustached Samuel Taylor. Bueno… that’s football now. Head coaches don’t run clubs anymore, and maybe that’s healthy if everyone remembers they’re pulling in the same direction.

There might be one small exception. I think I’ve got enough goodwill to bring in one assistant of my own, and if that happens I know exactly what I’m looking for. Not a yes-man. Not another version of me. I want somebody who’s lived the Argentine game, 
who sees little details before I do, who’ll happily tell me I’m talking complete mierda if he thinks I’m wrong. Football’s too complicated to solve on your own. If I’m going to build something here, I want another obsessive standing beside me.

I always start the same way. Coffee, analysts, video. Not because I’m hunting mistakes, but because every team tells you who it is if you stop trying to change it for long enough to actually watch.

Miami are sixth. Predicted fourth. Third last year after winning the conference the year before. That’s not a broken football club; it’s one that’s lost a little control. The game feels restless. We pass comfortably in our own third, then comfortably around the opposition box, but somewhere in between we stop owning the match. Everything becomes a little rushed, a little reactive, like we’re playing somebody else’s rhythm instead of our own.

The numbers only confirmed what my eyes were already seeing. We’re second in the league for successful dribbles and nobody gets fouled more often, so clearly we have players who can beat people. Bueno… why are only thirty per cent of our shots hitting the target? That’s usually not a striker problem. That’s a structure problem.

Without the ball it’s similar. The goalkeeper has been excellent, maybe excellent enough to hide a few cracks. Two centre-backs spend too much time blocking shots and clearing crosses, while we’re conceding far too many chances from around the penalty spot and from simple passes into Zone 14. That’s not bad luck. That’s spacing.

The good news? None of these problems feel separate. If we can control the middle of the pitch better, get Sonora receiving where the game actually matters, and defend with the ball instead of surviving without it, I don’t think we’re fixing six different issues.

I think we’re fixing one.

Meeting players is always strange because, if I’m honest, by the time I shake their hands I already feel like I know them a little. I’ve watched hours of them. I’ve paused them, rewound them, shouted at the screen and then apologised to the screen because usually it was my own misunderstanding rather than theirs. Footballers don’t introduce themselves with words. They introduce themselves with habits.

The obvious place to start is Joel Sonora. Thirty-one, Argentine-American, adored here, and you can see why within five minutes. Everything slows down around him when he receives the ball. La pausa isn’t something you coach; some players simply carry it with them. The problem isn’t Joel. The problem is that we’ve stopped giving him the game often enough. Arney Rocha is almost the opposite. Twenty-four, Colombian, all movement and energy, having the best season of his career before injury interrupted it. You don’t replace that. You simply count the days until he’s back.

Then there’s Benja Cremaschi, who probably shouldn’t be here at all. MLS, Parma, international recognition, then eighteen frustrating months where football almost forgot him. You can see the hunger. Injury has delayed his debut, but sometimes that isn’t the worst thing. It gives us time to build him properly. And finally Jamir Johnson, an Alabama kid with frightening speed who thinks he’s a winger. Maybe he is. Maybe he’s my left wing-back. Sometimes the player tells you what he is. Sometimes the team tells you something different.

One thing I asked before signing was simple: how serious are you about the academy? Everybody tells you they believe in young players. Then Saturday arrives and suddenly everybody believes in experience instead. Miami didn’t hesitate. Six academy players are already with the first team, and that isn’t a number for a presentation slide. That’s a responsibility.

None of them are finished products, and thank God for that because finished products don’t need coaching. Gianfranco Rodríguez might be the most technically gifted of them all; eighteen years old, creative, technically excellent, but still learning what it means to compete every single day. Francisco Javier Castillo is probably going to play more than people expect at right wing-back, while John Carr will have his own opportunities on the left because development doesn’t happen sitting behind somebody else. Daniel Quintero has all the foundations of a proper box-to-box midfielder, John Ruvalcaba already understands spaces better than most players his age, and Jaime Morales has the hardest job in football – being a young goalkeeper waiting patiently for his chance.

The board have promised these boys minutes, and so have I. Not charity minutes. Earned minutes. That’s a big difference.

The mentoring groups almost excited me as much as the training plan. Rodríguez will spend time around Tommy Musto and Joel Sonora because determination can be contagious if the environment is right. Castillo and Carr will learn from Michael Adedokun, watching how he attacks defenders instead of waiting for them. Ruvalcaba joins Benja Cremaschi and Kellan LeBlanc, two players who understand ambition without needing to talk about it. Coaching isn’t just what happens on the grass. Sometimes it’s simply making sure the right people share the same changing room.