From New Jersey to Copa del Rey? Matarazzo reaching new heights for U.S. coaches in Europe

SAN SEBASTIAN, Spain -- A small boy stands in the spring sunshine outside Anoeta, home of Real Sociedad. His name is Iñaki, six or seven years old, and he is happy now. At the start of the year, the team he comes here to watch with his dad, Aimar, was in trouble. Its worst start to a season in 20 years had left it a single point from the relegation zone in LaLiga. The headlines were calling it a "crisis," the team "sunk" and "unresponsive."

Then a new coach arrived.

Iñaki didn't know much about Pellegrino Matarazzo then -- truth be told, most people here hadn't even heard of this 48-year-old from New Jersey who had never worked in Spain before. But now? "He has been like our God, the savior," Iñaki says.

"Poliki, poliki," Matarazzo likes to say. It comes from Basque, the oldest language in Europe, and it means something like slowly, slowly or step by step. Keep calm, in other words. But how can they keep calm when the resurrection has been so rapid, when the next step could be winning Sunday's Copa del Rey final and lifting the trophy for only the fourth time in the club's 116-year history?

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On Matarazzo's first game in charge as coach on Jan. 4, La Real held Atlético Madrid to a draw. They won seven of the next eight, including a dramatic victory over Barcelona, and it took two months for them to lose a game. Now, four months into the job, Matarazzo has taken them from the edge of the relegation places to the edge of UEFA Champions League qualification and the cup final, defeating their great Basque rivals Athletic Club en route.

"We needed someone to revive the team, the talent we know they have," says Erik Bretos, Real Sociedad's sporting director. They chose a graduate in applied mathematics who had been out of work for over a year. He had coached Bundesliga teams Hoffenheim and Stuttgart, and the B team at Nürnberg, and in academy football. Before that he had spent his playing career in Germany's lower leagues. But, Matarazzo says, "My first team was the Fair Lawn Cutters. That's the high school team in a normal Bergen County town in New Jersey, growing up."

From there, his journey has taken him to within one win of becoming the first U.S.-born coach to win a major trophy at a club in one of Europe's top five leagues. He has taken it step by step. Poliki, poliki.

Paint it green, white and red

Real Sociedad's coach was born in Wayne, NJ, in 1977. Raised in Patterson and Fair Lawn, his father Leopoldo was a car mechanic originally from near Avellino, thirty miles inland from Naples, Italy. His mother, Gemma, worked at a local Jersey factory and was from Salerno, 20 miles south of Avellino. "There was a big rivalry, a big football derby that was always very heated," Matarazzo tells ESPN. "But the main team for all of us was Napoli.

"They were humble, hardworking, doing everything they could to create the opportunities me and my brothers had. My family, my Italian roots, meant that my love of the game was instilled at a very early age watching Serie A on my dad's small TV. Those were the times of Diego Maradona. We used to have a red Wrangler Jeep. And when Italy won the 1982 World Cup, my dad spray-painted it green, white and red, and we led the parade to Patterson city center with all the Italians following us, beeping and waving flags. A big party. Those are my first images of the passion we all felt as a family for football."

He adds: "At that time, other sports dominated the U.S. landscape; it wasn't so popular to play football. But it is a world sport, part of Italian culture. We would play in the park every Sunday. Then there was the high school team and our rec team was coached by my dad and one of my friend's dads. It wasn't a big circle, but it was something we loved, and it kept us tight, connected even though we were outsiders. My dad used to take penalty kicks with the outside of his foot; that was like his trademark play. It was very deceptive. He was very quick. I don't know how good he would have been had he had the chance. He came to the States young and had to work from the beginning."

If Matarazzo Sr. didn't get to play as much as he would have liked, Matarazzo Jr. did. And he was good, too. "I'm trying to stay humble," he says, laughing. "But I was the top player at high school, the one who lived the game the most. I always had heart, commitment. I was creative, goal-scoring, an attacking player. I was good at college too. As a freshman, I was a starter quickly. So in the States at that time I would consider myself a good player. And I always knew my direction was football."

Not everyone did. In fact, some thought he was mad. Not just then, but later. Matarazzo's story is one of passion and bloody-mindedness, and you couldn't blame those who questioned his choices. Math always came naturally to him, and as an Ivy League graduate with a degree in applied mathematics, he could have had it made. The job offers were already coming in. In finance: he was in demand. In football: not so much. It was one thing being a fine player in that U.S. context, helping to open Columbia's doors, but quite another making it a career.

"I had opportunities to start working. There was interest from several companies," Matarazzo recalls. "But I didn't want to start in the corporate world, without giving football a shot. There was something driving me: I guess that's why I'm here now.

"The original thought was to play in Italy, of course. After college I had been promised a trial with Salernitana through an agent. I arrived in June after graduation, but it never happened. They kept postponing the trial, and at the end of the transfer window I got an opportunity to train with a third-division club for one day. The coach said, 'Listen, I see your potential, but there's no way we can sign you. You should start in the lower leagues.' I lost a year."

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1:27

How Matarazzo went from Ivy League to Germany's lower leagues

Pellegrino Matarazzo explains why, despite graduating from Columbia University with a degree in applied mathematics, he chose to pursue a career as a soccer player in Europe.

There's a pause, a smile. Warm memories returning. "Well," he says, "I wouldn't say I lost a year: Six months with my grandparents on the hazelnut farm was an amazing experience. I traveled Italy, too. But I lost a year of football and returned to the States.

"There were two sides. After several months of not getting in a team, my mom was pushing me in the other direction [toward business]. And there were many people in my surroundings -- family, friends -- saying, 'What are you doing? Why don't you start working?' But I said, 'No, I'm going to give football one last shot.' My dad saw that as a part of who I am, [of] growing up. He was the one saying, 'Go, go, go.'"

So Pellegrini Matarazzo did go.

"A German fellow saw me playing and asked me to go on trial in Germany, at a fourth-division club where his friend coached. I didn't even think. I left the U.S. immediately, with one [piece of] luggage. And I never came back."

'This is the moment we can dance'

Twenty-five years passed. They weren't always easy.

Matarazzo moved from playing as a No. 10 to a No. 6, and now he laughs as he remembers how fans enjoyed cheering on the American who couldn't win a header despite being 6-foot-5. Although he quickly progressed from the fourth tier to the third he went no further, his highest point a cup game against Werder Bremen. His playing career at SG Wattenscheid 09, SV Wehen, Preussen Munster and Eintracht Bad Kreuznach saw him stay in Germany for eight years; his coaching career kept him there over a decade longer.

"I earned enough money to get by," he says. "I wouldn't say I was a professional player, but it was my occupation. Even then, some said, 'Come back and use your degree; it could [give you] a very successful future.' But I had enjoyed coaching on soccer camps in the U.S. and I love the game, so I always wanted to continue. My playing career was not enough to say, 'OK, I'm happy with what I've done.' There was still hunger within me.

"But there was a time when I had difficulty getting my coaching licenses. I had to really prove my quality, be better than everyone else, to get on the course. And when I made the transition into coaching, we struggled. By the time I became assistant at Hoffenheim, my first role with a professional team, my bank account was ... there were red numbers. There was below zero. It was tight, very tight. My wife makes fun of me because my currency was doner kebabs. Whenever she would buy something, I would say: 'Dani, you know how many doner kebabs we could have got with that?!'"

A return to the U.S. was considered, but the drive to achieve his goals in Europe kept Matarazzo there.

"It's funny," he says. "There was a time when I was at Hoffenheim, working in the academy I said to my wife, 'Maybe this is it. Maybe I just settle here. Build a family. Do something productive. I'm still in the game.' And she's like 'Rino, look at all you sacrificed. There's no way you're going to be happy with just this.' That hit home. I said, 'You're right. I'm going to keep pushing.' I was also brave enough to turn down opportunities that didn't feel right."

Until one day late in 2018, 18 years after first arriving in Germany, Stuttgart called. "I just knew," Matarazzo says.

"One image comes to mind. New Year's Eve, right before I took over at Stuttgart. It was all set. Just me, my wife and my son in our apartment. My wife put on a song. A German song; I forget the name. But she started dancing. And I was like, 'You know what? Yeah. Yeah.' This is the moment we can dance. A moment to step back and say 'OK, this is happening. This is reality. This is what we have been working and waiting for. My entire life.'"

The open Atlantic

"I'm happy at how it turned out. I mean, look at this." Well, quite.

Matarazzo is looking across the beautiful bay of La Concha, a golden, arched sweep of sand at the heart of San Sebastian (or Donostia, in Basque), one of Europe's most elegant cities.

His family has had to stay in Germany for now: His 16-year-old son has 1½ years left of high school, exams imminent, and there is Jiraiya, the family Weimaraner, to consider too. "My son named him after an anime character who symbolizes resilience," Matarazzo says. "It's a good name for a great dog." He misses them, but everything else could hardly be better.

"I had heard you could eat well here, that it's a beautiful place and, well, it's lived up to its reputation," Matarazzo says, pointing things out as he makes his way along the promenade and into the old town where every door is a bar, laden with pintxos. As he goes there are glances, the occasional photo request and lots of people thanking him. As the cup final draws closer, the excitement builds. "I walk outside my apartment and the first thing I hear is 'Win!'

"Usually my walk is where we're walking now. Go up around this little mountain. Monte Urgull, to the back where you look at the open Atlantic. Walk by the port. Have a drink, a coffee, eat something. This is my every day, what I do. Generally, I walk aimlessly ... but with a clear inwards direction ... thoughts and feelings getting released. A couple of pintxos [small snacks], a txakoli [local wine], talk to people. The people are just quality people."

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1:30

Matarazzo on being a U.S. coach in Europe: 'A lot of comparisons to Ted Lasso'

Real Sociedad coach Pellegrino Matarazzo reveals that he has felt a resistance from the European soccer world to hiring American players and coaches.

It has been partly Matarazzo's willingness to embrace the city, the region, Basque culture, the fact that he seems to like them so much that has helped them take him to heart so quickly. "Well," he says. "Let's be honest, the results are a big part. Winning games is important."

There's a smile. "I mean, I'm here for the football," he says, laughing.

Matarazzo has won a lot of games. When Real Sociedad called in the autumn, they were in trouble. By the time they sacked former coach Sergio Francisco, they had just 16 points from 16 games. After taking Stuttgart up to the Bundesliga and then leading Hoffenheim into Europe, Matarazzo had been released, leading him to a conclusion: It was time to try something different, somewhere different.

"At Hoffenheim it was pretty clear what was going to happen. The politics, the dynamic in the club had changed," Matarazzo says, clicking his fingers. "OK done. I shut down fast, recovered, regenerated. I took a year to rest, gain knowledge, prepare. I knew my next step would be decisive, so I was patient.

"It is true that the longer you're out of the game, the less likely you get back in. So I set myself a time frame. How long can I be very, very selective for? When do I need to take an opportunity I would maybe not have taken at first?"

How close to the limit was he? "Very close. There was interest from strong leagues in Europe, but there had been no opening. I was very close to that limit to be honest."

To date, Jesse Marsch's two Austrian league and cup doubles in as many years with RB Salzburg are the high point for managers from the U.S. in Europe. Matarazzo, Marsch, Bob Bradley and David Wagner are the only American coaches to hold jobs in one of Europe's top five leagues, but none of those spells yielded any trophies. Is there still resistance to Americans in European football?

"I've felt that, yes." Matarazzo admits. "I felt that as a player. And as a coach. In the initial phases: 'What can he do?' And you [still] get comparisons to Ted Lasso. Right? I don't feel responsibility for other Americans. But if [my success helps], great. I'd love to open doors, but that's not why I'm here."

When the opportunity arrived in Spain, it was perfect for everyone. "From the very first call I said yes," Matarazzo says. "I was in London, cut that trip short to come to Biarritz to meet Jokin [Aperribay, the club president] and Erik [Bretos]. From the first conversation, I knew: There's something here. I identify with the values of the club, the region. I fell in love right away.

"The fact that there are so many fantastic football clubs and players from the Basque region is incredible: Someone needs to do a study on it. The culture around this city and region is: hardworking, humble, grounded. I identify with it. It starts with the people and shows in our captain Mikel Oyarzabal: a big player but still so grounded, so connected.

"You know LaLiga. You know what a special club Real Sociedad has been. It's a good mix of being emotional, big fan support and very smart in their decision-making. You watch the games: That's the first thing you do when a club calls. You think about your character, how you can bring it into a team, how you can help them, what the potential is, the style. ... You take in and it generates just a gut feeling. Right? You can't quantify feeling."

Matarazzo laughs. Surely he can? "Well, maybe. But I've been out of the mathematics game for 25 years. It's for sure a complex equation. So I just let go and, it felt right."

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2:43

Burley praises 'quality' Real Sociedad win over Barcelona

Craig Burley and Luis Garcia discuss Real Sociedad's 2-1 win at home vs. Barcelona in LaLiga.

Poliki, Poliki

It was right.

"You set priorities," Matarazzo says. "You have conversations with leaders at the club. The captains. With Mikel. I lay out the steps, the process. The things that can take us the furthest with the least effort: You tackle [those] first. There's a mental side, a technical, tactical side. You talk about who we are: What defines our personality, our character? It was very important for them to have clarity. It's no secret that this team has a lot of potential.

"We put an emphasis on activation. On connection. How we react to setbacks reset and push forward. This team needed a more direct route to go down. Less possession, more transition. A clear way to press. Clear principles. I wanted to set the players free, to be brave, to try. They felt the change; they needed to."

What was the thing that most needed to change? "The results," Matarazzo says, laughing. And they did. Back then, success was defined as survival. Now, it's different, sights set higher. As Iñaki put it: "God, the savior."

"La Real won a cup in 2020, but that was during the Corona time so there were no fans," Matarazzo says. "You have to go to 1987 for that, so there is huge excitement, but step by step.

"Poliki, poliki. It just came to mind. I heard someone at the club say it and asked what it meant. I've been trying to pick up Basque words as well, to connect through language. And it just sounds great, right?"

A final does, too, after all this. It has been quite a journey for the kid in the back of the painted jeep, the striker from the Fair Lawn Cutters, the young man heading to Europe alone, the struggling coach counting the cost in doner kebabs, always resisting the temptation to turn back, driven by something deeper.

Matarazzo strolls along the promenade looking out on the ocean he crossed 26 years ago and turns down a narrow street in the old town of a city that has caught cup fever. He stops outside his destination, a restaurant on 31 de Agosto Kalea, and thinks. There's a moment's reflection. "My wife and son, part of this, are extremely proud," he says. "My parents, the same. My brothers, who have given me the values and strength I've needed to ..."

A voice interrupts. The table's ready. Matarazzo laughs. "You've ruined a beautiful moment," he says, ducking inside and ordering a txakoli.