Editor’s Note: This story is included in The Athletic’s Best of 2021. View the full list. Originally published in October 2021, it has been republished and updated in light of Pepi’s transfer to FC Augsburg on Jan. 3, 2022.
For most of the 19th century, the Rio Grande river rose above its familiar banks and seeped out into the desert. Trees drank freely, and the badlands of West Texas were often altered — in some rare cases, forever. One mighty flood in 1829 split the Rio Grande into two large waterways, and left on an island between the two was the community of San Elizario, one of three local missions originally built by the Spaniards centuries prior, back to a time when ruthless, fortune-seeking conquistadors meandered around the American Southwest in search of fabled cities coated in gold they would never find.
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San Elizario was part of Mexico then, and for nearly 20 years longer, it remained so. But when the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo was signed in 1848, bringing an official end to the Mexican-American War, it was decided that the deepest channel of the Rio Grande would serve as the official international boundary between the United States and Mexico. San Elizario was suddenly in a new country, just a stone’s throw from the flooded channel. Close to 200 years on, you can still chuck a stone into another country from the west side of town.
“So,” said Al Borrego, who guides walking tours around town in San Elizario, “here we are, in America.”
A half-hour drive south of El Paso, San Elizario today is described by its residents as a quaint, relic-filled West town. Various buildings from the early 1800s still stand tall and proud. The presidio chapel of San Elizario is a striking vanilla-white edifice, constructed in 1877 in place of where a military stronghold was once built by the Spaniards in the late 1700s. “San Eli,” as its citizens refer to it, is also a community where you have no choice but to pave your own path. “Nothing easy” is a phrase you’ll hear again and again.
This is the place that produced FC Dallas and U.S. national team striker Ricardo Pepi. Still only 18 years old, he is a newly discovered treasure from a largely untapped demographic with the promise of more on the horizon.
“It’s a town where you build up wherever you’re able to build,” Ricardo’s father Daniel said.
According to the U.S. Census figures, 34.9 percent of San Elizario residents were classified to be living beneath the poverty line. As a whole, 13.6 percent of Texans live beneath the line. San Eli is also one of the lowest per-capita income areas in the state, with residents averaging over $17,000 less annually in 2019 than the Texas average.
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“It’s a worker’s community. It’s a craftsman’s community. They’re tile workers, cement workers, bricklayers, framers, sheet rockers, painters, rock wall builders,” said Max Sappenfield, head coach of the San Elizario High boys soccer team, which has won three Texas state titles since 2015. “People here build homes from the ground up with their own hands.”
Daniel Pepi really started saving to build his own home when Ricardo, his oldest child, was two years old. That’s when the family moved from El Paso to San Elizario.
The Pepis lived in a mobile home on their land for more than six years, waiting season after season for when Daniel would finally start breaking ground on the home he long promised his wife, Annette. It was there, in San Eli, where Daniel began schooling his son in the sport. As the years wore on and the passes became crisper, as his shot became more powerful, as Ricardo sprouted much taller than most kids in other youth soccer leagues, he would be on the hot grass at Lorenzo G. Alarcon Elementary kicking with his dad. It was about five miles from home.
There, father and son would train and train. Days on end, for months, and then years. There, in this small border town, a lanky, young, dynamic Mexican-American goalscorer of the future was bred, and the giants of European soccer would eventually take notice. But Ricardo Pepi represents more than scintillating transfer rumors and grandiose figures, which manifested at the start of 2022 with a big-money move to the Bundesliga’s FC Augsburg. It’s a savior complex he’ll have to battle now, having detonated onto the U.S. soccer scene as the scorer for which the U.S. men’s national team fan base has been yearning.
In late summer, Ricardo had to make a career-defining decision: to play for the U.S. or Mexico senior national team.
“Between my wife and myself, we always told him that decision was going to be his,” explained Daniel. “He grew up watching Mexican soccer. If you were to ask me, personally, it would have been my dream to see him play for the Mexican national team. That was my league. Those were my players. That was my national team. That was my dream. That’s not his.
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“He was born here. … All the opportunities to be where he’s at right now has been through the U.S. I’m Mexican, but I love the U.S., as well. This is where I’m doing my life. This country has helped me sustain my family. I love America. I love the United States. Even though I’m Mexican.”
Ricardo said every day he exists in both cultures: “Outside of my house, I feel like I’m American, but in my house, it’s all Mexican inside my household.”
On Sept. 8, he cemented his decision in Honduras by starting a crucial World Cup qualifier for the U.S. With his team in one of the region’s most hostile stadiums and staring down a truly disastrous start in its attempt to avenge their predecessors’ failure to reach the 2018 World Cup in Russia, Ricardo came through with a goal and an assist (plus a hockey-style assist on the last goal of the night when his curling shot was pushed into the path of Sebastian Lletget) in the 4-1 victory in San Pedro Sula.
After the final whistle, Ricardo hunched his 6-foot-1 frame to get through the makeshift tunnel fashioned by Honduran police officers in riot gear hoisting up their massive plastic shields. It was the signal of an arrival. One that prompted his teammates to chant his name in elation once they reached the safety of the visitors’ locker room.
There, head coach Gregg Berhalter called Ricardo up in front of the team and singled out his performance. Ricardo looked uncomfortable. He soon tried to sit down next to defender Tim Ream, but Berhalter kept him up there. The magnitude of that evening should not be minimized. If the U.S. should punch a ticket back to the World Cup next winter in Qatar, Ricardo’s performance could end up being the turning point.
“I don’t like to always have the spotlight on me,” he later said. “I just did the best that I can for my team. If I do the best for the team, like, personal things such as scoring goals or having good games will come my way. I don’t always like the attention, but if you offer it, I’ll take it.”
Ricardo is a confounding case study, a target forward who loves nothing more than pelting the back of the net, but who vows he is not obsessed with the notoriety that serves as necessary fuel for most strikers. That’s something. Ask U.S. goalkeeper Matt Turner, who’s been on the business end of the Pepi hype train at the club level — Ricardo scored two of his team-best 13 goals this year for FC Dallas on Turner and the New England Revolution in June.
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“He’s a player that plays above his age: you don’t look at him and think that he’s as old as he is,” he said.
Midfielder Brenden Aaronson, a whopping two years older than Pepi, summed up the swashbuckling approach this budding, albeit unproven core of American players set out to play with: “I think the best thing for a young player is just going out with no fear.”
Ricardo has only ever feared losing the game. Daniel had to temper his son’s relentless approach even as a first-grader. At six years old, an errant swing off the monkey bars left Ricardo with a shattered elbow and broken wrist. Doctors said a full arm cast would be necessary for as long as four months.
His club team wore dated Chelsea FC jerseys that season. Ricardo feared not being able to play for months on end. So Daniel took his son to Home Depot and bought a roll of bubble wrap to engulf his giant cast. They showed up to a match ready to play, his giant blue cast weighing him down whenever he tried to sprint. But he did anyway, making sure not to swing his bubble-wrapped cast in the direction of any opponents.
“That’s who he is,” Daniel said. “That’s who he always has been.”
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There were days, too, like any other fiery kid, when a young Ricardo would storm off the pitch, irate over a loss or a shot he couldn’t put away. Omar Morín, who coached him in various youth soccer leagues around El Paso from ages 8 to 12, described the intensity of soccer in the area as quite unforgiving. Even for youngsters who haven’t yet learned the tactical side or don’t know how to hit a shot with the in-step of their foot, it’s results over everything.
“If you come to El Paso and you see a U-7 game, parents, players, coaches, it’s all about winning the game,” Morín said. “Regardless of the way you teach them, it’s a lot of competition. Whatever it takes to win the game.”
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Together, Morín and Daniel took a different approach. They saw that Ricardo, always taller, more mobile, and more positionally diverse than most kids, should learn to play everywhere else on the pitch before up top. Daniel wanted that, too, despite having grown up as a striker playing in leagues around El Paso after he moved from Juárez during his elementary school years. They wanted Ricardo to learn how to be a box-to-box midfielder, to figure out link-up play with a forward. To subconsciously know where and how a forward would want to receive a through-ball in various pockets of space. That all led to Ricardo’s seamless transition at 11 to the striker spot, where he eventually moved full-time and has developed into one of the most promising players at that position in recent memory.
“I would stay an hour after practice every day shooting on goal every type of way you could think of: headers, volleys, on the ground,” Ricardo remembers. “Anything that ever had to do with shooting, I would always stay after practice for an hour back home with Omar. I never want it to become a weakness.”
The Pepis lived in the mobile home on that plot in San Eli until Ricardo was 8. That’s when Daniel started building their dream home. It would take him two years to finish. Daniel has spent most of his life working in construction, learning how to build and frame homes all over Texas. The company he worked for in El Paso allowed him to work four 10-hour shifts, Monday through Thursday. His Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays were reserved for building his own home and a future American soccer prodigy.
“We didn’t have a lot of things,” Ricardo said. “We had enough to make it to where we are now. We weren’t the richest, we weren’t the poorest, but we had enough to make something out of it.”
To help fund Ricardo’s dream, Daniel sold family cars, took out a second mortgage on the property and even borrowed money from friends. The drive from San Eli to El Paso is about an hour round-trip, but it was one they would make daily for practices at dusk and games on the weekends.
“We never lived in a brand new house. We never had the new cars. I don’t want him to forget,” Daniel said. “It’s part of not losing the ground, man.”
The greater El Paso area, various soccer coaches there said, is a microcosm of what soccer in America could look like one day. But reaching all necessary communities remains a relatively hollow endeavor as youth soccer in the U.S., for the most part, relies heavily on the pay-to-play system that favors middle-to-upper-class kids who don’t struggle to pay the often enormous fees. Time magazine reported in 2020 that the average family in America will pay upwards of $1,500 per child for club soccer, and that those numbers can balloon to extremes like $10,000 per calendar year.
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Sappenfield, who has coached high school soccer in West Texas for years, said there are many more Ricardo Pepis to be scouted and found. The infrastructure, however, is not conducive for players who come from lower socioeconomic backgrounds. That is opposite to how youth soccer is run in other parts of the world, especially in Europe and South America. The vast majority of the pay-to-play system, however, remains beyond the full reach of the U.S. Soccer Federation.
“It’s not just Latinos or people that live closer to Mexico, either,” said former U.S. forward Brian McBride, now the general manager of the USMNT. “We’ve got situations in the inner city where we’re trying to find solutions, too. Part of it is the platform. Part of it is helping younger coaches or coaches that don’t really understand soccer and giving them knowledge and helping them reach that grassroots individual.”
Ricardo eventually joined the FC Dallas academy at 13, moving 10 hours east to Frisco, outside Dallas. That first year without their oldest child in the house, Daniel and Annette said they felt like they were missing an arm. The family did everything together. Always.
After a year, the Pepis went to watch Ricardo in the prestigious Dallas Cup. FC Dallas lost in the tournament semifinal. Afterward, Daniel and Ricardo sat in the hotel room the family had rented and reminisced on the previous season. Ricardo had told his father how much he’d love for them to relocate and be closer to him, but understood, even at that age, that it would be asking the world to: uproot their family, leave the home Daniel built with his own two hands and ask his parents to get new jobs 10 hours away.
“He started crying at that moment,” Daniel said. “At 13 years old, man, he said, ‘Dad, I love you guys. I wish you could be here with me. But this is my dream. I’m going to follow it.’ That was it. Then I was the one who started crying. I told my wife we’re moving.”
The next morning, Daniel finally accepted a longstanding offer in the greater Dallas area, where he still works. He quit his job in El Paso. The Pepis were going to be together again. Like they were supposed to be.
When Ricardo was 7, Daniel took him to the U-17 World Cup in Mexico. Ricardo told his dad that one day he would be on a stage like that. Daniel laughed. He knew Ricardo was good, but he embraced the juvenile delusion, because why not?
Daniel raised his kids watching the Mexican first division, Liga MX, and Club América was their team. Ricardo always found time to watch Real Madrid matches when he was a kid, too. Cristiano Ronaldo’s ability to score goals in every imaginable way tantalized him. Ricardo would then turn to Daniel and ask what he would do if one day his son could play for Madrid. Again, Daniel would laugh.
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Looking back now, though, it doesn’t seem so funny.
“Yeah, it’s a dream,” Daniel said. “He’s always thought he could get to big places, but knows he has to take the right steps to it.”
Morín remembers initial team introductions when he coached the U-8 squad Ricardo was on. He asked each kid to stand up and describe their dreams and what they hoped to get out of playing soccer. Ricardo was one of the few who said it would be his career one day. He said Champions League football in Europe was the pinnacle for him.
“Here, in our small city, when a kid says that, we just laugh. Just keep dreaming,” Morín said. “If he says that now? Everybody is going to believe him.”
As he continued to score goals and make it look easy, the teenager was being looked at by some of the top clubs in the world’s top leagues. Reports were that teams in England, Germany, Italy and the Netherlands were scouting him, and that the transfer fee required to pry him from MLS will end up being the largest ever for one of the league’s homegrown players. He signed a new five-year contract extension with FC Dallas in July that runs through 2026, but that was a formality.
FC Dallas president Dan Hunt told a reporter in early October that Ricardo is “the hottest American soccer property right now.”
“The difference happens as the speed quickens,” McBride said of Ricardo’s evolution. “When a player can adapt quickly from the youth level to the MLS, and he adapts like that after he joins us in his first camp, and by the way, is not fazed by anything. His mentality, it comes across as he’s been there for a while. Those are all things that I think are traits that clubs want. Because they know they can add a little bit here and there if he has this continual growth. His ceiling is really high. There’s still a long road ahead. But at this age, it’s really impressive to see.”
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Before his move to Augsburg, there had been momentum surrounding links between Ricardo and Ajax. One source confirmed the interest to The Athletic as Ajax being in the final stages of scouting the American forward. Another club that was intrigued by Ricardo is German Bundesliga giant Bayern Munich, which has a partnership with FC Dallas. According to sources familiar with the situation, Bayern, which initially took notice of him in March 2018 when he made his first of two trips to Germany to train, immediately identified Ricardo as a traditional No. 9 striker, unlike previous U.S. star scorers such as Clint Dempsey or Landon Donovan. They saw him as a No. 9 who would fit their system, too. Coaches there were impressed by his fluidity in the attack, his turns on the ball, and one coach said Ricardo reminded him of a young Edin Dzeko, the decorated Bosnian striker who has been the top scorer in both the Bundesliga and Italy’s Serie A. Some within the Bayern youth system believed Ricardo had what it takes to go pro three years ago. In January, Ricardo was able to return to Bayern and train once more.
He spoke glowingly of his time at Bayern, too.
“That was one of the best experiences I’ve had in my life,” he said. “Those are moments that stay with you forever. Those are learning experiences where you get to grab a lot of information with the playing style over there in Europe. Those are moments where you grow as a player. I feel like it prepared me well for this season. I love that connection that FC Dallas has with Bayern.”
Bayern wanted to keep Ricardo in tow and put him on its second team, which played in the German third division (it has since been relegated to the fourth division), but Dallas needed him back due to a thin depth chart up top. Sources indicated that Bayern would have welcomed Ricardo back and believed he’d be interested in signing, but first the club would need to lay out a clear career path for him regarding the first team.
“(I) don’t think U.S. football has ever seen a striker like him,” one source said. “Body like (Robert) Lewandowski, agile, good pace, can move wide.”
Ricardo said nowadays he breaks down videos of the likes of Lewandowski and young Borussia Dortmund star Erling Haaland to try to add elements to his own game.
For as long as he can remember, Daniel has told his eldest to keep his feet planted firmly on the ground at all times. This part of his evolution as a player is no different. Those dreams are within touching distance, but the right steps are still necessary.
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“Especially now, man,” Daniel said. “As you know, he’s getting a lot of attention from everywhere. It’s good because, in a way, they’re recognizing his hard work and the position where he’s at right now, but we’re still humans. We still have to be respectful. Yes, a lot of European teams are looking this way, but nothing’s done yet.”
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Outside the family’s home in Prosper, Texas — an easy 15-minute drive to FC Dallas headquarters in Frisco — Ricardo Pepi is the surging and magnetic forward that American soccer fans can’t wait to see represent the Stars & Stripes again. He’s the forward who would eventually be sold to a European club for millions upon millions. At home, he’s the teenager with the shaggy mop top and scraggly beard who still has to help Annette carry in groceries or take the trash cans to the street or ensure the plates are clean before drying them and putting them away. He still has to pick his younger sister up from school sometimes.
“Ricardo Pepi outside of my house could be this really good prospect,” Daniel said, “but in the house, he’s my kid, so he’s got responsibilities just like the other ones.”
Life, Daniel and Annette have taught Ricardo, doesn’t stop or start at his convenience just because he’s a terror for center backs.
“It doesn’t ever change,” Ricardo said.
Back in San Elizario, the community is rooting on its now most famous son. Al Borrego said in October he’d love for Ricardo to be the grand marshal of the San Elizario Veterans Parade in 2022. But Ricardo will be abroad, vying for a starting spot at Augsburg. Max Sappenfield said Ricardo still keeps in touch with his old friends who’ve since gone on to win state titles in boys soccer, routinely posting about their success on social media.
“Pepi is sort of a red, white, blue, green, red and white American,” Sappenfield said.
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Just over a month ago, Ricardo stood six yards away from one of the best goalkeepers in the region, waiting to deliver a kick that wouldn’t define him, but would eventually prove his mettle. The final penalty-kick taker in the 2021 MLS All-Star Game against the Liga MX All-Stars, Ricardo stared down Nahuel Guzmán, the Tigres UANL keeper who has helped the Liga MX club reign over the continent the last five years.
18-YEAR-OLD RICARDO PEPI FOR THE WIN 🎯#MLSAllStar Game pres. by @Target pic.twitter.com/iAeES7qAyU
— Major League Soccer (@MLS) August 26, 2021
“There were a lot of things,” Ricardo said when asked what thoughts swirled about in his head. “The main thing was the opportunity that I’d been presented with.”
Then he rocketed in a no-doubter that pinged off the underside of the crossbar and in.
“Those are moments where you’ve just got to trust yourself,” he said. “I have known ever since I started playing soccer when I was 4. I always had confidence in myself to score goals.”
More than anything else, though, Ricardo embraced the opportunity given to him. Just as he did when his parents sacrificed money, possessions and time to pay for his years as a developing player. Just as he did when DeAndre Yedlin floated in that pinpoint cross in San Pedro Sula last month. Just as he did growing up in San Elizario, where some friends back home are now working 60-hour weeks in construction, waiting to one day build a home of their own, raise a family, and teach their children soccer, to never lose the ground.
Raphael Honigstein, Felipe Cárdenas and Sam Stejskal also contributed to this story.
(Photo illustration: Wes McCabe / The Athletic. Photo: Kevin Jairaj / USA Today)