2026-01-02 09:00

As a lifelong student of the game, both as a former player and now as an analyst, I’ve always been fascinated by how we measure success in football. The glittering trophies, the cold, hard statistics of goals and assists—they dominate the headlines and define legacies in the public eye. But I’ve come to believe, through years of observation and conversation with coaches and players at various levels, that the truest achievements often lie in the spaces between those tangible metrics. It’s a concept that extends far beyond the pitch, finding a compelling parallel in the intricate world of international team building, much like the strategic puzzle currently facing the Philippine national basketball team, Gilas Pilipinas.

The recent news about Gilas is a perfect case study. With the entry of Angelo Kouame, the team now has two naturalized players in the pool, but the rules stipulate they can only pick one for the actual FIBA World Cup qualifiers, debuting with a crucial home-and-away set against Guam this November. On the surface, you might look at this and think the "achievement" is simply about choosing the better statistical player—who averages more points or rebounds. But the real achievement for the coaching staff will be measured by something far more nuanced: the ability to build cohesion, to identify which player’s intangible qualities—leadership, defensive communication, adaptability to specific game plans—forge a more complete and resilient team. That’s the true victory in team building, often invisible on a stat sheet but glaringly obvious in the flow of a close game. It’s about creating a whole that is greater than the sum of its individual stats.

Translating this to football, think about a midfielder who might only notch 5 assists in a season, a number that pales in comparison to a league leader’s 15. If we stop there, we’ve missed the story. My own experience watching players like this has taught me to look deeper. Perhaps that player consistently makes the pre-assist pass that breaks the defensive line, a contribution that doesn’t register in traditional tallies. Maybe their real achievement is their positional discipline, which allows a full-back to overlap aggressively, creating space and chances that benefit the entire system. I recall a specific player from a mid-table Serie A team a few seasons back—his defensive positioning and interception rate, which I tracked at a surprisingly high 3.2 per 90 minutes, directly prevented at least 7 clear-cut goal-scoring opportunities against his team over the campaign. That’s a tangible impact, yet you won’t find a "goals prevented" column on most league tables. His true achievement was the trust and stability he provided, a foundation upon which his teammates could build.

Furthermore, leadership and cultural impact are monumental achievements that trophies can only partially reflect. A player who mentors younger teammates, who upholds a professional standard in training every single day, or who becomes a bridge between a new manager and the squad is achieving something profound. I have a strong preference for these kinds of players; they are the glue. A team can win a cup with a collection of brilliant individuals, but sustaining success over years requires these embedded cultural architects. It’s about legacy—what you leave in the dressing room long after you’ve left the club. Did you elevate those around you? Did you help install a winning mentality that persists? These are the questions that point to a deeper, more personal form of achievement.

Of course, this isn’t to say trophies and stats are meaningless. They are the hard currency of the sport, the objective milestones we all strive for. But they are the destination. The true achievement is often found in the journey—the process of growth, the resilience built through adversity, the unseen work that makes the visible success possible. It’s in a player returning from a major injury not just to play, but to restructure their game with intelligence, adding years to their career. It’s in a manager slowly implementing a complex style of play, suffering short-term losses in points (maybe dropping 12 points in the first half of a season compared to a more pragmatic approach) but building a long-term identity for the club.

So, how do we measure this? It requires a more holistic view. We have to watch the games, not just the highlights. We have to value the off-the-ball movement, the defensive shifts, the emotional energy a player brings. We must appreciate the strategic dilemmas, like the one facing Gilas Pilipinas, where the correct choice isn’t about the "best" player, but the "right" player for a specific collective challenge. In the end, the most authentic football achievements are those that resonate on a human level: the respect of peers, the growth of a unit, and the indelible mark one leaves on a team’s spirit. These are the stories that last, long after the silverware tarnishes and the record books are updated.