Dur­ing my re­cent UE­FA com­mu­ni­ca­tions course in Gene­va, I was re­mind­ed of a truth I’ve al­ways known but nev­er quite had the frame­work to ful­ly ar­tic­u­late: in foot­ball, as in life, sto­ries sell more than you can imag­ine. Not just goals and re­sults, but jour­neys. Per­son­al­i­ties. Tri­umphs against the odds. Foot­ball, at its heart, is dra­ma—and the job of com­mu­ni­ca­tors is to tell that sto­ry well.

UE­FA’s ap­proach to sto­ry­telling is de­lib­er­ate and strate­gic. Whether through so­cial me­dia, press con­fer­ences, or be­hind-the-scenes con­tent, Eu­ro­pean na­tions and clubs un­der­stand that peo­ple con­nect more deeply with peo­ple than with score­lines. They hu­man­ise the game—el­e­vat­ing play­ers to icons not just through their stats but through their back­grounds, emo­tions, and in­ter­ac­tions with fans.

But what struck me most dur­ing the course was how much of this we al­ready have in the Caribbean—maybe not al­ways cap­tured, struc­tured, or am­pli­fied.

In Trinidad and To­ba­go and out­side, I’ve filmed raw, emo­tion­al, and of­ten un­re­hearsed mo­ments that could ri­val any Eu­ro­pean do­cuseries. A young baller from the south with in­cred­i­ble flair who trains bare­foot but can out-drib­ble pros. A sin­gle moth­er trav­el­ling every week­end to sup­port her daugh­ter’s foot­ball dream in Cou­va. Team­mates band­ing to­geth­er to en­sure they can trav­el and ar­rive on time for train­ing ses­sions for club or na­tion­al team These are not just mo­ments—they’re move­ments wait­ing to be told.

And then there are the names we all know—but not al­ways the jour­neys be­hind them.

Kevin Moli­no rose from Care­nage, liv­ing with his grand­moth­er, to be­come a Trinidad and To­ba­go main­stay and a star in Ma­jor League Soc­cer. He once said, “When I was young, all I had was the ball and the dream. Every­thing else was faith and fam­i­ly.”

The Jones broth­ers, Jo­evin and Alvin, grew up watch­ing their fa­ther—a for­mer na­tion­al play­er—and car­ried that lega­cy for­ward. Their sto­ry isn’t just about foot­ball, it’s about fam­i­ly and gen­er­a­tional fire.

And in 2023, I saw how sto­ry­telling and iden­ti­ty meet in re­al time: a group of kids from San­gre Grande at­tend­ed a na­tion­al se­nior team train­ing ses­sion and Na­tions League match—not as dis­tant ob­servers, but as proud home­town fans of Re­on Moore. One of the boys said to me, “Re­on is one of us. If he could make it, maybe I could too.” That’s not just in­spi­ra­tion—that’s di­rec­tion.

What the UE­FA course gave me was lan­guage and tools—but what life in T&T and the wider Caribbean has giv­en me is the con­tent. The emo­tion. The au­then­tic­i­ty. The why.

The Caribbean is full of un­tapped po­ten­tial, not just in terms of ath­let­ic tal­ent, but in sto­ry­telling. We come from a cul­ture of talk­ers, per­form­ers, gri­ots. Our ath­letes al­ready have com­pelling arcs. Our job is to frame them. To give these sto­ries rhythm and reach. We don’t need to mim­ic Eu­rope—we need to ap­ply those lessons with our own voice.

As I con­tin­ue work­ing with young ath­letes across Trinidad,Grena­da, St Lu­cia and Ja­maica, I’m com­mit­ted to bridg­ing the gap. To help our re­gion build sto­ry­telling sys­tems that are pro­fes­sion­al, yet root­ed in cul­ture. Strate­gic, but re­al.

Be­cause if there’s one thing UE­FA has taught me, it’s this: sto­ries build brands—and the Caribbean has some of the best sto­ries in the world.

From Pas­sion

to Pol­i­cy Pow­er

But be­yond con­tent and en­gage­ment, there’s a big­ger play here—po­lit­i­cal ad­vo­ca­cy.

If sto­ry­telling shows us the soul of the game, then ad­vo­ca­cy asks: what are we do­ing to pro­tect it? To grow it? To recog­nise it as a tool for na­tion­al de­vel­op­ment, youth em­pow­er­ment, and com­mu­ni­ty co­he­sion?

Our sta­di­ums are filled with vot­ers, dream­ers, and fu­ture lead­ers. The same boys cheer­ing for Kevin Moli­no and Re­on Moore to­day could be the ones tak­ing a youth team to a CON­CA­CAF fi­nal to­mor­row—if the sys­tem sup­ports them. And that’s where the sto­ries we tell must evolve—from in­spi­ra­tion to ac­ti­va­tion.

We need to show—not just say—that foot­ball and sport de­serve in­fra­struc­ture, fund­ing, and long-term plan­ning. The same way we cham­pi­on oil and gas, tourism, or cul­ture, we must ad­vo­cate for sport as a pol­i­cy pri­or­i­ty. Sto­ry­telling gives us the ev­i­dence: fan emo­tion, gen­er­a­tional pride, and eco­nom­ic rip­ple ef­fects on game days. Now, it’s time to turn those sto­ries in­to lob­by­ing pow­er.

We need co­or­di­nat­ed cam­paigns—con­tent that’s not just vi­ral but strate­gic. Slow-mo­tion videos and match­day doc­u­men­taries, yes—but backed by clear asks to min­istries, cor­po­rate T&T, and sport­ing or­gan­i­sa­tions: Sup­port youth leagues. Re­open com­mu­ni­ty fields. Fund coach­ing ed­u­ca­tion. Fix sta­di­um lights and sur­faces.

We don’t need pity. We need pol­i­cy. And we have the peo­ple to back it.

So if FI­FA, UE­FA and CON­CA­CAF gave us the tools, Trinidad and To­ba­go gave me and oth­ers the pur­pose. And now I un­der­stand: our sto­ries aren’t just to be told—they’re to be used. Used to spark ac­tion. Used to de­mand bet­ter. Used to make sport and foot­ball a na­tion­al pri­or­i­ty—not just on the pitch, but in Par­lia­ment. Our vic­to­ries go be­yond the pitch – be­cause when we win, Trinidad and To­ba­go wins.

Ed­i­tor’s note

Shaun Fuentes is the head of TTFA Me­dia and mar­ket­ing. He was a FI­FA me­dia of­fi­cer at the 2010 FI­FA World Cup in South Africa and the 2013 FI­FA U-20 World Cup in Turkey. He has trav­elled to 88 coun­tries dur­ing his jour­ney in sport. The views ex­pressed are sole­ly his and not a rep­re­sen­ta­tion of any or­gan­i­sa­tion. shaunfuentes@ya­hoo.com