“It’s not about being recognized; it’s about showing up for someone, making them feel like they matter.”
When I asked Union University soccer player Wesley Mhlanga, a junior finance major, what motivated him in his work, you would expect him to be talking about soccer — stadium lights, the thrill of the game, adrenaline from a win. Instead, he talked about working under the spotlight of fluorescent lighting in the school cafeteria.
It’s a far cry from the typical image we associate with college athletes — the ones who swagger across campus with nonchalance. Maybe their faces are plastered on school posters and their public identities are wrapped up in athleticism, stats and fandom. Maybe they show up late for class but aren’t called out, carrying an unspoken distance that sets them apart. Stereotypically, college athletes are the untouchable idols that exist on pedestals to be admired from a distance — the pinnacle of youthful greatness.
At Union, the reality looks different. Walk into the school cafeteria, ‘Cobo’, and you may be greeted by the warm smiles of some of the school’s athletes. Among them are Mhlanga and Daniel Dixon, a junior criminal justice major, who are not just teammates on the soccer field but coworkers behind the counter.
“At first, I was afraid,” Dixon said. “When you’re an athlete, there’s this image. You don’t want to see yourself in a certain position working because you think people are going to laugh at you.”
Dixon thought perhaps people would view him differently, wondering why a college athlete would be stacking dishes and serving food. But it didn’t take much for him to realize the rewards of the job.
“It’s been good for me,” he said. “It got me out of my comfort zone. I’ve met so many people I never would’ve talked to.”
For Mhlanga, working in the cafeteria started as an avenue for filling empty off-season hours. It came to mean much more than that.
“I’ve always wanted to build relationships outside of the soccer team,” Mhlanga said. “Working in Cobo lets me do that. It’s not just faces anymore — it’s names, stories.”
It’s easy to walk around a small campus and recognize a lot of faces, assume superficial things about them and move on content with shallow connections. But for Mhlanga and Dixon, working in the cafeteria meant an opportunity to interact with people every day that they wouldn’t meet otherwise.
“I have a chat with people — where they’re from, what they do,” Mhlanga said. “It’s always nice to know people and meet new people and everything.”
I knew exactly what he was talking about because I had experienced it myself. Neither of these guys knew me personally, but both of them always took the time to smile and ask how I was doing. I’ve watched them do the same to so many others. Mhlanga and Dixon, along with a few other teammates, all work in the cafeteria, and Mhlanga smiled as he explained the work in Cobo as a chance to strengthen relationships.
“We hang out for hours after work,” Mhlanga said. “We eat together and talk about everything. And on the field, it shows. Because when you work with someone every day, you learn how they think, how they handle pressure, how to communicate with them.”
Later, Dixon shared a similar sentiment.
“If you know how to work with someone in tough moments, you know how to play with them,” Dixon said. “It’s the same thing.”
With a lot of new faces and few wins, the last soccer season was discouraging for the team, and while working in the cafeteria might not be the most obvious team bonding exercise, it has become an effective one nonetheless.
“We’ve been intentional about building relationships,” Dixon said. “We started doing team Bible studies, waking up early to train together, making sure we know each other. And it’s already paying off.”
Even the team’s coach, Steven Cox, saw value in the players working together off the field.
“He encouraged it,” Dixon said. “He told us to build chemistry off the field and it’ll show up on the field, and he was right.”
Working in the cafeteria, practicing on the field and being intentional about relationships all seemed to point to a lifestyle that, contrary to the gloriously shallow archetype of college athletes, was simple, grateful and purpose-filled. It made me wonder that perhaps, in a culture where people so easily fall through the chasms of social generalizations, we could all take a page from the soccer players’ playbook and aspire to deepen relationships wherever we find them.
When your teammates are family and your fans are friends, that makes every game a little more meaningful and every cheer a little more heartfelt.
“When you’re in the middle of a tough game and you look up and see people you know in the stands, it makes a difference,” Mhlanga said. “It pushes you to give that extra 50%.”
During my freshman year, I would regularly show up at soccer games because I loved the sport. The rhythm, the strategy, the smell of turf infusing a crisp evening air — it reminded me of home. To be completely honest, I only knew a few of the players in passing and didn’t think much about who they were outside of the game. They were players, and I was just a fan.
Last semester, I noticed more faces in the stands — people who hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t because the team was suddenly winning every game; the change was subtle, but undeniably there. Curious, I asked one of them why they started showing up, and they simply said, “For Wes and Danny.”
It made sense. It wasn’t just about the game. It was about the people who gave a little piece of themselves, whether it was through a smile in the cafeteria or a kind word on a bad day. So, as the Bulldogs start up their spring season, I can go to the games knowing behind each of the jerseys is a real person with a real story. Knowing there is so much more to cheer for because they don’t just feel like stars — they feel like friends. And cheering for a friend? That’s a whole different kind of joy.