With his nails-tough style -- and, of course, that ubiquitous hair -- Juan Toja made a huge splash for FC Dallas in his first season in MLS. Rick Yeatts/MLS via Getty Images

By Ridge Mahoney, Special to SI.com, Soccer America

They were a long way from home when they first spotted their newest teammate and, though none of them had ever seen him before, it didn't take long to figure out which of the players in the Atlético Paranaense dining room they'd soon be meeting.

A distinctive mullet that soon would light up MLS matches identified Juan Carlos Toja to FC Dallas players during their 2007 preseason trip to Brazil, yet soon enough they realized in this case, whatever impressions that image might suggest didn't fit the man.

"A lot of players in South America wear their hair that way," says FC Dallas coach Steve Morrow, who himself keeps very short what little he has left, of his Colombian midfielder. "You'd think he'd be like a rock star, but he's not that way at all, just the opposite in fact."

Toja, in fact, is perplexed and somewhat embarrassed by all the attention lavished on his mane, which just months after his first MLS match prompted club management to stage "Juan Toja Wig Night," an honor previously bestowed upon a fellow countryman, former superstar Carlos Valderrama. Aside from their distinctive 'dos and shared heritage, they're as different as attacking midfielders can be.

"I like to play and score, and I like to fight, win tackles. I like to do both," says Toja, who turns 23 this month and came to MLS after a difficult loan spell with Argentine power River Plate. "I'm trying always to do the best work, day by day, practice, practice, practice, game by game, play 100 percent. Sometimes you can play good with the ball, sometimes it's a happier day, but if you run and you fight, you can do something."

Family values

The style Toja brings to MLS has nothing to do with stardom or fame or fanciness, though he can ping a great pass, drill an accurate shot or slip a tough tackle. His drive and determination are fueled by admiration for his mother, Martha, who raised two sons on her own since they were young, and memories of brother Sebastián, the victim of a pool accident that left him in a vegetative state for years before he died.

"That was terrible for me, and it was terrible for my mom," remembers Toja, who was 5 when his brother fell into a pool during a party and lay at the bottom for several minutes before being rushed to the hospital.

Juan's father left the family at about the same time, leaving Juan and Martha to care for Sebastián. The vigil lasted nearly nine years, during which time Martha supported her sons by selling cars. Playing professional soccer, which he's been doing since joining Santa Fe in his native Bogota when he was 16, enables Juan to repay her.

"For her, it was so difficult," says Toja. "My mom is incredible, really incredible, because she work a lot to try to make me feel happy, to make money, to take care of problems, to look after me and my brother, she was just amazing.

"I went to school, I had a normal education, I was so happy. Growing up I was always with my mom. I have a good relation with my father, of course, but my mom is my mom. And now I can give back to my mom. Now she doesn't work."

Work is the essence of Toja's game. His toughness is leavened by touch and talent, imbued perhaps by both of his grandfathers, who played professional soccer and represented the national teams of Uruguay and Colombia. Talent runs in the family, and so does being left-footed, a commodity, then and now, that ratchets up the value of any player, but especially attackers.