The Secret to Being Rich

Back in December, I was grappling with the idea of continuing my career as a professional soccer player or retiring. I’m 35 years old, and “retire” is a word that means something very different than what it means for most people who throw it around.

Here’s a typical conversation I have with my knees:

“We’re going to do this again, okay?”

“No, we really don’t think it’s a good…”

“Okay, great, thanks for your input.”

When my former coach Brian Sørenson called me about playing for a club in Denmark this season, I had to really convince my knees it would be okay.

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What's Next? Life After the United Soccer Coaches Convention

The first time I attended the (then) NSCAA Convention was way back in 2002. I was 18 years old and accepting an award for NSCAA High School All-American, a huge accomplishment in my short-lived life up until that point. 
The convention was in Philadelphia that year; it snowed like crazy the day of the awards banquet. I don’t remember much about it aside from accepting my award. My mom and grandparents came with me. They don’t remember it. 

I didn’t think much of the whole event at that time in my life. I thought it was just for giving out All-American awards (oops – living in my bubble). 

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3 Places I Find Myself

Google says to start blog titles with a number. So, I did. Let me know if that got you to click.

Anyway.

Winter mornings in Connecticut can test you. If you can dodge the punch of the darkness at 6am and dip past the cold of being the first awake in the house, then you have a chance. I don’t have anywhere to be early in the am. I just work best between the hours of 6am and 12pm. After that, my productivity level is a crapshoot. 

This morning, I peeled the covers off my body, exposing myself to the air. My first thought was coffee, even though my first thought should have been bathroom. I always wonder how we as a human race can forget that we have to pee and then are surprised when we forget anything else.

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From Blacktop to the Pros: How playing with the boys changed my life

As I crutched through the muddy grounds at a youth soccer field to see my 7-year-old cousin play, I realized that my arm strength was likely not at professional athlete status. Nonetheless, I made it to the furthest field at the complex, plopped down on a cooler and made it in time for kickoff. 

I squinted to figure out where my little cousin Mikey was on the field. He is one of the smaller ones out there, but I spot him easily wearing his green Nikes and his rec glasses. The play was better than expected. One player dribbled through the crowd several times to set himself up for a breakaway. Mikey always tried to pass the ball when he got it. He doesn’t like when other players don’t pass or trip him when he dribbles. 

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It is Art

I sat down on the doctors table, looking down at my legs dangling off the side. I wondered if I should press the button on the side to lower the table or just let them dangle. 

I let them dangle. 

Emma, the nurse, walked in and sat down at her computer. 

She had dark skin and a round face. Her accent didn’t give her away, aside from the fact that she was maybe born somewhere else and moved here years ago.

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A Little Lesson For 2018

Almost every year around this same exact time, I get sick. I like to think it’s my body’s way of rewarding me after a long hard year. You see, if I’m sick then I can’t go out for any type of New Year’s celebration. Not that I would anyway, but at least if you’re sick no one will hassle you. Not that anyone hassles me anyway. 

It just makes me feel better to not feel good. 

So, I get a few days to do nothing. Aside from read, write and watch games on TV. 

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Live As a Learner

Last evening, I poured myself a cup of coffee in my Batman mug, sat down at my desk and did something I haven’t done in ten years – homework. 

I started the online MA program for English and Creative Writing at Southern New Hampshire University, which is something I’ve wanted to do since I graduated. Only until recently with the Boston Breakers partnership with SNHU did it become a reality. 

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Preseason with the Breakers: The short version

A week into preseason with the Boston Breakers and yes, I’m sore, tired and perhaps I’m not sure what day it is, but there’s much more to update you on than the condition of my mind and body.

Just kidding.

That’s all there is. Preseason, for those of you who have never experienced it, is similar to spring cleaning. Spring cleaning is something you prepare for beforehand, yet it’s always harder than you think. It’s getting the rust and dust out of places there shouldn’t be rust and dust and figuring out what you should keep and what you should get rid of. In soccer, it’s realizing some bad habits might have snuck in and getting rid of them, while developing new, better ones. It’s a lot of excitement in your mind but physically taxing enough to make you think, man I came into this guns a blazin and now my guns are a [GOOGLE SEARCH: something that rhymes with blazin and means tired.]

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Why I'm Still Playing Professional Soccer

I have a confession to make right off the bat. I’m not good at a lot of things. I’m consistently settled in bed for the night before I’ve flossed (judge away). I like chicken parms more than I should. I don’t always respond to texts. There’s a long list. 

I’m okay with the fact that I’m not perfect, even though I never settle for not being perfect. It’s confusing. 

I think that one of the most fascinating aspects of life is the idea that we want something we will never attain: perfection. Whatever that even means to us. 

Perfection is a silly word. It’s possible perhaps in bowling and I don’t even know what else. Yet we aim for it in almost everything we do. 

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Offseason Thoughts: Is it worth it? Let me work it.

The last time I wrote, I was living and playing in Sweden and we had just clinched a spot in Damallsvenkan for 2017. Since then a lot has happened. Let me fill you in quick.

I decided not to return to Kvarnsvedens IK for next year. It was a great opportunity to play at a high level and a good reminder that the end of something can often times be the beginning of something else. 

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