'Tis the Season

The NWSL season has officially kicked off in the form of preseason training camps. For anyone who doesn’t know what preseason means, it means the season before the season. Life as a soccer player is literally just seasons before seasons before seasons. We have offseason, pre-preseason, preseason, season, post-season. It’s ridiculous. There are times where I cannot precisely identify which time period I’m in. 

Anyway, I know I’m in preseason because it says it on our emails from our coaches. For the Washington Spirit, preseason consists of several different factors that all tie together. We are physically putting in the work on the field and in the gym, mentally learning styles, formations and all the tactical goodies that come along with the game and all the while meeting new people, learning their tendencies as people and as players. Oh, and also trying to stay sane and not get injured.

A successful preseason is one where a player makes the team, improves their game and fitness level, learns the tactics and gets to know their teammates… and doesn’t get injured. Last preseason I was close to having a successful preseason until the last little bit snuck up on me. During the last week of preseason I tore my ACL in a training session. I went to take a shot, planted (scored) and felt my ACL disappear like a real bad magic trick. Like sawing the woman in half, but for real, sawing the woman in half. 

So that was almost a year ago. In that year, my ACL has been fixed, my mind has been strengthened and my body is starting to get back to where it was before, maybe better. 

Training on my own was pretty standard. I knew what I was doing, everything was very controlled and I didn’t have anything off to the side tempting me.  Since I’ve been back training with the team I’ve experienced a lot of different things.

Now, I get to warm up with the team. (WHICH IS AWESOME). Then I get to do some small technical drills (WHICH IS REALLY AWESOME). Then I get to do some possession drills or keep away where I’m noncontact and I can just float around and not defend (DREAMS ARE MADE OF THIS STUFF). 

But then I have to go off to the side and do a different workout while the team gets to play to big goals or do 2v2s or play full field, or an intersquad scrimmage. I look to my setup of cones and balls and lines of running and then look back over to the team playing and feel like the puppy that no one wants to throw a tennis ball to. 

After a while I get over it because I’m breathing so hard that my vision is out of focus, but for a little while, it’s torture. 
I’m at the point where I feel really close. Like it’s in reaching distance. I see where all the work has gotten me. I see the value of doing the little exercises and icing and resting. I appreciate the fact that I can play, even just a little, because at one point I couldn’t even get out of my bed without my mom’s assistance.  

Patience.  Even more so than hard work and mental toughness, patience is going to be the key to getting back to a point where I’m good enough to be out there without risking re-injuring it. Patience is going to keep me sane while watching my team’s games and doing my extra fitness alone. 

Patience, with myself, and my sometimes- though rare- bad touch or missed shot that might occur as a result of coming back from an injury. 

I have to remind myself to go easy on myself sometimes. 

Patience. Is a virtue. Is an idiom. Is real. 

I’ll end with this. I write so that the world can be a better place. And because my friends don’t listen to me anymore. JK. They have to. 

If you’re a player or a coach or a parent or anything and you see someone coming back from an injury, if nothing else, just ask how he/she is doing. Once someone is able to walk and run and even play, it looks like nothing is wrong anymore. But from experience I can tell you, that long after things look good physically, the body has ways of reminding you that you had surgery. That things aren’t really the same. 

Maybe I wouldn’t have learned this if I hadn’t gotten injured and sometimes you have to walk (limp) in someone else’s shoes to get to that point. But I’m glad this happened now. I know I’ll be better from it and I hope I can help other people be better too.

Major shout-out to people who have been through a lot in their careers, especially you Jordan Angeli, you’re a hero kid. 

That's What You Get

As the 2015 NWSL season approaches, every possible thought and emotion plays out in my mind. Excitement is evident. Nerves are natural. The reality of being back on the field with players I didn’t get the opportunity to compete with last year is at the forefront of my thoughts. Wondering how Mark Parsons and the Washington Spirit plan on promoting my comeback tour is a close second. (Nine cities over six months. Free headbands at the entrance. Long intros and ) 

Coming in third though is my precious little baby knee. She has been through so much over the past year and I can’t help but think that the next few months will be full of ups and downs for her. I think about her all the time, but I don’t need the same. 

Before I can get on the field with the Spirit though, there are many pieces to the puzzle that need to be solved. When I’m training now, or doing anything really, I think about my knee a lot. 

“Will she be okay if I plant a little harder here?”
“She is in pain, should I stop for a second?” 
“OMG, I slipped on the top stair, her ACL is gone again, OMG, OMG.”

I’m sure it’s normal to think that way. And to think of a knee as a she. Knee-she. 

It’s my way of feeling more connected though. Like I have to take care of her. I feel as though I’m well prepared for this kind of responsibility. I have cats and I babysit a 3-year-old more often than I’d like to admit. (He calls it hanging out, but please don’t believe him.) 

Each day I wake up and say good morning. I move the kneecap around and make sure my scar doesn’t get too stiff. I ice and stim every day. I stretch and foam roll and do all the things so her surrounding friends can help her feel better too. 

I say no to a mall trip because she’s so not in the mood. 
I avoid the stairs and stay home if it’s snowing. (Okay, maybe I did those things before my injury). You get the idea. 

But that stuff is easy now because there are pretty obvious signs that she needs care. She’s not afraid to show me how she’s feeling right now.

I know we’re not supposed to give with the intention of receiving. It’s just that, maybe that’s not a real concept. We get what we give. If I take care of my knee and do everything I’m supposed to, there’s a better chance I’ll get something good out of it. And that’s the only way I can play soccer at a high level again. 

I imagine it’s what a ventriloquist deals with. They have to take care of their dummies so their dummies give them back… okay never mind, bad example. Too much American Horror Story.

I imagine it’s like a baseball player and his glove. (That’s a little better right?) Oil it, take care of it, and it’s going to give you the performances you need. 

And! Like a car. People wonder why they have so many car problems. I wonder how they wonder that when they don’t take care of their cars. It seems simple right.

So in a month or so when I’m back with the Spirit and my knee is probably feeling pretty good, I need to remember that just because she’s not showing pain or weakness, she still needs to be taken care of. She’s been through a lot this year and even if I might forget sometimes, she never does.

Nothing Changed At All

Sometimes I just need a song to help me organize my thoughts. Because despite my best efforts, usually someone else can say it better than I can. In this case, Bastille – Pompeii – “but if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all… and if you close your eyes does it almost feel like you’ve been here before.”

This song fits well when we hang out with friends we haven’t seen in a long time, but pick up right where we left off.

Or if we have a feeling of déjà vu possibly, from a place or a smell or a sound.

This song came on while I was juggling the other day and though I continued to juggle I lost the moment for while. It was the feeling, mentally and physically, that when I’m juggling each day, it actually feels like nothing has changed at all. It feels like my body is in perfect condition and my mind is focused on every touch of the ball and the way it spins and the number that I’m counting in my head. Just like it’s supposed to.

When I juggled before my ACL thingy, I was pretty damn good. The ball didn’t get away from me often and if it did, I was quick enough on my feet to get after it.

When I juggle now, I have to be close to perfect, because if it gets too far, I can’t reach for it or dive for it, I just have to let it go. And that’s not a feeling I enjoy very much. It’s hard to just let something go. To not try for it. To watch it drop even though every ounce of your body wants to go for it. But alas, it drops and I have to start over again.

In between the drop and starting back up again, there’s some frustration. Sometimes I kick the ball really hard against the wall. Sometimes I just walk away and get a drink. Most of the time, I just grab the ball and start again.

Once it’s up again, it’s the same thoughts as before – like nothing has changed at all.

There are a lot of things I have to work on right now to get back on the field. I need to run with better form, do a single leg squat better, get stronger physically (and mentally) and learn, more than anything else, to trust my body again. For me, juggling is the one thing I feel like I have the most control over. It’s something I feel I’m getting better at each day and something I feel like I’m good at.

That’s been a tough pill to swallow. Not being good at things I used to be good at. The time it takes to reteach our bodies and minds is different for each task. Running is hard. Lunges are hard. Squats are hard. Jumping is hard.

Juggling isn’t hard. Juggling is me at five years old with a ball in my front yard. It’s me learning the game all over again. Setting juggling goals and beating them. Calling my mom and saying a number and just saying it over and over again until she knows what I’m talking about. Because that’s what my life was like when I was younger. I was obsessed with my juggling record. And now, I’m right back there again. Starting from what seems like scratch. Trying to build myself back up the only way I ever knew how… just the ball and me.

I used to think of soccer as an escape. When I played, I didn’t think about life and the little things that can make it difficult from day to day. I used to think I needed soccer to refocus and get out my frustration.

I didn’t really know where I went when I played though. Where did I escape to? I had no idea until recently. It takes me to my purest days, when soccer was all that mattered. I’m five years old again. I’m in my front yard juggling. If my eyes were actually closed when I played, I would have no idea where I was or who I was. I would just be playing soccer. Just like I always have. And just like I always will.

Until I’m back playing full, juggling is pretty freaking awesome. So is passing against the wall and dribbling and beating a 3-year-old in wall ball. As long as soccer, in any form, brings me back to my purest, I’ll always want to go there. I’ll always want what nothing else can give me: freedom.

I Choose You

I had an interaction with a sales man at a phone case store. He looked at my extra battery charger iPhone case (because I use it a lot okay. I have a lot of friends)

He said it wasn't very fun.

I replied with "It's functional. And you can't spell functional with out fun buddy."

He said he had nothing to come back with and with that I left the store.

My brother said that I was acting sassy. Maybe I was. But that sales man did not appeal to me in the slightest. Telling me I'm boring is not the way to my heart, in case anyone was wondering.

The way to my heart, not surprisingly, is through me.

I happened to be wearing some very brand new Nike runners, my Washington Spirit warm up pants and ever-so-badassly swagger-limped around his store. There were so many things he could have said just by looking at me.

If he had mentioned anything aside from me having a boring cell phone I probably would have stayed longer and personalized an iPhone case of the No. 8 or myself or Batman or something. But he didn't get that opportunity.

If I really want that now, which is possible, I can just order it online or maybe draw it with marker myself. No matter what, it's probable that I won't go back to that store.

There's an important lesson to be learned here. A lesson everyone is fully aware of but rarely think about: we have more options than ever. We can go to any store to buy something. There are around 10 stores alone that sell running shoes in a mall. Ten stores! That sell roughly the same shoes. What separates one from the other?

Customer service. How we are treated as customers.

Aside from maybe EZ Pass and a few other companies, we get to choose who we want to buy from and work with because we live in this beautiful country. If someone is nice to me I will probably buy from them until they give me reason not to. That's just how it works.

So that's just with consumerism. What about life?

Yeah, well life works that now way too. Especially with people.

Guess what folks, social media, cell phones, the internet-- allows for us to stay in touch with people, make new friends as much or as little as possible and be a little more picky with who we want in our lives. Some might argue this is a bad thing. Maybe we don't treat each other as well because we're all disposable. Back in the way back when, the people in your neighborhood or the people you went to school with were your friends. It was hard to get away from them and it was harder to meet new people in the big wide open.

Now, we can be friends with anyone from the person that lives next door to the person who likes the same song as us that lives in Japan. It really makes no difference where someone lives or what their background is, we can be friends with anyone.

And friendship is such a loose term. We're friends. Yeah just on Facebook though. We're friends, but just work friends. We're friends, but we're just on the same team. We're friends, but just like study friends. We're friends, but just going out friends. It's crazy. You can have a friend for every day of the week. (Just don't make them wear labeled underwear or anything)

So we can pick and choose who we want to be friends with. We can cut people from our lives easily because we can just go to Facebook and see who lives in the same town or something. Or if we break up with someone we can go to cuddleparty.com and make do with what comes up there. I mean I don't recommend that but wtf is that website seriously.

Anyway. I have a few conclusions. I know my generation is very "me" focused and doing all things later than our parents like getting jobs and getting married and having kids. Because we are living our dreams and doing us and finding ourselves and whatever cliche you want to throw out there. But really, maybe we just care about ourselves more than we care about others sometimes and that makes it hard? I don't know

I do know a few things. Just because I have lived them. I know that we keep people in our lives, we choose them over others because they bring something that others cannot. The thing about a product is that you can get the same exact thing somewhere else. People, on the other hand, are literally one in a billion. You can't get me by the dozen unfortunately. But just imagine that for a second.

We choose the people in our lives for a reason, we might as well pay attention so we know what that reason is and whether it is actually taking us in the direction we want to go in this life.

I've spent hours (legit) picking out shoes. Measuring one up against the others. Trying them on, pulling my pant leg up, flexing my calf, asking everyone in the store if they like them, checking my bank account to see if it "works", asking my mom if it can be an early birthday present four months before. I think it's cool if we do that with people too. Because you know, if the shoe fits...yada, yada.. but if it doesn't. Well that's actually okay too.

Go Ahead, Jump

"All you're gonna do is jump up on this little step." "Okay, no problem"

"Whenever you're ready, go ahead."

"Okay."

As I stood an inch away from the step, loaded in the jumping position, I couldn't help but think of all the things that could go wrong. What if I don't land right? What if I tear it again? What if I tear the other one?

I told myself to stop worrying so much and just jump. I yelled at myself in my head to just jump. I finally pleaded with myself, please just jump, just this once.

My feet stayed on the ground as if they were superglued to it.

It wasn't going to happen today.

"It's okay, I'm not too worried about it, let's do something else."

"But you know I'm going to think about this all weekend."

"It's okay, really."

I wasn't okay with it then and I'm still not. It has consumed me all weekend. Why couldn't I jump up on that small step? My mind was saying yes. It gave my body all the appropriate signals that it was okay. But my feet wouldn't budge.

They say it takes years to build up trust but only seconds to ruin it. Up until April of 2014, my body had done as it was supposed to. Thirty years of building up trust, and one second to destroy it. So now when my brain tells my feet to jump they're like "yeah well we don't know how knee is going to react, so we're opting out." Like knee is this awful thing. But it's not even knees fault really. It's a combination of hamstring and quad and calf and everyone who didn't do their job that day. It's everyone. So now, we have a whole bunch of body parts that aren't as loyal as I thought and my brain has to convince everyone to figure their shit out again.

But how?

As I'm writing this I think there has to be a simple solution but there isn't. I can listen to Van Halen's "Jump" all I want, it's probably not the difference maker. I can visualize myself jumping up on that thing, but that only gets me so far. I have to TRUST again. Even if that means I'm going to get hurt again.

Even if my body were to sit me down and say I'm never going  to do that again, it still wouldn't be enough. I need visual proof. But to get visual proof I need to get through the first road block. I need to convince myself it is going to be okay.

This tasks seems harder than trying to convince my grandmother that texting is IN ADDITION to talking on the phone, not INSTEAD OF. She refuses. It's impossible.

Aside from the jumping, the building of the muscles is a long process. I'm slowly coming back to my old self, or should I say, my new self. As the muscles grow and I start to see definition again, my mind starts to remember the immense confidence it once walked with. When you limp around slowly for months, you start to lose your swagger a bit. (Unless you have a pimp limp). I've been insecure and scared when I walk. A wrong step and who knows what will happen.

Once while I was walking in New York City a woman ran right into me and I staggered to find my balance. It took a second and I was back on my feet and realized that I was just fine. It was almost good to get hit. Not that I welcome that - don't get any ideas people- but it made me realize I could be resilient. The difference between that incident and jumping is I had no control over it. With the jumping, I'm the only one in control.

I asked my PT Randy what would happen if say I had to run, like I had to run away from someone. He said I would be able to run, just wouldn't be able to cut or anything, and might be in some pain. But I could run if I had to.

So what if I had to jump? What if there was a spider? haha. A really, really big spider the size of a mouse. Or maybe a fire. I don't know. I think of all these weird things. But the woman bumping into me and the jump, or lack thereof a jump, made me think about necessity. Doing something because we have to do it. At some point someone will say if I don't jump I can't run and if I don't run I can't play soccer and maybe that's what it will take. Until then, I'm at the roadblock. Waiting for someone to pick it up knowing that no one will.

If only I could just... jump over it. Man, that would make things easier.

Keep Your Standard

Hi. Did you miss me? Okay. I am going to write a blog now. I currently have some of my club players playing high school soccer (I won't get into this, but in Connecticut players are not allowed to play club and high school at the same time) and they are frustrated that the level isn't where they want it to be, but more than that, the commitment and desire to improve is different from their own.

Similarly, I've had recent conversations with friends about playing against weaker teams and whether it's helpful for development or not.

What these two things have in common is the idea that sometimes we find ourselves in an environment of lesser quality than we're used to being in. The standard is lower and so expectations are lower.

Despite what you may think, I haven't always been so wise. I have had to go through quite a bit to figure out all of my life philosophies as I evolve as a person. It was just  seven years ago I heard a story that changed my thoughts about what environment you're in.

There are sayings like you're a big fish in a small pond or small fish in a big pond, but regardless of the size of the pond, you're still you and you're still there. Unless you're a Megalodon, then you can have any body of water you'd like.  Like I'm not getting involved there.

One of my former coaches, who also happened to be quite a professional player himself, Chris Bart-Williams, told me a story that I'll never forget and repeat to people all the time.

He said he was playing in a game where his team was crushing the other team, like 8-0 or something. Scouts on the sideline were interested in him from that game because they felt he kept his level high throughout the game regardless of the score or the level of the other team.

I love that story for a lot of reasons. One, you are always in control of yourself, no matter what situation arises. Two, you never know who is watching. Three, just because other people let their level slide, doesn't mean you can't raise them up by keeping your level. And four, it applies to so many things, not just soccer.

This made me rethink everything I had ever done. As a result, I've changed my opinion about how to train and who to train with, how I evaluate other people/players and the resources I need to be successful.

For me, now, a professional environment is in my head and something I can control. I'll always be the best I can be and try to raise the level of others around me, whether it's pushing in chairs when I leave a restaurant (it's amazing how people follow that lead), or saying thank you to a teammate for grabbing the bag of balls, small things that we do make an impact on people around us.

We have a rule at the club I work for that no one is to stand with their hands on their hips or their arms folded. I think that posture sends a poor message. When in conversation with someone, it looks closed off or that you're not interested, and on the field it looks like you're tired. I used to do it all the time not thinking about it, but once I saw the difference it makes when I speak to someone, I thought it was a simple thing that could be changed. No one holds me to that standard anywhere else except when the club is all together. But I've found myself full aware of my behavior when I'm playing for a team or when I'm casually talking to someone, and I hold myself to that standard.

It's hard when you want people to be a certain way and you can't understand why they're not. I have found it unproductive to convince people "this is the way to be", especially in terms of being professional and keeping a high standard when it's easy not to. Most people are quick to get away with things if they can. The best way to help others around you reach a higher standard is to be that standard every chance you get, and be consistent.

It's not always fun to play in games when the scoreline is 8-0. It's not fun when you want to take high school soccer seriously and players around don't. We will all be in these situations at some point in our lives, so we have to make something of them. We can't let something pass without gaining from it.

Over the past two years, I've had the luxury of creating an environment I've always wanted in a youth soccer club. Players and coaches are passionate about what they do and our set of core values is something we stick to no matter what the circumstances are. We're still learning so much and have a ways to go, but it's easy to do these things when you're in charge. The big challenge is to do them when you're not.

Think Like A Freak

I haven't written in over a month, yet it seems much longer. I guess time goes slow when you can only do some of the things you enjoy, and not all of them. But that's neither her nor there or anywhere. I've been able to read quite a bit in the meantime. Of the many on my current list, I just finished Think Like A Freak from the guys that wrote Freakonomics. (I liked it a lot) They talk about what it takes to think like a freak. Looking at problem solving from different points of view, learning how to say "I don't know" and many other things.

The end of the book sent a strong message, one that most people might not agree with, but makes sense to me. They talk about how quitting something isn't necessarily a bad thing, yet it will almost always have a negative connotation. Quitting goes against everything we're taught. We have to suck it up and get through it. If we start something we have to finish it. But why?

There's usually one reason around it. Being seen as a quitter is frowned upon. It's embarrassing. It's the same thing as giving up. Which isn't something people do, especially Americans and athletes.

When I was 15 years old, a sophomore in high school, I was a two-sport athlete. I played basketball and soccer. Really I called myself a two-sport athlete because I was one and a half into soccer and only half into basketball. I wanted to play indoor soccer during basketball season, but my coach wasn't too fond of that idea. Plus I would kick the basketball all the time and that would piss everyone off.

Now, let's be real. I'm 5'3. I was okay at basketball, but I was never going to be anything special. Plus, I wasn't too crazy about it. (Except the one time I megged a player on an inbounds pass - that was awesome) So I had to make a hard decision that year: quit in the middle of the season, or stick it out and be miserable for another few months.

I still don't know how I had that conversation with a coach when I was only 15 years old. It seems nearly impossible to do even now, but I did it. I did what I felt was best and left the team.

From then on I felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulder. Yeah, I got some slack for it and the coach said "She will never play for me again" - but looking back, it was the best decision I ever made. I was able to focus on school and soccer and not worry about basketball. Because that's what it become. A worry.

People couldn't understand why I would do such a thing. Thankfully, I don't have to explain myself to people. I only have to answer to me.

I won't sit here and say I endorse quitting. Because I don't. What I do endorse though is not being stuck in something that makes you unhappy. I agree with the guys from Think Like A Freak because I experienced the benefits of making that hard decision. I let down my teammates and coaches. And my family a little. But I think they're over it by now.

If I quit and did nothing with my time, then maybe it wouldn't have been as justified. But I got that off my mind so I could focus on what I truly loved.

As a sometimes adult now, I face quitting from time to time. Like during workouts. Especially now when my workout consists of things that only four months ago, wouldn't even be a warmup for me. Sometimes the exercises are so tedious and yet so painful, that I just want to stop. But I don't. I know sticking through this will be worth it. There's no question about it.

But it's not always easy to determine which ones will be worth the ending and which won't be. That's the beauty of life. All we have is our gut feeling. We can listen to it or ignore it. Either way, it's always our choice.

(I apologize for quitting before ending this, but I didn't feel like finishing it) I wanted to get an ice cream instead. Update: I don't regret it.

Listen To Your (Brain)

As I've said in previous posts, I'm up for the task of experiencing every ounce of emotion that comes along with this injury. So far I have felt things that I have never felt before, and for that, it has been difficult. Every time a new emotion arises, I have to figure out what it is and how to handle it.

Recently I've been struggling with the idea that my body isn't listening to my brain. When I tell my quad to fire, it doesn't. When I tell my knee to bend, it doesn't. And when I tell my ACL to repair itself it just usually laughs at me.

It's frustrating to say the least.

Usually when my brain tells my body to do something it listens. Like jump or run or nutmeg that player.

My left leg has become a rebellious teenager.

Luckily, I've figured out how to deal with it emotionally. I went back into coaching.

When I first came home and started thinking about how I was going    to get through this process, the first thing I said to myself was that I was not going    to coach. It was too much for me to handle and being near the field would just make things harder.

One night, I decided I had to see how the players were doing and their progress over the past few months I missed being in preseason.

To my surprise, I felt better.

You see, I was able to tell someone to do something, and they did it. I got the same feeling from from a different action.

"Track back" "Get stuck in" "Open up" "Play the way you're facing"

All things I can't do right now. All things my brain wants to tell my body to do. All things I'm physically not capable of doing right now... but they are.

So for now, I've found a temporary solution. Someone is listening to my brain, even if it's not me.

I've also had to improve my communication skills tremendously being back on the field coaching. As a player/coach, it's very easy to demonstrate things I want players to do. Obviously, not being to able to show someone how to do something means you have to be perfect in explaining yourself.

Analyzing my thoughts. Then talking through them. Seeing what works for players and what doesn't. It's been a learning process for them and for me.

Over the weekend, the U16 team I coach won the State Cup and it felt like I won the State Cup right along with them. They did everything the coaches asked of them. And that was an incredibly gratifying feeling.

The good thing for me is I still would rather be out on the field playing than on the sideline coaching. That means I'm still motivated to come back. I'm just thankful I've found an avenue to get me through this process until my body wants to listen to my brain again.

Until then, I've realized how important it is for young players to be coachable and receptive to the things coaches tell them. Not just for their sake, but for the coach's sake too.  Coachable players make coaching enjoyable. It has also been the most motivating part of my recovery process so far.

(AND ICE) I basically live for ice.

One day it will be the ability to walk normal. Then run. Then kick a ball. Then a full training session. And then play a game.

For now, I just need players that want to get better. So my brain can continue to demand a high standard with someone living up to that standard.

Baby steps. Until I can play again.

Giving Me Something I Can Feel

Yesterday I watched the German Cup Final with Bayern Munich vs. Borussia Dortmund. In the dying seconds of the game I watched like a little kid in front of cartoons as Bayern forward Thomas Müller received a through ball, dribbled on the diagonal across a defender, rounded the goalkeeper and slotted home the goal that would put the game away. His reaction following was that of a school boy's. Which is the same as that of a passionate footballer.

Which is the same as passionate coaches and fans. As you can see in this video *skip to 7:15.

It gave me the reminder I needed that although soccer is the reason that I'm injured right now, soccer is also the reason that I have felt. Like really felt things. Pure joy. Disappointment. Frustration. Determination. Fear. Swagger. Nerves and anxiety. Growth and progress. It's the teacher we never wanted. The tests before the studying. A lot of times you have to just figure things out on your own. What makes you calm before games? How do you get your confidence back? How do you handle personal and team frustration?

You get to work through stuff all the time. Sometimes you get to experience that pure joy. That feeling that brings you to the brink of "it can't get better than this". And sometimes you don't even want to get out of bed in the morning.

All those emotions come and go. Lately I've been on the scared and frustrated side. I should start walking soon. I am two weeks out from my meniscus surgery. I should be able to leave my crutches, but I'm really quite scared. I'm frustrated I'm having a mental block. I'm not used to it. Usually I can just get up and practice until I get it right. This is a little different. It takes more than repetition. It takes a complete mental makeover that needs to happen as I'm going  through this. It also takes courage.

Courage is something I don't think about often, because anytime I do something in soccer I just think I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. Taking risks is part of the game. When I don't do it, I'm not playing well. When I do, I'm just doing what I do.

Courage now is something I can't really locate in my tool box. I'm looking for it. Like a blind man needing that last IKEA piece. But I'm not going to give up (self talk). Because I do have other tools to get me there. Like determination. And yes I do have some swagger left.

I'm relying on those things to help me get past this minor setback in my life. I need to use the goods I have to find my courage. I can do it. And I will. (more self talk)

These little situations will continue to arise as I go through the rest of PT for my meniscus and then again with my ACL surgery. Figuring out what you're capable of is scary, because it means doing things you've never done before. That means finding ways to compensate for what you might be lacking as a person. Which is also difficult to admit.

My PT guy, Chuck, said something enlightening the other day, "people come into this, some determined and some not, but everyone gets through it." That gave me some confidence to keep going of course, but it also gave me a little motivation that I don't want to be someone who's not determined. That's not the #ACLegacy I want to leave behind.

Regardless of the process, and all the feelings that come with it, I will always come back to the beautiful game. Right now, I can't physically go out and do all the things that usually bring those positives out of me. The joy, the swagger, the pride in what I do... but I can watch on as others do it. And what I'm realizing, it isn't too far off from what I feel when I'm playing myself.

When Müller rounded that keeper, I knew exactly what was going to happen next. I knew he would slot it with his left foot. I knew it was going in. It felt like I was experiencing the whole thing with him. The non-existent thought process. The rush of being in the 18-yard box. The final touches. And then, the big celebration after. It was a rush for me. And as long as watching the game brings those kinds of emotions out of me, I know I'll be able to keep all these feelings for as long as I live.

If we are able to feel something once, we can usually find it again. It's not always the conventional ways that work. Sometimes you have to dig in your tool box and hammer a nail with the back end of the screw driver. You know the end result. The nail goes in, a little crooked, but it's in and it works. And then two hours later, the hammer turns up under your sink, next to the screws, right where you left it.

Simply the Best

Okay, here it goes. If you know me at all, then you know what this blog is all about. And if you don't know, now you know... We all for the most part think we have the best mom in the world. It's probably one of the most biased competitions this world will ever face. The cool thing about the competition is that each mom probably is the best, for that individual. Mostly because that mom raised them to think that way. So what most of this comes down to is a lot brainwashing. Touche` mothers.

I have indeed fallen victim to such brainwashing. I believe, without a single doubt, that my mother is the best in the world. She is the best for me. Because she made me this way.

In my experience, most people seem to go through these phases: Young child "My mommy is the best mommy" Teenager "Why can't my mom be more like those moms?" Young Adult "I don't really need my mom like I used to" Adult "My mommy is the best mommy"

I haven't necessarily gone through these phases, but it seems like most people do. Because most people want their independence from an early age, and well, I'm 30 and still live at home. By choice. Because I don't want to leave my mom.

For all you thinkers out there, you can say it... it's pretty obvious, I have attachment issues. When I was young I was the one clinging to my mom's leg out in public. I preferred to hang out with my mom than my friends. There has rarely been a day in the past 30 years when we haven't spoke. Very rarely.

She's the person I want to be with the most. She's my numero uno.

A lot of that is public knowledge. I'm not one to hide how I feel about the people in my life. If I love you, everyone knows. If I don't love you, you're likely not in my life. Haha. Stupid. But true?

The moment I was told that I tore my ACL will be something I remember for as long as I live. I didn't cry in front of the doctor. Because I'm tough. I cried as soon as I got in my car. Because I'm not that tough. And all I kept thinking was, "I need my mom." I wasn't even processing the fact that my knee was effed up or that I wouldn't be able to play the rest of the year, because that was way too much for me at the time. The voice in my head just kept saying, "I need my mom."

That same day, I drove home to Connecticut. I needed to go home. I needed my mom. I was losing my mental balance. And I needed something to grab onto.

When I hobbled in the door that night, she was there waiting. And I just started crying again. She was there for me. She was ready to take this on with me.

Since then, we've already been through a lot. I can't get up for much, so she's been doing everything for me. And has shown that she will do anything for me. She's good at that. Showing it.

I've struggled to put my socks on, to remember if I took my meds or not (she counts them out and writes the number on my white board now) and I've struggled to get to the bathroom on my own.

It's extremely humbling to have your mother hold you up while you pee in your little cousin's kiddy potty. (He's very confused when I tell him I used his potty, but it's pretty hilarious)

Regardless, she's here with me. She makes sure I'm okay every five minutes. And wakes up in the middle of the night to make sure I don't fall when I go to pee on the big potty now. (Breaking barriers!)

It's impressive. It's inspiring. It's way more than she has to do. Even though some might argue that it's her job. It's not her job. She doesn't have to do it. She could have told me to stay in DC and get everything done there. She could have told me to suck it up and deal with the pain and be hard as hell on me.

But she knows that's not what I need right now. I'm sure I will eventually need that during this process. But not now. Not yet.

Though I never really liked these kinds of sayings, experiences like this do tell you more about people in your life than if they didn't happen. I always knew she was a great human and she's always sacrificed and worked for her kids. But the past few weeks have taught me a great lesson about the power of a mother's intuition, unconditional love and people stepping up big when they are needed.

I fell. And she was there to catch me. When I'm up again, she'll push me. And when I'm ready, she'll tell me to get my ass back on the field. Because she knows I need it. And she'll know when I'm ready for it.

So, Mom. I'm sorry you had to serve me breakfast in bed on Mother's Day. And that you had to work. But you will get a good gift, I promise! Love you. Happy Mother's Day!