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. 

After a few minutes two girls came onto the pitch from the sideline, pony tails and all. They both jumped right into the mix, taking the ball away from the boys, dribbling up the middle of the field and passing to their teammates. The boys went in just as hard on tackles as they did with everyone else. Nothing changed. 

After the game I asked Mikey if those girls always trained with his team and he said, “no,” and that was the end of the conversation. 

Watching those girls play with the boys triggered a hell of a lot of stuff for me. Good trigger. There are good triggers. 

I sat in my bed that night with my notepad on my lap. I sit in my bed a lot with my notepad lately. Non-weight bearing after surgery. An image kept popping into my head of my elementary school blacktop. There was nothing special about the appearance. A big black square that was likely supposed to be a parking lot. Maybe it was a parking lot when the other parking lot filled. But to us it was the field. It was our kickball field. 

Elementary school recess was usually split into two groups: boys and girls. The boys would play kickball and the girls would… actually I have no idea what the girls did during recess. From the first time I can remember recess, I remember playing kickball with the boys. I grew up with the best boys. Why? Because they let me play with them. 

We played kickball and basketball and ran races and did everything that could be categorized as athletic. We had great teachers in elementary school who seemed to enjoy recess as much as we did. 

Recess progressed from kickball to soccer at some point. I can picture our teachers carrying two big, bright orange traffic cones and a typical black and white paneled soccer ball to the blacktop. Not all the boys played organized soccer, but during recess they all played. We all played. 

I wish the details were clearer. These were prior to the days of journaling for me. The important part was the way I remember feeling, like I was one of the boys. I remember feeling like I belonged. This would continue through middle school and through high school when I would play town soccer with the North Haven boy’s teams (in addition to the girl’s teams) and then train with premiere teams of South Central Premiere. I learned early that boy’s coaches were much harder on them than girl’s coaches were and I loved it. 

But there was something about playing with the boys that was different. It wasn’t that they were bigger and faster and stronger. I wanted to be around them more because they loved the game more. This isn’t really a general statement either. They knew all the famous players and the new tricks and they were juggling before practice and wanted to stay at training longer and wanted to play pickup on their own time. They watched soccer on TV and went to games when they were close by. It was a different life. That’s not to say that the girls I played with growing up didn’t love the game and put everything they had into it… it was just different. 

I felt like I fit in with the boys (even if I really didn’t at all – I was still a girl after all and they never forgot that). Growing up in the game with the opportunity to play with boys at every level of my life – from elementary school recess to town soccer to training with premiere teams to pick up with the Penn State men to training with every boy’s club team in the state of CT as a pro – I cannot imagine my development as a player without them. I was comfortable being uncomfortable with them. 

I realize now that times are different in youth soccer. Girls don’t always have the same opportunities that I had to play with the boys. Back then, there weren’t many girls who wanted to train with boys, so it was easier. 

If there is one piece of advice that I can give young girls who want to get to the highest level though, it’s to try to find boys to play with. Their game is different, their approach is sometimes different and we can learn from them. 

It’s my hope that the girls have the confidence to ask – “Can I play?” and the boys have the sense to say, “yeah, sure,” because the lasting effects for both are all positive and something that is much needed in this world today. 

This is less an advice column and more of a thank you though. Thank you to all the guys out there (they are all men now) who were so incredibly kind to me when we were younger. Don’t get me wrong, they gave me plenty of shit all the time, but they let me play with them and though it was likely a small gesture on their part, it ended up changing my life forever. 

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.

“Nice to meet you, Tiffany, how are you feeling today?” 

“Just some pain in my left knee.”

“Okay and how long have you had this?”

“Two days this time. But it’s been going on for a year.”

“And what is your occupation?”

“Soccer player.”

“Soccer player? Really?” 

I smiled and looked up from my dangling feet. 

“Yeah.”

I was just surprised. Not that soccer fans have a look or a vibe. I was just in a doctor’s office and didn’t expect it. Usually people humor the fact that I’m a professional athlete.  I see the look in their eyes, the look that says:

But she’s a woman, so?? 

Not from Emma. Emma looked at me, wide-eyed. She started shaking her head, smiling while she was putting my information in the computer. 

“Do you like soccer?” I asked. 

“I love soccer.” 

Woah. She loves soccer, I thought to myself. All of a sudden, my dangling feet didn’t matter. I didn’t even know why I was in that room. 

I looked at her while she continued looking at the computer. I had a million questions but knew our time was limited. 

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“Ethiopia.”

Ethiopia. Now I can place her accent. 

She shook her head again. Smiling.

"You're here to get the cyst drained, correct."

"Yeah."

Ahh. That's why I'm here. This damn cyst. I know how the process goes. Numb the area on the back of my knee. Stick the needle in and get all that goo out. I hope I don't feel it this time.

“Soccer is beautiful. Soccer is art," she blurted out. 

I looked at my arms and saw goosebumps. 
YES, I KNOW. I know soccer is beautiful. I know soccer is art. And I love when people say it out loud like that. Unprompted. 

She was smiling still. Shaking her head. 

She just kept saying: “It is art. Soccer is art."

We continued talking about soccer. I pulled out my phone and showed her the goals from the Russia vs. Saudi Arabia game. She didn’t know the game was earlier in the day. 

She threw her head back, smiling and shaking her head again at one of Denis Cheryshev's goals. 

She kept shaking her head. When I shake my head, sometimes it’s from a lack of being able to find adequate words to describe something.

I felt that Emma could not describe the art she was referring to. But she didn’t have to. I understood. 

We talked about how she would play with her kids and how they would tell her to stop because she was embarrassing them. She said she just loved playing. I was glad my mom never tried. 

“It is a lot of running though.” I said. 

“No. It is just art.”

She was so insistent. She was so sure of it, incredibly sure of it. 

And she was so right. The game is art. It’s a thing of beauty. And it’s easy to get caught up in the numbers and the distances and the final score and the table and everything that surrounds the game. 

But at it’s very core, it’s a creation. It’s art. 

Emma hadn’t heard of the Washington Spirit before today. But quickly became a fan and thought it was cool that I played soccer. I mean yeah it is. But it's only cool if we can appreciate it for what it truly is.

As I limped out of the doctor's office on a sunny day in Maryland, squinting from the brightness of the sun, I found myself shaking my head. Emma gave me a much needed reminder that the even though the World Cup is the most popular "event" in the world, it's still just the game..the most incredible game in the world, at its purest and finest. 

"It is art."

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. 

I have been thinking about the past year as one does when something ends. I think I changed more in the past year than I have in the past five years put together. In a good way.

When I woke up on the morning of March 9 of this year, I wrote in my journal, “I’m just not sure if people will let me be myself, and that’s all I want really. I don’t know if I’ll make friends like I did in Kansas.” 

Whenever I venture into something new, I’m always hesitant. I’m always optimistic, but I’m always hesitant. I don’t know what it is. I have no bad experience to base it off of. I have no reality where I didn’t make friends on a team or in a new place. I don’t know where it comes from. It’s just a self-doubt. 

I worked at Heather O’Reilly’s Hometown Holiday Clinic last week and one of the pieces of advice she gave to the young players was that we have to have: self-discipline, self-belief and something else I can’t remember right now. 

I probably didn’t listen after she said self-belief. 

Self-belief is one of those funny words/phrases. It’s the one we tell everyone to have but always have a hard time with it ourselves. I do a decent job with self-belief. I think I’m good at what I do if I put effort into it. I’m not naturally anything. I have to work at things. Funny, yes, that’s the exception. 

So, what I’ve realized is that I don’t doubt my own self-belief, I doubt the effort I’m going to put into something. Maybe I’m getting tired. Maybe I don’t think I have it in me to give that much. Maybe that something isn’t a priority anymore. 

I realized this while looking back at my year. I didn’t know if I had it in me to go to physical therapy every week and do extra work and take care of my body like an old ass hag professional, but I did. I didn’t know if I would go out of my way to make new friends and take the time to learn the cool apps and songs that the little kids were listening to, but I did and realized they weren’t so little. 

I didn’t know if I could do school and run a business and train and coach and still watch shows on Netflix, until I put my damn head down and worked to figure out my schedule and become more disciplined than ever. I stopped doubting the effort I would put into things and just started doing it. And I am happy to report that business is really good, grades are all As, my body feels great, my kids are getting better and loving the game and I have been crushing Netflix and reading books. Sounds like bragging? Yeah, probably. But really, it’s just that I proved myself wrong, which I hate but love. 

As 2018 approaches, I chose to share this bit with you all because nothing is easy for anyone. I talk to so many people who do awesome things and it’s rarely smooth. Yet, it’s not the smooth that we are seeking, it’s the act of doing the something. No one says, “Yeah, I went back to school, but it was so hard and so challenging, I wish I hadn’t done it.” They say, “Yeah, I went back to school and it was hard AF but I did it and I’m so glad I did.” 

With that all said, here is my best advice. Jump in. Do it. Whatever it is. Don’t doubt yourself. The doubt floats in the space between you and that thing that is yours. Move it. Erase it. Push it. Pull it. Bop it. (I couldn’t resist). Just get rid of it. And start. 

Happy New Year! Hope 2018 is good for you all. 

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. 

Last year I took a course online with Second City and learned a lot about sketch writing. Sometimes one of the best lessons I can learn is that I don’t like something.  One of my strengths as a human I believe firmly is that I know with ease what I like and don’t like. I finished the course, but it wasn’t for me. 

Starting this program earlier this week, I already know it’s for me. I want to be a better writer and storyteller. If that means write a book, great. If that means write better blogs, great also. If that only means I write better for myself and my people, great again. I have realized that I just want to get better for myself (though I hope you all can benefit). 

One of the first lessons we “talked about” in “class” – see yeah, it’s going to be like “that” because it’s online and not in real life- was the idea of reading like a writer. 

Reading like a writer means simply to read in order to learn for your own writing. I’ve spent my whole life reading for pleasure and for the content of the book. I was reading as a “fan” I guess I can say. Now, I’m starting to read books with the intention of gaining more from them.

The idea that I can improve my own writing through the act of reading made perfect sense to me once someone else said it. I have been doing that same thing my entire life with soccer. 

I know there are professional players out there who don’t watch much soccer and still have successful careers playing the game the right way. I can’t argue that whatever they did or didn’t do has worked for them. For the majority of players though, especially young players, watching the game is vital to development and there is a major different between watching games as a student in order to learn from it and watching as a fan for pleasure.

When I watch games for pleasure, I am in my bed with my coffee and one eye open at 7:30 am on a Saturday morning. Sometimes I sit up but usually I’m still under the covers and have the volume up so I can be more attentive when the announcers get excited. 

When I watch as a student, I’m sitting at my desk with the game on my computer using the tactical cam options on NBC Sports with a pen and notebook --- plugs company for soccer planner (www.duktigbrand.com) --- and the volume is off. 

I watch the players that play my position (wingers, attacking midfielders) and their movement off the ball, where they receive the ball most on the pitch, how they get back into defensive shape (and how quickly), their body language (it is extremely important to see good and bad body language to think about our own) and where their best chances come from.

If I’m not watching other games, I’m watching my own film. It’s hard not to watch that for pleasure sometimes (haha sorry, couldn’t resist). I can see the good things and the bad things I do in a game and see how those decisions impact the team and the game. It’s how I can learn to be better for next time. 

As young players progress through the game, it’s good for them to know that there are two ways to watch games: for pleasure and enjoyment and to learn. Obviously, a little of both is always going on while we watch. As coaches and parents and mentors, we can all help to encourage players to rethink the way they watch games. That is something in our control. 

The reason I liked this idea from my writing class so much was that it applies to everything. Obviously, soccer is what I know. Some consider me an expert or something. I don’t know. Don’t ask me. 

Writing is something I’m not as good at. So, this is a way for me to train it. And it’s something I’ll take into other parts of my life that I want to improve. 

The beauty of our everyday lives is the ability to get better no matter our circumstances. I know everyone has their shit. I have my shit. Some shit is really, really bad. (LOL, to Yael and the rest of us dealing with gastrointestinal problems) I don’t pretend to think life is always wonderful for everyone. 

So, what can I do? I can try to live as a learner. That’s about it. And maybe help others do the same.

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.]

It’s almost always the same. But it’s so wonderful in a lot of ways. You’re basically given this time to get to know your teammates, what they’re like on and off the field, as well as the coaches and staff. It’s like the “talking” part before dating someone. Except it’s accelerated and you know you’re going to end up with these people no matter what. It also gives you a chance to put into play all the things you worked on individually in the offseason, which to me, is magical.

You start talking to people you’ve known for five days as if you’ve known them for five years, just because you are spending so much time with them and they gave you their last piece of melon. Or you took it and they didn’t notice.

I have made some new friends here already. It’s nice having people close to my age on the team – Natasha Dowie, Angela Salem and Amanda DaCosta, yet I’m still a solid five years ahead of them in the calendar of life. As much as I try to say “hey us oldies…” they think I’m in a class of my own. Fair enough I guess. But then there are some who are more than ten years younger than me. Morgan Andrews is 21 years old. (Eyes popping out face) It’s incredible. And cool. Because when we’re all on the field, everyone is the same, no matter the age or where they came from (even if they’re from Canada), we’re one team and we have one goal and that’s the beauty of a team sport.

So, if you’re looking for a team to follow this year in the NWSL I would highly suggest following the Boston Breakers. We have a lot of spunk. And we’re pretty decent at soccer too. And not to mention we have Rose Lavelle. Whose dog has an under bite.

Just like spring cleaning, you always feel better and accomplished when it’s done. So, I’ll have something more energetic to write for you when preseason is over. I promise.

#BreakersStrong 

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. 

Here’s a story. 

If you know me at all, and even if you don’t, you can assume that I’m obsessively in love with the game of soccer. It’s how you might feel about your children. It’s my life, it’s my love, it gets me out of bed in the morning when Dunkin Donuts doesn’t. To me, it’s the most glorious thing in the world. The odd thing is, I’ve dedicated my life to it and yet, I am nowhere near perfect at it. 

And I realize, like the rational human being that I am, that perfection is unattainable. So that’s not what keeps me moving forward.

What has driven me from when I was five years old until today (33 apparently) is the idea that I can change who I am. That I don’t have to be content with the training session or game I had yesterday. I have seen myself progress from a little peanut wearing her shinguards over her socks to a bigger peanut who knows that if she ever wears her shinguards over her socks now, it’s just a terrible life choice. 

When I graduated from college in 2006, I had no idea what the next chapter of my life would be. There was no professional league. I played for teams during the summers, but for the majority of the time from 2006-2008 I just trained. I had to change the player I was if I wanted to be a professional player. Luckily I had a trainer and mentor who not only taught me how to be a better soccer player, but also taught me how to be a professional. I had to keep progressing. I couldn’t stay the same. And I still have to keep progressing because the game doesn’t stand still for anyone.  

I wake up every morning fully believing that I can make a change in my life for the better. I can be better. That’s in soccer and in everything I do in life. And you better damn well believe that it’s hard and it’s work and it can be frustrating when it doesn’t always go as planned. That’s life. Progress isn’t possible without some frustration, so I’ve learned. 

I’m going into my 10th year as a professional player. I feel great and retiring is a thing I cannot fathom still. It’s still too fun. There’s still too many things I need to improve on. (Like a completed nutmeg on a goalkeeper.)  I'm playing because I think I can still make a difference. 

As we have seen in all that is going on in the world today, it’s not perfect. We are all well aware of that. But I hope that people realize that every single day, no matter what circumstances arise, that we can change the things we can control and we can also heavily impact some things that may seem out of our control. 

One of my favorite new quotes is this: 

“One person in pursuit of excellence raises the standard and performance of everyone around them.” (I'm not sure who said it)

This quote can be about each and every one of us. It's not designated for anyone special. 

Anyway. I’m on the train of not giving up on myself, on my people, on this country and this world. I’m not giving up because change is so possible. Sometimes we just have to start small, let the dominos fall and remember that feeling you get when your dentist, in his/her demeaning tone, asks if you have been flossing regularly. They know the answer. Everyone knows the answer damn it! But in the back of our minds, we all know we can be better. 

The end. 

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. 

I took two weeks off from soccer and went on vacation. I can’t emphasize enough how important that is for mental and physical health. I always learn so much from the Swedes about how important rest is. In case you were wondering, in Sweden it is mandatory that workers take their five weeks paid vacation. 

After my vacation, I came home and eased back into training. And adjusted to the winter that is my lovely home state of Connecticut. 

I turned 33 a few weeks ago. Which was a major milestone in my life because if you face the threes to each other it actually makes an 8. So, that’s cool.

I’ve read a few books including Little Victories by Jason Gay and The Talent Code. I’m currently reading The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari. 

I don’t live the most exciting life at home. When I’m home it’s time to train, and get ready for the upcoming season. It’s the offseason, which means that I’m able to make strides in my development as a player that I couldn’t make in season. 

I watch as many games as I can on TV. I have strength training 3x a week. I have some running and technical sessions outside in temperatures worthy of “arctic blast” labeling. I play futsal with a bunch of talented current and former college guys. I train with a U18 boys team once a week. I obsess about every meal, how long my naps are and making sure I never leave my cleats in my car overnight. It’s a lot. But I won’t complain about it. I never do. Why?

Because I love it. 

I see a lot of articles about players who are retiring or have retired because of meager salaries offered for female athletes in soccer. I agree, the salaries suck and if you’re not 100 percent obsessed with and in love with soccer, it’s probably not going to be worth it to fight through. I know a lot of players though, who have, over the years, done much more than fought through in order to do what they love every day; they have thrived. 

In addition to the training many of us do in the offseason, we also have to supplement our playing incomes. By supplement I mean, we have to find ways to make just as much money in the offseason as we do in season. It’s no easy task, but if you ask players who continue to do it year after year if it’s worth it, they will say it is every single time. 

If you are looking for some of these players, who despite not making hundreds of thousands of dollars playing the professional sport they dreamed of, currently are thriving, here are some that come to mind:

Yael Averbuch (Age: 30): Going into her 9th year as a professional player. Has organized camps and clinics all over the country. Started an online training app for players called Techne Futbol which puts a training program literally in the palms of our hands. Thriving. 

Brittany Taylor (Age: 29): Going into her 7th year as a professional player. She has been coaching with Quickstrike FC (youth soccer club in New York) since 2008 and is going into her third year as the Girls’ Director of Coaching. Thriving. 

Joanna Lohman (Age: 34): Going into her 13th year as a professional. She is an trainer and mentor, working with players on and off the field, a professional public speaker (she did a TED Talk), and is a Sport Diplomat. Her personal website is www.joannalohman.com. Thriving. 

Amanda Da Costa (Age: 27): Going into her 7th year as a professional player. She has been doing individual soccer training and writing for many years. Started her own company called Advantage Trainer for players to become masters of the ball. Thriving.

Nicole Barnhart (Age: 35): Going into her 8th year as a professional player (not including ten years of being with the USWNT). Started her own goalkeeper academy called Nicole Barnhart Goalkeeping. Thriving. 

There are many more who fall into this category. These are just a few. They have two, sometimes three jobs. It’s pretty normal these days to have more than one job. I know tons of people who aren’t professional soccer players who have two jobs. Some days they go right from one job to the next with hardly a break. It’s life man. 

To quote the famous I have no clue who said it, “You got to do what you got to do.” 

I’m entering my 10th year as a professional. I have learned to be extremely resourceful over these past nine years. I have started companies, been a part of other people starting companies. I’ve played in other countries. I’ve helped kids get to play college soccer (which was an extremely rewarding experience). I’ve done a lot of writing, some for pretty great publications. I feel I have a diverse work experience resume in a sense. Mostly because I did all this while pursuing the my most prized life experience: playing soccer for a living. 

This is not a brag. You know when I’m bragging because I say stuff like, “yo, I’m great.” This is just to say it really isn’t so bad. I’m so glad I’ve been able to have all these different experiences. Like, I know how to build my own website. I wouldn’t have learned to do that if I could just you know, pay someone to do it! 

Similar to women who have been told being a professional and a mom isn’t possible, it isn’t easy. No one would blame you for doing one or the other. But it is possible. Really, anything is possible if it’s worth it to you, right?

Shine On Sweden Pts. 1-6

Ah Sweden. A country so beautiful it’s almost a shame it gets as cold as it does here. I’m lucky to be here during the best part of the year, my favorite part of the year: the fall. 

Sweden, for those of you who don’t have Google, sits between Finland and Norway way up near the Arctic circle. It’s well-known for several things. None of them are Swedish fish. It’s funny, if you ask a Swede what they’re most proud of they have to think about it for a few minutes. Eventually they’ll come up with the following: ABBA, Zlatan Ibrahimovic and Marabou chocolate. 

If you were to ask an American what they’re most proud of, they would have quite a list. 

I like to learn about the cultures of the places I live. I try to find out who’s mom is the best cook on the team and invite myself to their house for a typical Swedish dinner. I ask a million questions about everything from the food to the music to the traditions. I just want to know everything. And once I get some answers I’ll say something really American like, “that’s so Swedish.” 

Since the last time I was in Sweden, in 2009, the Swedes have become a bit more how do you say…Americanized, therefore I’m funnier. Thankfully. 

I have taught some of them how to effectively use “that’s what she said” and so far it’s going well, they think it's funny. They try to teach me Swedish and I try to explain to them that people don’t use Swedish outside of Sweden. It’s a tough sell. But in my defense (I think) their English is great. They should keep using it. They’re fluent in two languages by the time they graduate high school and the US is over here like hola?! Hablo Spanish? I think we have some catching up to do.

So, fact one: I’m still funny in Sweden. 

Fact two: I do things here that I would never think to do at home. Why do I become a different person in a different country?

When I’m home in the US I would probably eat a hotdog twice a year. If I go to a baseball game or if my mom is eating a Duchess hotdog and I’m tempted to remember what one tastes like. 

Since I’ve been here I’ve already had more than 10 hotdogs. Convenience. Hot dogs are everywhere. Gas station hot dogs are normal to eat. I don’t know how many times I’ve been riding my bike (something else I never do at home yet do all day every day here) stopped at the gas station and rode home with a hot dog in my hand and a Coke in my basket. How 1950s of me. 

Speaking of riding my bike, I go to the grocery store every day to get the food I need for the day. I’m sure you can picture it. The loaf of French bread sticking out of my basket and all. It’s ridiculous. 

Fact three: Speaking of food. Swedes love desserts. And coke. And beer. And bread. And eating ice cream at 10 am. And yet. Despite all of this. They’re not obese. I’m not sure what we’re doing wrong America, but it’s wrong. Maybe we should all be biking more. That’s probably the difference maker. Or portion control. 

Fact four: fika forever. Fika means having a hang out and a coffee. They do this often here. Just take a break out of the day and have a coffee and hang out and talk. I told Swedes that where I’m from most people have a coffee to go in a drive-thru and drink it in the car on their way to work. They were also quite appalled when I said that it’s not uncommon for Americans to eat their meal in their car alone or standing up or while walking down the street. There’s no rush in Sweden. Fika til the cows come home you guys. 

Fact five: One of my teammates a powerlifting world champion for her age group. If you’ve never heard of Lee Winroth, that’s okay. She’s totally okay with that. She is incredibly modest for having the world record for the deadlift (418 lbs when she was 16 years old). She also plays professional soccer. And she’s only 18 years old. What an incredible human. Check out this article about her in The New Yorker. When she's not competing, she trains her favorite teammate to beat the deadlifting world record for the over 30 age bracket. JK. I'm bad at the gym. 

Fact six: Promotion and relegation. People talk about it at home all the time. “The US should have it.” I’m telling you, it’s a huge different maker. There is something incredibly motivating about playing for a chance to stay in the best league in your country. It’s more than just finishing out the season strong. It’s finishing out the season for a chance to be there next season. Desperation. It’s coming upon that time of the season when teams are desperate to stay and also desperate to make the top two spots for Champions League next year. It’s not do or die, it’s do or bye. 

Now the fun part. With our 3-1 win last weekend, we have clinched a spot in the Damallsvenskan for the 2017 season. Let me try to explain how huge that is.  

Last season and many seasons before that, the team was in the division below called the Elitettan. This was the first year Kvarnsveden IF played in the highest league in Sweden. With that said, it’s usually difficult for a team stay up in the first year. Before the season, many journalists said the team wouldn't stay up and even went as far as saying we wouldn’t get a single point. Right now we are tied for 7th place with 21 points (out of 12 teams), there are three games left and a chance to finish in the top 5. 

What a time to be alive.

(Editor's Note: Title inspiration should be obvious)

A Little Tribute to FCKC

Most days I get in the car and go where I need to go without thinking much else. I need to go to the store, or the field or the gym. Then there are days when I get in the car and I just feel like driving. Not anywhere in particular. Just away. And it’s not necessarily because I’m unhappy, it’s just because sometimes I crave a change of scenery. I imagine many people feel this way once in a while. 

The urge for something different. 

One day in April, my brother and I got in the car and we drove. To Kansas. Just those words alone seem ridiculous to me, even now. We drove to Kansas from Connecticut. Me. Who said she would never, could never, live in the Midwest. 

But in this instance I had to take my chances. And I was lucky enough to have a brother who would do almost anything for me to take me there. He made it so I couldn’t turn around in Pennsylvania or Indiana. He kept me sane. 

It was a long 20 hours in the car. Most of the time I was thinking, wtf am I doing? Then there were bits of wonderment and hope that tomorrow would be better than today. That’s something I haven’t thought too much in my life, but the past three years it seems like a constant. 

The night we got to Kansas City, I met Chris Farabee first. I learned quickly that Chris has been the one that can help you get things done if you need anything. From putting a dresser together, to arranging appearances to driving you to training, he wears all the hats. He made me feel welcomed right away.

The next morning my brother and I had breakfast with Yael Averbuch. 

Yael took me under her wing. It’s weird to say that, especially because she’s younger than me and I had so much life experience and soccer experience up until that point. But she did it. She made sure I was taken care of. And I let her do that. It’s amazing what we’re capable of when we let go of standard expectations and our own ego. I was in Kansas City as a 32-year-old practice player. I had let go of everything. I’m pretty sure that started happening gradually during the 20-hour road trip. 

As each state passed and we were further from normal, I felt a sense of giving in to life, letting go of control. I tried to control so much for so long. I tried to be so strict with myself. I had expectations that made me OCD and in turn, disappointed quite often. I wasn’t being fair to myself. 

There’s a song that my mom used to play for me when I was a child unable to form words. Maybe some of my more musically experienced (see what I did there?) readers know this one: Life In A Northern Town by Dream Academy. I listen to that song when I miss my mom sometimes and it calms me. And one line in it I’ve heard 100 times but only recently has it hit hard. 

“Take it easy on yourself.” 

Man, I’ve been so hard on myself. 
I’m not saying I shouldn’t be sometimes. Sometimes I need to push myself to get to where I want to be. But maybe I’m happier when I cut myself some slack sometimes too. Maybe I’m actually much better the less I have to try.

I had a conversation with Yael about coming to Kansas City. I talked to Vlatko Andonovksi and Huw Williams on the phone about the logistics. There was a chance I could get a contract, but it wouldn’t be easy and that’s not what I was thinking about. That wouldn’t make or break my time there. And I couldn’t believe I thought those thoughts, but I had to think those thoughts or else I would be right back to where I was with my expectations and being hard on myself. 

So my gut said to go to Kansas City. I don’t know all the reasons why. I’m sure I’ll never know why. 

Once I started training more and getting to know the people there I was able to start putting the pieces together. (I’m trying hard to put all this into words and it’s not easy.) I stopped chasing an ideal life. I stopped chasing contracts and game minutes and approval from people. I stopped trying to please everyone all the time. I just stopped. 

I felt free. Which I wrote about a little more light-hearted in my previous blog. 

When I feel free, apparently, I’m much more myself. And here’s the coolest part. When I’m more myself, which involves having a split personality or maybe duality of some sort that makes my life more balanced. I have tended in the past years to go more toward one side which makes me serious, work too much and overly routined. 

I was trying so hard that it was using all my energy all the time. 

You know what doesn’t use up all my energy? Being myself. Being my own natural self. It’s easy. I never realized how easy it was, to be myself and to have all the extra energy as a result. 

This seems like such a cliché statement, but it’s not. It’s not because rarely do people take the time to get to know themselves enough to be them self. I’m an over-thinker. I got to this point almost by accident. But I’m here. 

I wasn’t able to do this by myself though. Sometimes all the good things are inside of us. Like a pomegranate. It’s a process to get them all out. 

The people in Kansas City, without trying or knowing it, got all my good things out of me. 

It started with Vlatko. Without getting too far into it, Vlatko has created an environment where less is more. Less instruction. Less stress. Fewer rules. It’s a player’s environment. It allows for your own thought process to take over instead of a coach’s. This is rare. I felt free to play and to improve. I did that on the field. It wasn’t just Vlatko though. His staff is what makes his vision work. Matt Briggs, Milan Ivanovic, Shawn Dumers, the guys at Athlete Fit, Scott Moody and Shon Jones. They all buy into this. Add that to the idea that everyone is treated the same and it’s a recipe for success. Maybe not success in the way most people view it, but in the way Vlatko does. He told me he values the relationships he has with people and their lives more than the soccer part of it. That’s rare. 

On the first day I walked into the training room to meet Shawn and tell him about my past injuries he had his sick baby boy in there with him. Nicole Barnhart was holding him and taking care of him as if it were her own and Shawn was focused on me. Everything I had to say. He was completely focused. He told me that it didn’t matter if I was a practice player or a starter on the national team, everyone would get the same treatment. He really didn’t have to say that, because I felt it right then and there. I also felt that every single day after that. With everyone listed above.

The staff took care of me. I never once felt like a practice player. They made it possible for me to get better every day. On the field. In the treatment room. In the gym. I felt like I could fall into a net held up by all these guys whenever things got hard. It never got to that point. 

So now for the stuff that makes me a little more emotional. 

Yael is one of the best people you will ever meet in your life. One night after two beers I started to write a tribute about her. Maybe that was a little creepy so I never finished it. I hardly knew her before I went to Kansas City. By the time I left I felt like I had known her my whole life and was forever indebted to her. She made it so easy to come into the team. She is the definition of a true friend. 

I lived with Yael for the first two months. Her roommates, Molly Menchel and Heather O’Reilly jumped on the train with Yael and made sure I was 150 percent comfortable and happy every day. I have never felt so comfortable being uncomfortable before. They made me realize that we can always be better to each other. We can actually save people if we think about them more than ourselves. For the record, Yael is able to do everything on her to-do list each day and then yours, and mine and whatever else needs to be done. She can do all this and sit down and have a cup of tea and relax. She’s something else. 

I started making friends quickly within the group. Alex Arlitt and Brianne Reed came into my life like a hurricane hurling houses and cars. Man, I needed them. They made it more than okay to be absolutely ridiculous. They are so weird. I am so weird. And so stupid. To the point where I never thought I could say half the things I wanted to until I met them. Apparently they felt similarly. It reinforced the idea that I am funny and can be funny and truly enjoy being funny more often than not. Life doesn’t have to be so serious. 

I started to talk to Amanda Frisbie more and more. She’s a goofball but has a heart of gold and steel. We shared our love for music together, specifically Fleetwood Mac and I was reminded quickly that music makes me so happy. I knew music made me happy, but I didn’t act on it. She got in on the stupidity of the rest of us quickly. She was a perfect fit. 

The end of June approached and by this point I had an offer from Kvarnsvedens IK in Sweden to play the second half of the season. I didn’t know what to do at this point. I was making strong friendships. I was getting better on and off the field. I was in a place where it would be hard to leave, but man I was dying to play in games.

I signed with Kvarnsvedens. (Thanks to the help of Adelaide Gay, who believes in me more than I believe in myself sometimes) It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. The plan was to leave Kansas City at the end of June, go home for a few weeks in July and then head to Sweden. 

That was the plan. A plan I wasn’t crazy about, but that was probably best for me. How do we even know what’s best for us? Really? I think we just know sometimes. Sometimes we think we know. 

By this time, I moved in to an apartment with my new roommate Mandy Laddish. Mandy and I hadn’t spoken more than five words the first two months I was there. She worked a lot and wasn’t living at the apartments. She has a real job to pay for her student loans. She also coaches. She’s impressive. 

We became best friends quickly. 

Photo Credit: Les Young

Mandy is a really good painter. Really good. She is modest about it. She reminded me how important it is to have things that we’re passionate about and not to ignore them. I should write when the mood hits me, when I feel free to write, like right now on our 8-hour bus ride. It’s just flowing out of me like (man the only analogy that’s coming to mind with the word flow is just not really the best one) … It’s the same idea of forcing something to happen, trying too hard. It’s never as good. Our friendship was very natural and easy. It has made me realize that most things can be this way if we’re open to them. If we have to try so hard for something, is it really something we want? 

I’m not sure anymore. I used to think so. But now I think that something pops in my mind because that’s where my mind wants to be. If I want to watch Meet Joe Black four times in a month, then that’s what I want to do, who cares if it’s a 3-hour movie and there are so many other movies I should see? 

So then plans changed. A few players were injured and I stayed on as an amateur call-up for July. I'm so glad I did. I had a taste of traveling, dressing, getting in games again and having more time with these wonderful people I had grown to love. It was all the right thing to do. Every step of it. 

This is by far the longest blog I’ve ever written in my life. I have tried to write this at least ten times now. I have plenty of beginnings saved on my computer. None of them felt natural, so I stopped and waited for a better time. That time finally arrived. 

I’m currently playing in Sweden for Kvarnsvedens IK. Leaving Kansas City was actually very difficult, but definitely the right decision. I knew this when I left and I was confirmed of that when I played in my first game on Tuesday. It had been more than three years since my name was announced in the starting lineup of a team. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, and I didn’t think it was a big deal, but on Tuesday when they said my name, something in me sparked. 

I had been put back together in Kansas City. I won’t ever lose that again. And if I do, I know how to find it. Being in Sweden, I have the last piece to the puzzle. The one that you always put in so slowly and carefully because you know that once it’s down you can see the whole picture, just as it’s supposed to be. The one that, without, leaves something to be desired. 

I’m whole. Or at least I feel that way right now. I can play again. My knee feels good. The coaches and players here believe in me. They made it extremely easy to come into their season half way. That could be partly how I am now, but also a testament to the people here.

That’s just all you can ask for as an athlete. 

The road probably won’t be easy going forward. In anything I do. 

I just know that I’ll do my best. I’ll be me. And I’ll always take it easy on myself.

It's Okay To Go Back

Almost three years ago to this day, I decided to go to the stadium earlier than usual for our game. I was in Portland and the stadium was then called Jeld Wen. 

I put all my stuff down in the empty locker room, grabbed a pen and my journal out of my backpack and walked out into a desolate stadium. It was so quiet and so peaceful. I sat on our bench and started to write everything I was feeling about being out there. I poured my heart out for a good 30 minutes.  

I have so many memories playing at Jeld Wen (now Providence Park), yet this one sticks out above all the others. It was as if I had my own special time with the stadium that brought me closer to it than before.   

We have these moments in life. Where something draws us in so close that we feel we have a special bond with it. I wasn’t the first person to sit in that stadium alone, nor was I the last. But I don’t think about those other people and the possibility of those shared moments. I think about the special bond I have with the stadium and how it’s different from what other people have. 

I think we have this with places, with things, with people. Places have a way of feeling like they’re ours. Like the soccer field I grew up playing on, or the beach near my house. I feel drawn to those places and extremely nostalgic going there. I want to go there to not only satisfy the pull, but to also replay in my mind the memories that keep bringing me back there.

People have a way of making us feel a certain way that we crave. The idea that we can be pulled toward a person or group of people because they made us like ourselves better. Because they made us happy. 

Think about movies, songs, books, smells or sounds. Things that put us in an almost hypnotic trance because of the way it makes us feel or the memories they remind us of. Nostalgia is a helluva drug.  

Last night I dressed for the first time for FC Kansas City. We played the Thorns in Portland at Providence Park. I was drawn to the stadium as soon as it was in sight. It all felt familiar and reminded me of a good time in my life. 

As the game went on and I continued warming up for a potential opportunity to step on that field for the first time in three years I realized something. I was being pulled by two things at once. The feeling of being in the stadium and then the feeling of closeness, of comfort of love from my teammates. I haven’t known them very long but what they have done for me in the past three months is something I’ll never forget as long as I live. They met me at one of the most vulnerable times in my life. They’ve taught me that a few small obstacles in life do more than set us back, they set us up. Set us up for what’s next in life or for the next version of our self to surface. 

Stepping on the field for stoppage time in the 2-1 win over the Thorns was an emotional experience for me. It doesn’t seem like much from the outside. But inside I felt like a new person stepping on the field. I have never appreciated stepping on the field more. How do I know? Never in my life have I hoped to get hit by a ball in the wall, but Saturday night I wanted to. Just to contribute in some way to a group of people who have basically brought the best back out of me, on and off the field. 

When all is said and done, we don’t get to experience the same exact thing twice in a lifetime. We get it once, and if it’s special enough it will keep pulling us back to it. It’s our job to appreciate the moments of the pull and allow ourselves to feel whatever it is it makes us feel. 

After all, the things that we’re drawn to have made us who we are and even more than that, have shown that it feels so freaking good to be alive.