17 Years.
I have been slow to post because I have been slow to comprehend. These past two weeks have been a blur...but the longest and most confusing and disoriented blur I have ever experienced in my life. How do you take someone who has spent 17 of their 21 years of life identifying as an athlete and suddenly throw them out of the game, out of the gleam of the stadium lights, out of the competition? I had no words—I still have no words—to express the feeling I’ve endured the past 14 days OR even more than that, my gratitude for the last 17 years, but here I am, and I will try.
I could sit and reflect about how much I’m scared to be done with sports forever, how much being retired sucks, and how much I miss the feeling of pride on that field. I could write about how much I miss the stadium lights, the 6a.m. lifts, and the brisk air on a crisp fall day. I could explain how much I miss the long bus rides, the pre-game jitters, the dance moves to ease the nerves, and the sore, scabbed, and scraped legs post-game. I could spend my time conveying how much I miss the defeat of failure, the joy of success, the ball at my feet, and my teammates surrounding me, supporting me, encouraging me. The early mornings. The late nights. The push. The drive. The determination. The grit. The learning. The molding. The sacrifice. The resilience. The struggling. The growing. However, no one ever moved forward crying about and missing the past. Hopefully in writing this I will find the comfort and closure I need to use what I’ve learned the past 6,205 days as an athlete in my next chapter of life. The one I am hoping will be even grander.
So, I say thank you.
Thank you to four year old me. Thank you for diving head first into every single thing you did. Thank you for your drive and determination to never give up. Thank you for your zest for life and genuine passion and joy. Thank you for your lofty dreams and big aspirations. Thank you for your work ethic and grit. Thank you for your resilience and persistence. Thank you for your perspective and attitude. Thank you for your attention to detail and care. Thank you for your strength and might. Thank you for your happiness and humor. Thank you for never giving up, and for especially never hanging up your cleats. You had so many options, so many choices. Between ice skating and ballet. Choir and dance. Softball and basketball. Art and tap. Golf and Girl Scouts. You clung to soccer. You held it tight. You never let it go. You grew into me because of that choice. You may not have known it then, but your gravitation toward that soccer ball led to the greatest and grandest adventure I, 21 year old you, never could have imagined. I owe a lot of who I am to you.
Thank you to the black and white ball that gave me it all. From my earliest friends and mentors to the lessons and tests of true strength. The laughter and fun. The tears and the heartbreak. The work ethic and grit. The success and accomplishment. The failure and resilience. The want, the hunger, the drive. The fun, the happiness, the passion. The feeling of equality as I battled against boys at the Castaic Sports Complex. The feeling of improvement as I shifted from the Sports Complex to AYSO where we spent countless hours at tournaments with the coolest customizable sweatshirts and best kettle corn. The feeling of pride when I transitioned from AYSO to club where my abilities were tested and my love for you constantly grew. The feeling of fun as I continued to evolve and take those new skills onto my high school turf at West Ranch. The feeling of joy as you led me to the greatest and most unexpected adventure: Coe College in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Through all the friends, all the teammates, and all the coaches. All the grades, classes, and projects. All the doctor appointments, bad blood sugars, and frustrations. All the holidays, seasons of life, and memories. All the years that went by as I molded, adapted, and grew. Every downfall in my life and every uprising, YOU have remained constant—YOU never changed. I owe a lot of who I am to you.
Thank you to my coaches and trainers who believed in me. I know I have frustrated you and I know there have been moments I let you down. However, I am so thankful for the coaches turned mentors who guided, challenged, and pushed me throughout my 17 years of athletics. While I was slow to give my dad up as a coach during the transition from AYSO to club, I quickly found that if you’re lucky, coaches don’t have to be connected by blood to treat you like their own. It is rare to have an athletic career with the amount of astounding coaches as I have had. (Especially when those coaches have to deal with the bipolar highs and lows of a type one diabetic). From basketball and softball to soccer and track, I have been blessed with the best people directing my sports career. There were moments I wanted to give up. Instances I didn’t think I could. Occasions where I doubted. Frustrations with diabetes. Hurt from injuries. Unhappiness with performance. But for every ounce of grievance and dissatisfaction I displayed, my coaches and trainers were the first to reassure me, point my vision in the right direction, and remind me of my potential and capabilities, not only as an athlete, but as a person, too. Never was I allowed to be comfortable or complacent. Never was I allowed to sulk or doubt. My coaches wouldn’t stand for it. They were more than mere “coaches,” they were more than mere "trainers"—they were my #1 fans, supporters, encouragers, and motivators. They were my inspirations, cheerleaders, and mentors. They were invested, caring, and loving. They were patient, wise, and kind. I owe a lot of who I am to you.
Thank you to the parents of my teammates. Whether you know it or not, you were a huge part of my athletic career. From your cheers on the sideline to your high fives and “well done’s” after games, you, too, watched me grow up and transform into who I am today alongside my blood parents. The many meals you paid for me, times you drove me in carpool, and moments of care when my parents weren’t there and you filled in, you have been there through it all. I owe a lot of who I am to you.
Thank you to my teammates who stood by my side (on and off the field). From Castaic Sports Complex to Coe, it has been the absolute best ride. It wasn’t always easy, it wasn’t always fun, but because of you, my love for soccer never faded, never ceased, never declined. Being on the field together and sharing jerseys has given me so much pride over the last 17 years and will always remain in such a special place in my heart. Most of my memories have you in them, you know? Good and bad, we went through it all together. Missed PK’s that lost the championship. Declining playing time. Self-doubt. Momentary losses of love for the game. Hard lifts. Long bus rides. Missing home. Losing family members. Bad practices. Worse games. Life threatening blood sugars. Boy problems. Friend problems. School problems. Life problems. You were there for me as I was there for you. Like Legos, stacking one on top of the other to support one another until we reached our top, our success, our moment to shine. Earned championships. Gained playing time. Self-confidence. Bursts of love for the game. Challenging, but awesome, lifts. Conversation-filled bus rides. Appreciating home. Appreciating family members. Good practices. Great games. Overcoming bad blood sugars. Boyfriends. Best friends. Classroom success. Love for life. You have been beside me in all stages of my life. You have helped me grow. You have taught me lessons. You have pushed me and challenged me and motivated me. You have laughed with me. You have cried with me. You have encouraged me. Loved me. Believed in me. Supported me. Inspired me. Fulfilled me. I owe a lot of who I am to you.
Thank you to my family. I took a lot of things for granted in the past 17 years of sports, but the main one I never acknowledged enough was you. Not every kid is lucky enough to have the opportunity to play sports at such a young age. To sign up for camp after camp. Try out for sport after sport. The choice to sacrifice luxury, house projects, and vacations for another year of sports, another year of soccer. Not every kid is lucky enough to have parents who support them in all they want to do. Parents who coach their kids after work and on their days off. Parents who spend countless hours traveling and watching practices and games. Parents who make the effort to be (overly) involved in their child’s athletic career. Not every kid is lucky enough to have the chance to play college soccer. The push from his or her family to spread their wings and fly. The encouragement to take that next step. The confidence to dive in. Words cannot even describe how thankful I am for my family and all they have done for me during my athletic career. I know there were hard times. My dad works five jobs just to provide for our family and be able to support the financial immensity of soccer. My mom also works fulltime. There have been house improvements-subsided, vacations-skipped, and wants ignored just so I could pass a ball around a field. The miles on their cars. The miles they’ve flown. The money-spent just to watch me play. The heartbreak after tough losses. The few nasty teammates. The frustrations on the field. The doubt. The lack of confidence. The confusion. The tears. They felt that pain, too. The years of sacrifices. The years of struggling financially. The years of heartache as mine transcended to theirs. I cannot even imagine all they have done for me to do what I love. All they’ve given up to then give to me. Of course there have been great times, too. The smiles from the stands. The nods of support after a good play. The “let’s go, Bear” hoots and hollers. The post-game hugs and hive fives. The reassurance. The advice. The insight. The support. The joy of a great win. The pride of overcoming failure. A new skill-gained. A new lesson-learned. But, my appreciation comes from the times that were not easy—the moments that were not always smooth. Because no matter how bumpy their path was, they always, always, always, did what they had to do to support me in my sports. Always gave me a hug as I cried and encouraged me out on the field, even as their heart was breaking, too. Always kicked the ball with me even after a long day at work. Always bought me cleats, even if the ones that felt best broke the bank. I cannot even fathom. I cannot even comprehend.
One of my fondest memories of playing sports growing up was my parents’ dedication to always be at every single event, no matter how far or for how long. One of my dad’s jobs is to work at a golf course weekend mornings. However, he never let this stop him from coming to my weekend tournaments. He would drive 2, even sometimes 3, hours to my games after getting off work even if it meant he would only catch the last 15 minutes. When I transitioned to college, my parents flew to Cedar Rapids, 15 times to watch me play in person. And every time they weren’t able to come, they would watch the live stream of the game while at work and then call me after with their encouragement and love. As I entered my last college game, I wasn’t 100% sure if they would be there because our spot in the Tournament was solidified only four days prior. Yet as I arrived to field, there they were. My parents. They booked a flight Tuesday night for a Saturday afternoon game. Knowing it could be my last game, my parents said, “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
As I try to keep writing, tears flood my eyes. I know everyone says they have the best parents, but none compare to mine. They are more than just "mom and dad." They are best friends. They are mentors. They are inspirations and role models. They are encouragers. They are supporters. They are advice givers and perspective seekers. They are cheerleaders. They are motivators. They are everything I hope to be and more.
When I thanked my parents for all they have done for me after my final game, my dad said “just remember our grandkids and do the same for them.” I hope to be half the parent my mom and dad are to me. I owe a lot of who I am to you, and who I am destined to become, too.
I have so many words and emotions I wish I could express. I waited to write because I couldn’t find any sentences that conveyed how I truly felt. I waited to write because the words didn’t come. I waited to write because I hoped the emotion would subside. I waited to write because I wasn’t ready to accept. Although none of this has changed, here I am, trying. I can only hope what I’ve struggled to convey in this post does the last 17 years justice.
These past 17 years have been such a whirlwind. There were highs…and there were lows, but every single moment, every ounce of sweat dropped, knee-scraped, tear-cried, and burst of laughter belted has led me to the person I am today. Soccer has been a part of me for the majority of my life, but what I have come to realize is that soccer is just that—a part of me. It is not all of me. This game has watched me grow up and has helped me evolve and transform throughout the years and while it is hard to say goodbye, I know this sport will continue to shine bright in my life for the decades to come. Whether it’s failing a test and then using the perseverance I learned on the field to do better next time or implementing my passion for sports into my passion for my career post-grad, my time spent on the field will leave a lasting impact on who I am. I am so thankful to have had the memories, moments, opportunities, and experiences I have in my lifetime. The teammates. The coaches. The wins. The losses. Everything inbetween. In a time where I find myself so sad, I am grateful to remember that at the end of the day, I am beyond blessed to have even had the athletic career I did.
In the wise words of Dr. Seuss, “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”
I'll hold onto that.
I could sit and reflect about how much I’m scared to be done with sports forever, how much being retired sucks, and how much I miss the feeling of pride on that field. I could write about how much I miss the stadium lights, the 6a.m. lifts, and the brisk air on a crisp fall day. I could explain how much I miss the long bus rides, the pre-game jitters, the dance moves to ease the nerves, and the sore, scabbed, and scraped legs post-game. I could spend my time conveying how much I miss the defeat of failure, the joy of success, the ball at my feet, and my teammates surrounding me, supporting me, encouraging me. The early mornings. The late nights. The push. The drive. The determination. The grit. The learning. The molding. The sacrifice. The resilience. The struggling. The growing. However, no one ever moved forward crying about and missing the past. Hopefully in writing this I will find the comfort and closure I need to use what I’ve learned the past 6,205 days as an athlete in my next chapter of life. The one I am hoping will be even grander.
So, I say thank you.
Thank you to four year old me. Thank you for diving head first into every single thing you did. Thank you for your drive and determination to never give up. Thank you for your zest for life and genuine passion and joy. Thank you for your lofty dreams and big aspirations. Thank you for your work ethic and grit. Thank you for your resilience and persistence. Thank you for your perspective and attitude. Thank you for your attention to detail and care. Thank you for your strength and might. Thank you for your happiness and humor. Thank you for never giving up, and for especially never hanging up your cleats. You had so many options, so many choices. Between ice skating and ballet. Choir and dance. Softball and basketball. Art and tap. Golf and Girl Scouts. You clung to soccer. You held it tight. You never let it go. You grew into me because of that choice. You may not have known it then, but your gravitation toward that soccer ball led to the greatest and grandest adventure I, 21 year old you, never could have imagined. I owe a lot of who I am to you.
Thank you to the black and white ball that gave me it all. From my earliest friends and mentors to the lessons and tests of true strength. The laughter and fun. The tears and the heartbreak. The work ethic and grit. The success and accomplishment. The failure and resilience. The want, the hunger, the drive. The fun, the happiness, the passion. The feeling of equality as I battled against boys at the Castaic Sports Complex. The feeling of improvement as I shifted from the Sports Complex to AYSO where we spent countless hours at tournaments with the coolest customizable sweatshirts and best kettle corn. The feeling of pride when I transitioned from AYSO to club where my abilities were tested and my love for you constantly grew. The feeling of fun as I continued to evolve and take those new skills onto my high school turf at West Ranch. The feeling of joy as you led me to the greatest and most unexpected adventure: Coe College in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Through all the friends, all the teammates, and all the coaches. All the grades, classes, and projects. All the doctor appointments, bad blood sugars, and frustrations. All the holidays, seasons of life, and memories. All the years that went by as I molded, adapted, and grew. Every downfall in my life and every uprising, YOU have remained constant—YOU never changed. I owe a lot of who I am to you.
Thank you to my coaches and trainers who believed in me. I know I have frustrated you and I know there have been moments I let you down. However, I am so thankful for the coaches turned mentors who guided, challenged, and pushed me throughout my 17 years of athletics. While I was slow to give my dad up as a coach during the transition from AYSO to club, I quickly found that if you’re lucky, coaches don’t have to be connected by blood to treat you like their own. It is rare to have an athletic career with the amount of astounding coaches as I have had. (Especially when those coaches have to deal with the bipolar highs and lows of a type one diabetic). From basketball and softball to soccer and track, I have been blessed with the best people directing my sports career. There were moments I wanted to give up. Instances I didn’t think I could. Occasions where I doubted. Frustrations with diabetes. Hurt from injuries. Unhappiness with performance. But for every ounce of grievance and dissatisfaction I displayed, my coaches and trainers were the first to reassure me, point my vision in the right direction, and remind me of my potential and capabilities, not only as an athlete, but as a person, too. Never was I allowed to be comfortable or complacent. Never was I allowed to sulk or doubt. My coaches wouldn’t stand for it. They were more than mere “coaches,” they were more than mere "trainers"—they were my #1 fans, supporters, encouragers, and motivators. They were my inspirations, cheerleaders, and mentors. They were invested, caring, and loving. They were patient, wise, and kind. I owe a lot of who I am to you.
Thank you to the parents of my teammates. Whether you know it or not, you were a huge part of my athletic career. From your cheers on the sideline to your high fives and “well done’s” after games, you, too, watched me grow up and transform into who I am today alongside my blood parents. The many meals you paid for me, times you drove me in carpool, and moments of care when my parents weren’t there and you filled in, you have been there through it all. I owe a lot of who I am to you.
Thank you to my teammates who stood by my side (on and off the field). From Castaic Sports Complex to Coe, it has been the absolute best ride. It wasn’t always easy, it wasn’t always fun, but because of you, my love for soccer never faded, never ceased, never declined. Being on the field together and sharing jerseys has given me so much pride over the last 17 years and will always remain in such a special place in my heart. Most of my memories have you in them, you know? Good and bad, we went through it all together. Missed PK’s that lost the championship. Declining playing time. Self-doubt. Momentary losses of love for the game. Hard lifts. Long bus rides. Missing home. Losing family members. Bad practices. Worse games. Life threatening blood sugars. Boy problems. Friend problems. School problems. Life problems. You were there for me as I was there for you. Like Legos, stacking one on top of the other to support one another until we reached our top, our success, our moment to shine. Earned championships. Gained playing time. Self-confidence. Bursts of love for the game. Challenging, but awesome, lifts. Conversation-filled bus rides. Appreciating home. Appreciating family members. Good practices. Great games. Overcoming bad blood sugars. Boyfriends. Best friends. Classroom success. Love for life. You have been beside me in all stages of my life. You have helped me grow. You have taught me lessons. You have pushed me and challenged me and motivated me. You have laughed with me. You have cried with me. You have encouraged me. Loved me. Believed in me. Supported me. Inspired me. Fulfilled me. I owe a lot of who I am to you.
Thank you to my family. I took a lot of things for granted in the past 17 years of sports, but the main one I never acknowledged enough was you. Not every kid is lucky enough to have the opportunity to play sports at such a young age. To sign up for camp after camp. Try out for sport after sport. The choice to sacrifice luxury, house projects, and vacations for another year of sports, another year of soccer. Not every kid is lucky enough to have parents who support them in all they want to do. Parents who coach their kids after work and on their days off. Parents who spend countless hours traveling and watching practices and games. Parents who make the effort to be (overly) involved in their child’s athletic career. Not every kid is lucky enough to have the chance to play college soccer. The push from his or her family to spread their wings and fly. The encouragement to take that next step. The confidence to dive in. Words cannot even describe how thankful I am for my family and all they have done for me during my athletic career. I know there were hard times. My dad works five jobs just to provide for our family and be able to support the financial immensity of soccer. My mom also works fulltime. There have been house improvements-subsided, vacations-skipped, and wants ignored just so I could pass a ball around a field. The miles on their cars. The miles they’ve flown. The money-spent just to watch me play. The heartbreak after tough losses. The few nasty teammates. The frustrations on the field. The doubt. The lack of confidence. The confusion. The tears. They felt that pain, too. The years of sacrifices. The years of struggling financially. The years of heartache as mine transcended to theirs. I cannot even imagine all they have done for me to do what I love. All they’ve given up to then give to me. Of course there have been great times, too. The smiles from the stands. The nods of support after a good play. The “let’s go, Bear” hoots and hollers. The post-game hugs and hive fives. The reassurance. The advice. The insight. The support. The joy of a great win. The pride of overcoming failure. A new skill-gained. A new lesson-learned. But, my appreciation comes from the times that were not easy—the moments that were not always smooth. Because no matter how bumpy their path was, they always, always, always, did what they had to do to support me in my sports. Always gave me a hug as I cried and encouraged me out on the field, even as their heart was breaking, too. Always kicked the ball with me even after a long day at work. Always bought me cleats, even if the ones that felt best broke the bank. I cannot even fathom. I cannot even comprehend.
One of my fondest memories of playing sports growing up was my parents’ dedication to always be at every single event, no matter how far or for how long. One of my dad’s jobs is to work at a golf course weekend mornings. However, he never let this stop him from coming to my weekend tournaments. He would drive 2, even sometimes 3, hours to my games after getting off work even if it meant he would only catch the last 15 minutes. When I transitioned to college, my parents flew to Cedar Rapids, 15 times to watch me play in person. And every time they weren’t able to come, they would watch the live stream of the game while at work and then call me after with their encouragement and love. As I entered my last college game, I wasn’t 100% sure if they would be there because our spot in the Tournament was solidified only four days prior. Yet as I arrived to field, there they were. My parents. They booked a flight Tuesday night for a Saturday afternoon game. Knowing it could be my last game, my parents said, “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
As I try to keep writing, tears flood my eyes. I know everyone says they have the best parents, but none compare to mine. They are more than just "mom and dad." They are best friends. They are mentors. They are inspirations and role models. They are encouragers. They are supporters. They are advice givers and perspective seekers. They are cheerleaders. They are motivators. They are everything I hope to be and more.
When I thanked my parents for all they have done for me after my final game, my dad said “just remember our grandkids and do the same for them.” I hope to be half the parent my mom and dad are to me. I owe a lot of who I am to you, and who I am destined to become, too.
I have so many words and emotions I wish I could express. I waited to write because I couldn’t find any sentences that conveyed how I truly felt. I waited to write because the words didn’t come. I waited to write because I hoped the emotion would subside. I waited to write because I wasn’t ready to accept. Although none of this has changed, here I am, trying. I can only hope what I’ve struggled to convey in this post does the last 17 years justice.
These past 17 years have been such a whirlwind. There were highs…and there were lows, but every single moment, every ounce of sweat dropped, knee-scraped, tear-cried, and burst of laughter belted has led me to the person I am today. Soccer has been a part of me for the majority of my life, but what I have come to realize is that soccer is just that—a part of me. It is not all of me. This game has watched me grow up and has helped me evolve and transform throughout the years and while it is hard to say goodbye, I know this sport will continue to shine bright in my life for the decades to come. Whether it’s failing a test and then using the perseverance I learned on the field to do better next time or implementing my passion for sports into my passion for my career post-grad, my time spent on the field will leave a lasting impact on who I am. I am so thankful to have had the memories, moments, opportunities, and experiences I have in my lifetime. The teammates. The coaches. The wins. The losses. Everything inbetween. In a time where I find myself so sad, I am grateful to remember that at the end of the day, I am beyond blessed to have even had the athletic career I did.
In the wise words of Dr. Seuss, “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”
I'll hold onto that.