Dear Soccer

To the sport that has been my life for the last 18 years, what a whirlwind.

I don't remember a time when soccer was not a part of my life.

My story begins at the Tony Glavin indoor field. Four years old and I vaguely remember ducking and dodging shots that came my way. Dad quickly realized I was not fit to be a goalie, crushing his National Champion dreams. Things didn’t get any better when I was scared to touch the ball or jump into the mob of kids fighting over the ball. Maybe soccer wasn’t for me?

Years later and sticking with it, I’d say things on the field got better, but I hit a wall mentally. There was a point when I didn’t want to play anymore. I was tired. I felt like there was an expectation that I had to meet and that I wasn’t going to. After a little tough love, I kept playing.

Finding the player I am, I finally fell in love with soccer.

Time for high school and I was so excited to play at the next level. Awaiting the spring season, I ran cross country and played basketball in the winter. Burning out of my freshman year, it was time for soccer tryouts. The next three seasons were memorable, but senior season was beyond memorable. Honestly, my team was a powerhouse. The girls had a grit to them that I hadn’t seen before. But, we were young, so I thought a run for state was out of the question but when the wins kept coming I thought differently. End of the season came and I about hit rock bottom. A classmate who I had gone on retreat with, learned his story and became friends with, had passed away. My head was not in the game. I was feeling all my feelings while trying to lead this team to state. It was hard to be in the locker room. It was hard to go to class every day. It was hard to lose to a team we should’ve beat. Things were different.

Days went by and some reflection was done, the mood changed. Wearing his initials on our wrists every game, the thought of actually playing for something bigger than ourselves became real. Then we won districts. Then we won sectionals. Then we won the quarterfinals against our biggest rival. We FINALLY made it in the Final Four for the first time in five years. One road trip to KC, two games, a thunderstorm, and 14 pks later, we were dog piling and getting our champion medals. We had made school history despite the crazy few months we had.

I thought the dream was getting to wear the blue and white, then I put on the red and black. ­­The college game was immediately different. The game was quicker, the girls were bigger, not to mention way older. Little freshman me was shaking in her cleats standing on the line waiting to go in for the first time at outside back. Fast forward a few years later and I’m a senior midfielder.

Reflecting on the red and black is making me tear up. My recruitment story is one of my favorite ones to tell since it was a complete accident I stumbled upon Benedictine College. It was the summer before junior year and I was sending emails out to college coaches that were going to be at a showcase I was attending. I saw Benedictine University was on the list, a school in the Chicago area. “Why not email them,” I thought to myself. Well, I ended up not emailing them. I didn’t realize there could be two Benedictine's… a.k.a. College vs University. I went ahead and clicked the first Benedictine that popped up which ended up being a small school in Atchison, KS. Turns out the coach was not going to be at the showcase, then why was he on the list? Oh… this is definitely not the same school. But the campus looks beautiful, they have everything I may want to study, they have a successful soccer team, and the coach still seems interested even though he wasn’t who I meant to email. I went ahead and visited, Lincoln showed up at the showcase anyway, I signed up for the ID camp, and then the offer came. I didn’t even email Benedictine University. Best mistake ever.

Since the “mistake,” we have given Grand View our uniforms in the Conference Tournament. Attended many Halloween practices as Cards Against BCWS, Slinky from Toy Story, Willy Wonka, and The Royal Family. Forgotten Madalynn on an away trip. Hit Lincoln during crossbar. Raided Willies and Lickity Split too many times. Threw loads of turf at Pap. Recorded lots of handshakes. Drank just the right amount of energy drinks and eaten an unhealthy amount of fruit snacks.

This last season was all about enjoying my final moments on the field. Going through preseason one more time. Soaking up the hot turf. Shouting biscuit basket. Staring at the videoboard to watch the hype video. Pregame handshakes with Faith. Game day fruit snacks and Gatorade. Listening to different versions of cucumber water. Getting team pushup on the first try. MoVal mustaches. Team dinners. Preseason team bonding. Screaming Dixieland Delight in every locker room. The fight song after wins. The Raven family was different from the beginning to the end.

I wish I could go up to everyone that supported me in my 18 year soccer career, but that would quite literally be impossible. I can only hope they know how grateful I am. My biggest thanks goes to my parents. The amount of sacrifice it took to get me where I am was not easy. Not to mention how many cleats were bought. Club coach, Rick Kuehn, for guiding us through the stressful time called recruitment. High school coach, Greg Koeller, for pushing us like champions. And all assistants who helped motivate and talk through the nitpicky things games or practices brought.

I am thankful for all that soccer was. It was lots of miles on the road. It was missed birthdays or holidays because of tournaments. It was “sorry I have practice.” It was drinks at the gas station with dad after practice. It was hundreds of relationships made. It was learning perseverance, work ethic, balance, competitiveness. It was a state championship senior year of high school. It was coaching littles with Brooklyn. It was Faith’s freshman drawings and game day texts. It was game day hair. It was the Rowdy Ravens. It was Dance Monkey, When I Look At You, Imma Bee, and Dixieland Delight.

Game day energy, you’ll be what I miss the most. Replicating it through retirement won’t be easy. I can sit under the lights. I can smell the hot turf. I can hear the sound of cleats going back and forth from the locker room. I can feel the ball on my foot. I can see packed stands and hear cheer after cheer. But nothing is going to live up to the feeling of stepping on the field, looking at our opponents, and competing with my closest friends.

Soccer, I will never forget the lessons you taught me. #10 out.