The first soccer team I ever played on was called the Pink Piglets and my dad was my coach. We all wore baggy, pale pink shirts and ran around different patches of grass in Denver playing other similarly named teams like the Red Salmon or the Yellow Bumblebees. I was so nervous on my first day that I asked my mom if she could buy me a suit of armor to wear to practice instead of just shin guards.
One girl on my team always had a pink monkey stuffed animal around her neck, even at games, and another girl’s signature move was to sit on the ball in the middle of the field. I wore my neon green shin guards on the outside of my socks and sometimes I wore a skirt to practice.
While I’d love to be able to say that these memories felt like they were yesterday, the truth is that they’ve never felt quite so distant. My senior night for high school soccer is in a few days, and although I am filled with immense enthusiasm, I also find myself struggling to say goodbye to a sport that has truly given me so much.
Each time someone asks me whether or not I am playing soccer in college, my head begins to ache. I used to think it was because I was irritated with the same repeating question, but as time passes, I am beginning to think that maybe the question bothers me so much because it forces me to come to terms with the imminent loss of such a large part of my identity when I reply with “no.”
Saying goodbye to soccer also means saying goodbye to the sport that brought me some of my favorite people. It means saying goodbye to my car, full of teammates, music audible from a mile away, driving to home games every weekend. It means saying goodbye to team dinners and to pre game traditions. Team travel. Boxed lunches. Braiding hair before games and writing on my legs with Sharpie for good luck. All coming to an end.
As I try to separate myself from my sport in preparation for a clean break in a few short months, it is becoming more apparent how thoroughly soccer has seeped into every aspect of my life. I don’t know where I would be without the people I have met on the soccer field. From coaches to friends, each person I have played with or against has played a part in eventually molding me into who I am today. I can’t simply untangle myself from these relationships, nor do I want to. I am endlessly grateful for the people I have met along the way.
Along with people, I have learned so many lessons through soccer. I have learned how to be patient, how to work hard, and how to push myself to my limits. After thirteen years of playing soccer, I can say without a doubt that this sport has made me a better person. Despite my journey coming to an end, I feel so lucky to have been able to compete in the sport I will always love for the majority of my life.
I wonder if the little girl in a purple tutu wearing her pink soccer jersey would be proud of how far I’ve come. Would she be disappointed that I am giving up something that has brought me so much joy? Or would she commend me for making the most of it while I can? Either way, although I know college soccer is not for me, I am devastated to say goodbye. Most of my favorite memories—and many of my favorite people— come from the sport . I wish I could keep playing this beautiful game forever, but it’s like they say, all things must come to an end.
