Women's World Cup: Hometown Hero

   

 It surprises people that I played Varsity Soccer in high school.  Some people passively acknowledge their disbelief by making vague comments about “athletic people,” of which I am clearly not considered. Others just come right out and say it, “God, I would NEVER think that YOU played sports, you just don’t…uhhh…like seem like the type.” But I did, I played three seasons of varsity sports and in my senior year I was captain of  two: soccer and lacrosse.  Believe me...I don’t say this to brag.  My graduating class was 42 people, roughly half of us were girls.  Also, we had more than one sport to choose from… so, despite having a lazy eye and being legally blind without my glasses, I was, at the time, considered one of the most athletic people in my tiny Private School bubble.  

The weird thing about a small private school is that you have many “athletes” like myself who love the game and have a healthy competitive nature.  But then there are others with honest to goodness insane talent. Truly Big Fish in small ponds. But none as big as one that arose from our rival school, Christian Heritage. As the Women’s World Cup races on and I continually see her on TV, being an all star, and I marvel that I really and truly know her.  I mean, not on like a heart to heart level, she did go to our rival school after all but being from such a small world, I was good friends with her cousin and my youngest sister was inseparable from hers at summer camp. Our parents were friends as well.  

It’s surreal for me how  far she has come. She has flown out of the small pond we both came from and end up dominating in the real freaking ocean.  It makes me feel proud and jealous and just all around amazed that an every day person, real flesh and blood is capable of the super human feats we see on TV.  

Unless you also went to private school in Connecticut you may not know that I am talking about the tough as nails Alyssa Naeher.  Now, I will admit, when I first met her on the pitch I was less enthusiastic than I am now, watching from my couch.  

In my senior season of soccer two eighth grade twins were allowed onto our rival school’s soccer team. This was not unheard of since our schools were small and often lacked numbers.  But these two were much more than numbers. The twins did not appear threatening at first.  They were identical, short and skinny with bowl cuts that never seemed to fall into their eyes. They were wiry, tough and absolutely unstoppable.  One of them played goalie and one striker (actually they both probably played both. I honestly don’t know.)  We often made jokes that they’d have to get sick or hurt for us to even have a chance.   For years they dominated our league.  No-one scored against the goalie, no-one could stop the striker.  My younger sister played them without success, then my youngest sister as well. Finally, they went off to college and the rest of the league returned to status quo.  

But seriously, watching her rise to national and international level is inspirational.  She was young and talented but that is never enough.  She had setbacks, she had losses, she had to wait and wait and wait….but she never gave up.  And the hard work, the day in day out dedication is paying off.  I love to watch her play and for all us New Englanders I think she truly deserves the title of  Hometown Hero.

Coach

    It’s hard to write about those that we have loved and lost.  But sometimes its the best thing we can do because words written amidst of tears can be like the tears of a Phoenix, healing us as we rise from the ashes. And it is from ash and dust that we all begin and to dust we all return.
    I often wonder if there is truth in the lyrics claiming “only the good die young.”  It feels like that to me.  It’s always the good ones, the people you want to hold onto forever who are suddenly gone. 
     So it was with my coach this past weekend.  For those of you who have ever played a sport and especially to those of you who have ever been an underdog, you have that coach.  The one who always believed in you, who never gave up on you even when you wanted to give up on yourself.  It’s almost as if they’ve walked out of the Remember the Titans script and are making it come true in your very own crazy life.
     My coach was named Ginny Hill.  At least that was her name when I met her as a 4 foot sixth grader, trying out for the middle school soccer team.  To be clear although the tryouts were really more of a formality than an actual culling process since we all made it in some sense of the word, I was facing them with coke bottle thick glasses, zero sports experience and little of hope of doing more than “riding the pine pony” or “keeping the starters spots warm” as you will… so when the very first game she started me in goal no less, I was speechless.  Coach told me later, when I made Varsity as a freshman that she chose me for my heart, my “lion bird heart,” a nickname my college roommate later resurrected. She changed my life that day she put me in goal and she continued to do so for the next 3 years of middle school.   It is part of the reason I love to teach middle school.  My own experience was so poignant.  I grew a quarter of an inch but leaps and bounds in confidence and friendships.         Coach had a pretty big 3 years too. The team fought side by side with her against her first bout with cancer.  I remember how seriously we took each poster we made her and each round of chemo she conquered.  She was a hero to all of us and amidst this crazy battle, she got engaged and married! 
    She could never convince me that anyone would ever be good enough for her.  She was a saint.  But as I got to know Paul over the next 20 years, he won me over.  He became a mentor to me as well, with his humble servant’s heart and constant faith in the face of hardship.  Every day found them with a smile on their faces, even at times amidst tears.  I saw them less and less after moving across the country and then back but she always made time for me.
     I won’t be there tomorrow to celebrate her life in CT but I will be thinking of her and telling all my kids about how God used her in my life. 

The Holy "No" by Marion Dietrich

Somewhere along the line in our lives, we embrace the idea that it is better to say yes when asked to do something than to say no. Teens,young adults, and middle-aged people find themselves, due to this constant willingness, exhausted, unfocused, and even resentful when asked to do yet another "thing.”  And before we go any further, let me say that I was and am guilty as charged of saying yes too often. However, a wise friend taught me an invaluable lesson and it is my goal to introduce you to the wonderfully freeing habit of saying no.

When Joe and I had been married a while, we were extremely active in our church, doing missions work, as well as teaching Bible studies, leading worship, and teaching Sunday School.  Oh yes, we also both worked full time. Our parents were all alive and we lived in the same town, so naturally we were invited to family get togethers.  I have a clear memory of telling my mother on a September morning that we did not have a free weekend until Christmas.  This information was not given in a sensitive manner and was received very poorly.  This is NOT an example of a holy no, and much damage was done by our zeal and passion.  It took years to restore our relationship.

Jump forward a number of years.  We still are very involved in our church, still have no children, still have parents we are trying to honor, still working full time. The phone rings and it is the husband of a family we know who do have children and he was calling to see if we could babysit for them.  Imagine a long awkward silence on my end. I informed him that I would have to talk to Joe and would get back to him shortly. When Joe and I looked at our calendars for work, church, family, alone time there was barely a space to be had.  The one crack on the ongoing litany of activity was, naturally, the time we were being asked to babysit.  We decided that no was the appropriate response in this instance.  So, I called back to deliver our answer. Imagine the long awkward silence on the other end.  Then came the sermon on carrying each other's burdens, caring for one another, etc. That relationship was also scarred for many years, but it is an example of a holy no.

As the years went by, we got asked to do more and more things.  Some fit nicely with our skill sets.  Some not at all.  My favorite request didn't even come to me directly. There was a need in our daughters' school for a girls' soccer coach for the JV team. Our oldest daughter, Katie, was at that particular stage. All the parents waited and prayed for someone to step forward. I thought my husband would have been a good coach or one of the P.E. teachers.  No one heard the call until one fall morning I had an alarming thought,"You do it!"  “What? I had never played organized sports in my life. I knew nothing about soccer. I didn't even own athletic clothing. But the thought persisted. So I volunteered. A friend wrote out drills for me, my husband did chalk talks, but I was the coach. And I got it in my head that I needed to be able to do whatever I was asking the girls to do. I ran with them, juggled the ball (terribly), demonstrated the drills for them, and we all laughed until we couldn't breathe. I am not sure if we won any games, but it was a winning season because we learned and progressed. This is an example of a holy yes.

The next fall, Katie and a few of her cohorts, were asked to play on the Varsity team and the coach asked me to be the assistant coach.  I was elated, overjoyed, thrilled...and I instantaneously said yes.  As the season began, one of my dear friends asked me how Katie felt about my new position. I hadn't asked her, but assumed she was fine.  However, before preseason started I asked her point blank, "Are you OK with this?" Again that long awkward silence for which I was completely unprepared. Her answer cut me to the quick. "It is all about what side of the line you are on, and I really would prefer that it is not the same side as me. I want you to be behind the line that defines the field."  I was dumbstruck. My husband worked at the school, her siblings went to the school, I volunteered at the school.  

"Exactly."

So the choice came down to honoring her request or abiding by a decision that made me feel needed, sporty, helpful, seen. This is an example of a holy no.  I chose my daughter over my ego. I chose to hear her instead of forcing my will. She needed a place where none of her family members were right beside her.  So I said no to coaching and yes to Katie. And I knew I made the right choice. 

These days we are asked to do multitudinous things.  We still look at our lives and our calendars, and we don't say no just go get out of doing things we don't do well, but to be good stewards of our time . An answer of no is just as holy as a call to say yes. And one extremely helpful hint: if whomever is asking you to commit to something can not wait for an answer, say no. 

The Basics of World Cup Soccer

I married into a soccer family.  I thought that I was from a soccer family.  I played from the time I was 10 on and my sister started at 6yrs old. I’d watched World Cup matches and even remember admiring Alexi Lalas and Kobe Jones as America’s hope in the 1990s.  

Alexi Lalas... On the field...

...off the field

But my in-laws...they are real soccer fans.  Like, stay home from work, call each other after every qualifier and friendly and injury update sort of soccer fans.  Not to mention that they are astoundingly skilled player to boot (pun intended.)

Probably the only soccer fans I know who are more dedicated are my sister’s inlaws, who are Brazillian...enough said.  

I’ve assembled a who’s who/ what’s what for myself so I don’t sound like an idiot when watching with my husband and I though I’d share it for anyone who might also need a cheat sheet.  

1. Here is the countries who are playing.  They are divided into 8 groups labeled A-H .  America is in Group G which is also known as the “Group of Death” because both Portugal and Germany usually make it to at least the quarter finals, and Ghana is always a contender too.  

2. “The best soccer player on earth” can refer to any of the following four people:

-Pele- played for Brazil back in the day and is an icon/idol in the futball world.

-Diego Maradona- played for Argentina back in the day and then coached for them last world cup.  Is bat-sh!#$ crazy but some argue better than Pele.

-Christiano Ronaldo- Plays for Portugal and seems to me the Tom Brady of the International Soccer World.  Uggs commercials, supermodels, etc.  Except there is no way that Tom Brady is even close to as conceited as Ronaldo.  (Can you tell he is not my favorite)

-Lionel Messi (he is my favorite)- If you like an underdog you’ll love him.  At 5 foot almost 7 inches he is small, to say the least.  Which is due to a growth plate injury he had as a child.  Amazingly he grew as tall as he is and is faster than lightening (not literally).  The only problem...he plays for Argentina, the bitter political, cultural and athletic enemies of Brazil.  I want him to win...but I don’t want a war to be waged over it. (not kidding).

3. Brazil is the winningest country in the history of the world cup.   They are banking everything on a hometown win. They have tons of ridiculously talented players but the one name you MUST know is Neymar Jr. He is unreal and probably should be added to fact #2 Best players in the world.

4. No, Landon Donovan (probably the one US soccer player you have heard of) was not chosen for the World Cup team by US coach Klinnsmen (Winner of the world cup with Germany in the 1990s...wait, what?!)  I know it’s strange.  I’m not a Donovan fan, I prefer Clint Dempsey to be our poster boy but it is a point of heated controversy and will undoubtedly be beat like a dead horse by the announcers.  

5. The games are called “matches,” the field is called “pitch”, the teams are called “sides.” Oh yeah and the sport, it’s called Football.