Sweat drips from your forehead, in the heat of the evening sun. Arm around arm, you look at your teammates -- beat up, torn apart, one or two may even have blood running down from freshly torn open scrapes. Breathing in heavily in between gulps of ice cold water you listen to your coach explain the next move of attack. Your legs are shaking and your heart is racing out of pure adrenaline. It's overtime.
The score is three-three, a well battled out game that has pushed you to physical exhaustion but you're not done yet. You re-adjust the shin guards pushed down towards you cleats in time to hear the whistle to report back to the war zone of exhilarating passion called soccer.
People often question why we play. Why put yourself through the pain? Why run endless miles just to stay in shape? Why take hits, get slammed into next week, get thrown to the ground just to put a ball in the back of the net?
I'll tell you why.
For the little girl just three-years-old strapping on her first pair of cleats.
She's your inspiration. She wanted to be exactly who you are now. A collegiate athlete battling the other bigs kids on the big field that seemed to be the size of the sky. She held your daddy's hand in the store not picking out the pink cleats because black looked tough. For the little girl that dressed up as Mia Hamm not once, but twice for Halloween two years in a row baffled when she had to explain to the other kids who she was. We play for her.
For everyone who said you'd never make it.
There were lots of people a long the way who said you weren't good enough to play with the boys, weren't good enough, to make the varsity your freshman year, weren't good enough to make an elite club team, weren't good enough to play college ball. We proved them wrong. We proved them all wrong. The effort and endless practices alone after hours have paid off. and your goals are at your hands, or should I say feet. We play for them.
For any lost loved ones, teammates, friends who inspired you.
We lose more than just games in this world. Diseases suck, old age sucks, cancer sucks. They take things that we can even imagine living with out. But when we're on the field, we feel them with us. Guiding us to make our decisions, giving us the strength to pull through the toughest moments. Reaching out with an open hand to pull us back up after a excruciating hit. We play for them.
For the 10 other women who would fight for you till the end.
We rise together, we fall together. We win together we lose together. Training seems unbearable day in and day out but the thrill of the ball sinking into the back of the net initiating the celebration with the woman who gave you the moments of your life goes unmatched. The bond between all of you is one that will last forever. It is unreachable and impossible to define, it is more than love itself. We play for them.
For the love of the game.
It's a never ending burning passion to be on the field. To stop an incoming attacker from crossing the defensive line makes you feel superior to all of the rest. To celebrate the wins with the women you will love for life. We are capable of relieving all stress and empowering energy with the movement of our feet. We feel alive, we feel the passion, we feel that gut feeling that comes with every kick off. We can't imagine the day we will hang up our cleats for good bringing our career to an end. We play for it.
