I know we’ve discussed my soccer career previously and you’re probably sick of hearing about it and also wondering if I have a life. I do. I promise. However, a new angle wouldn’t hurt. The ups and downs in my career have come and gone with each new city. I’ve learned to absorb the meaningful lessons and leave the rest behind, an invaluable quality to maintain during the life span of a player.
However, this article isn’t about my dealings with life and soccer alone. Instead, in light of the upcoming holiday, I’ll be discussing the plethora of roles my mother has taken on throughout this winding road my career has carved.
First, let’s visit a vivid soccer memory of mine. I am in Tuscon, Arizona with the Chicago Fire. It is the first pre-season trip with my new team. Moreover, it is my sudden introduction to the professional lifestyle. After several bad training sessions and continuous awkward teammate interactions, I realized the MLS is not college and all the new faces intimidated me. My world became rather small, and adversity a new nemesis. Each night I would retreat back to my hotel room with loneliness that plagued my mind. I would gravitate towards thoughts like, “just hop on a plane and fly away from this.” “Go back to Texas where your family is.” “I made the wrong decision, go back to Wake and finish school.” I was convincing myself that options still existed outside of the current horror.
Naturally, I called my mom and the floodgates opened. I cried. I vented. I didn’t understand. You’re welcome to call that soft or overdramatic and you might be right, but it happened. I wanted to walk away because it wasn’t what I thought it would be. It was my first taste of life outside a comfort zone and my mom knew something I didn’t; it was exactly where I needed to be.
I told you that story because it was probably the first time my mom realized how deflating soccer could be. It was the first time she had to reassure me that soccer was something I valued too much to just give up. That night is just one example of how my mother’s role as a parent and soccer mom evolved. More impressively, she embraced each new role with unconditional love.
I remember the club soccer days. Waking up early on Saturday morning and meandering down the stairs with my eyes half open to eat a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit. Ten minutes later we were in the car and heading to the field. I don’t remember the car ride, though. I don’t think I was awake for any of those. She would stand on the end of the field arms crossed behind her back and watch quietly, but attentively enough to not miss a roll of the ball.
She was among maybe 50 sets of eyes then. She would greet me after the game. We’d say bye to the other parents and players, head to the car and another weekend would pass. It was well-rounded fun that stopped and started with whistles, nothing more, nothing less than a simple game. That went on for a while and our love for soccer grew simultaneously.
My mom was the backbone during my beginning soccer days. Plain and simple, if she wasn’t willing to give up her time and money during those early years I wouldn’t have made it to the college or pro ranks.
As club soccer came to an end she encouraged me to take the next step. I chose to leave Plano to go to Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. She knew the magnitude of the opportunity and supported my decision despite it being thousands of miles away. So, did that change her role?
She was no longer occupying every sideline, or dropping me off with “good luck” attached. She was listening, streaming, and eventually calling me for my assessment of the game. It was weird at first, looking in the crowd and knowing she wasn’t there. Nevertheless, I knew she was watching. I’ll never truly know how the change made her feel. How drastic it must have been to be at every game, driving me to and from, looking in my eyes to congratulate or console me, and then abruptly be absent from it all.
She watched me grow up on the field. Taught me tirelessly under her watchful eye. Now her role warranted trust in what she had instilled in me those 18 years prior, and I had an equally important responsibility of making her proud on and off the field.
A few years later the distance increased and her role continued to change. I entered the MLS Draft and was once again moving to a new city. She could now only watch the game on TV. Listening to announcers give their opinion about her son. She had to sign up for things like MLS Live or ESPN 3. My volatile professional career called upon her to change once more.
As the early story alluded, as soon as I became a professional she was no longer just a fan. She transitioned into a confidant, as well. She has been my outlet ever since. An ear that listens to all my dilemmas, complaints, or triumphs, even responding to my first tattoo with, “it’s your body.”
No matter the role, my mother has been a gale wind force beneath my wings and the patience and perseverance that I have developed as a professional athlete is directly attributed to my mom and her selfless, calming belief in me.
Stop and think about your mother. Think about everything she’s done for you. Think about all the moments you’ve shared; the laughs, smiles, arguments, and love that has filled your life. Think about what she has given up for you. That probably took you a while, huh? I’m humbled by my mom and continue to be surprised by the love she persistently shares. She has enabled me to be a thoughtful and caring person, but the love she gives my soccer career is the reason I’ve made it 24 years with a ball at my feet.
Thank you, Mom.
Happy Mother’s Day to all the lovely mothers in the world. Please continue to inspire and mentor the kids that look up to you. We’re listening.
Oh, and before I forget, Happy Mother’s Day to the mothers-to-be, also. There is currently a special place in my heart for you.
