The following morning, driving into campus, I feel my spirits start to lift. The three and a half years I spent here were probably the happiest of my life.
Sad, but true.
Coach Dawes was more of a father figure than my own father. We had a magic and chemistry on that team that I haven’t found since. And losing that was hard on me. Looking back now, I know I didn’t handle things as I should have.
It wasn’t that I burned bridges per se. It’s more that I left without looking back. The chapter was closing. It was time to turn the page and not re-read anything. Over the years, it’s been perceived as an attitude and snobbery. That I thought I was “too good” to associate with those I deemed “lesser.”
It wasn’t that at all.
Truth be told, I don’t really know how to people.
I know how to play soccer, and that’s it.
Ask any of the women I’ve dated.
Ask my ex-wife.
Katherine often told me I didn’t know how to relate to others. I didn’t listen to her. I tried to, though. At least I did until I found out how good she was at relating with others, if you know what I mean. I wasn’t good at the emotional connection crap when we were dating, and it’s not like it improved for the year we were married. Mostly because I was focused on my season, and she was focused on her boyfriends.
Those things generally don’t make for a successful relationship.
She was more interested in being a WAG than a wife. I know, WAG means Wives and Girlfriends, but she wanted the title and prestige, not the actual relationship. She wanted me for my name and my status and for something that I wasn’t. I wasn’t going to be one of those guys all over Instagram and ClikClak, helping to build her business as an influencer.
It’s not my jam and never will be.
Hell, the only reason I even have accounts is because Justice made me. His assistant, Heaven, created them and updates them more than I do. It’s always weird to visit my profile and see the stuff she uploaded. But I trust her with my logins.
Heaven probably knows more about me than any woman since Katherine. Actually, she probably knows more about me than Katherine ever did. Katherine married a sports star. I’m totally positive she didn’t give two shits about who Callaghan was, other than a professional soccer player.
Not many people in my life have cared about that person.
Probably a good thing, because I’m not sure who he is either. Everything in my life revolves around the game, even in the off-season. Let’s face it, there’s no off-season. Not really. There are no games and no formal practices, but the training doesn’t stop. The rehab doesn’t stop. The pain doesn’t stop.
Driving into Bloomington, it occurs to me that the last time anyone expected anything from me besides soccer was when I was here. That was a long time ago. Teachers expected me to be a student and learn. And outside of the team, I even had a friend who expected me to show up and study. Sure, Hannah and I became friends because she was on the girls’ team and we had a class together, but as we trained in the gym, we eventually moved past soccer.
She was one of the casualties when I left school to go to Nevada without looking back.
It was easier for me to cut ties than be pulled in multiple directions. I had—have—one job, and that is blocking shots on goal.
I’ve never figured out how to have my attention on more than one thing at a time, and soccer’s always been the number one priority, so I deleted all my social media and left my old life behind. That way, there was no temptation to relive my glory days in Bloomington.
Now, staring down at what might be the beginning of the end of my career, I have no idea what a life outside of soccer will look like. The mere thought sends waves of panic rippling through my body.
And that mindset, going into practice and talking with the Hoosiers in the gym, might not have been the best for creating a motivational speech. They were ranked second going into the start of this season but finished a disappointing fourteenth. Most people won’t understand that being the fourteenth-ranked D1 collegiate team in the nation is disappointing, but seeing as how my team finished in the top four, I get it.
It’s number one or nothing at all.
As the team gathers ’round me, I offer these uplifting words of wisdom. “You’re a disappointment. You know it. I know it. Don’t worry, I am too. We have one job to do, and we failed miserably. No one wants you for anything other than your ability to put a ball into a goal. To outrun, outshoot, and outscore your opponent. To block the shots and make the saves. And when you don’t do it, you let everyone down. You need to leave everything behind except the game. Be the game. You are nothing if you can’t win.”
I try not to see the disappointment on Coach Dawes’s face when I leave campus. Avoiding relationships and expectations has worked for me thus far. I just need to keep doing it.
Except, as I fly back to Boston, I can’t help but think about what I said to the team. Sure, leaving everything else behind is great when you need to be ready for a game, but what happens when the game is over? What do you have then?
