AuburnChick's Adventures

Please forgive me, but I’m feeling a bit melancholy right now.

I got home about 45 minutes ago from Soccer Chick’s game.  Her high school team played in the Regional Semi-finals.  To win would mean going to the Regional Finals.  A win there would mean a trip to the State Final Four.

Yeah, it was a big game.

Tonight’s opponent was the team we beat to win Districts.  Weird, eh?

Well, the top two teams from Districts got to move on to Regional playoffs, so they advanced, but we had home-field advantage.  They won their last game after playing two overtimes and then outscoring their opponent in PK’s (penalty kicks).  Not the fairest way to end a game, but it’s got to end sometime, and the kids can’t exactly run themselves to death.

So, we were facing a team we’d beaten twice this season and tied once.  The wins were close too, averaging less than two goals per win.

I had been a nervous wreck since last night.

I tried reminding myself that it’s only a game.  I tried calling to mind God’s Words that speak of peace.

Deep down inside, I really wanted this for the kids.

More importantly, I didn’t want Soccer Chick to get hurt.  My nerves are still fragile after all that she went through with her knee surgery.

The game was scoreless through the first half.  The second half was a carbon copy of its predecessor.  During regulation time, my heart nearly stopped as I watched, through the camera lens, as Soccer Chick took a brutal (and I do not exaggerate here) hit that took her and another player down.  She stayed down a few seconds but arose looking around with a question mark on her face.

The mom sitting in front of me kept repeating, “Soccer Chick is not okay.  Something is wrong with her.”

I carefully descended down the steps to the field, standing on the track as close as I could to her.  She looked at me and assured me that she was okay.

The other player stayed down for a while.  I felt so badly for Chicky.  She was stricken with pain in the knowledge that her play had injured the other girl.  I melted as I heard her apologize.

As I returned to my seat, I prayed and thanked the Lord that Soccer Chick was okay.

I watched as Soccer Chick crossed the field to talk to the player as she was assisted off the field.  She’s okay.  She had a bloody nose.  It would seem that Soccer Chick’s head  hit the other player’s nose.

And the game continued.

I watched Soccer Chick resume her play, never losing momentum despite the danger she had already placed herself in.

She was amazing.  I’m teary-eyed as I recall play after play where Soccer Chick came out of nowhere to take the ball away from an opposing player.  She passed to feet (soccer lingo for making passes that connect to same-team players), she headed balls that she shouldn’t have been able to reach.  She even megged a gal.  This is where you pass the ball between another player’s feet.  It’s cool, trust me…especially at full speed.

Soccer Chick wanted to win the game.  It was very clear in the way she played that she was playing to win.

The game ended in a tie.

Overtime.

Ten more minutes of near-goals, corner kicks, and throw-ins.

Tied.

A second overtime began.

A repeat of the first.

It ended in a tie.

PK’s.

Just what we didn’t want.

The opposing team has won all but one of its games that have gone into PK’s.

Five girls from each team sat and waited for their turn to kick the ball into the net.

I cringed as I saw Soccer Chick go up second, following one player from each team…players that made their shots.

She missed, kicking it high and hitting the crossbar.  She hung her head in disappointment.  My heart cried out for her.

This was so unlike her.  She faced a pressure that I can only imagine.  She’s 17 years old, for heaven’s sake.  Certainly not a World Cup player.

She wasn’t the only person on her team to miss.  Two others did.

Game over.

The other team won.

The stadium was quiet except for the other team’s wee contingent, which celebrated their hearts out.

Tears began to flow.

I eased to the field, uncertain of what to do.

All I wanted to do was hug Chicky.

We’ve been through this a few times, and I know she takes the losses personally each time.

How do you tell the girls that despite the score, they are a success?

Who defines success anyway?

The world says it’s the amount of money you earn, your grade point average, how you look, or the numbers on a scoreboard at the end of a game.

I beg to differ.

Success is watching a group of mismatched girls come together during a season to play like champions.

Success is never giving up, as evidenced by two overtime periods.  The game could have gone on all night.

Success is doing something so remarkable that half of the student body shows up for a game called soccer…in the South…where football and baseball rule.

Success is watching players shake hands with each other, graceful in defeat.

Success is the journey, seeing where you started and how far you’ve traveled.  To take even one step forward is success.

These girls dared to go farther than any local girls soccer team has ever gone.  They dared to dream beyond what many thought them capable of, including Your’s Truly.

This is how you define success.

Filed under: soccer | Tagged: high school, soccer, success | 4 Comments »