Second-String Soccer Player Learns Lessons on the Bench

It’s the second overtime of the game, and the score is tied 9-9. The kicker locks eyes with the goalie, each trying to psych the other out. The whistle cuts the tension like a blade, and the forward launches the ball into the lower right corner of the net. I go crazy with all the fans, but I’m not in the stands.
I’m on the bench.

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I’ve played in 110 degree weather, watching teammates faint from heat stroke. I’ve played in 10 degree weather, sloshing through snow and feeling like Frankenstein’s monster with numb, iron boots for legs. I’ve played for 11 coaches with four clubs in more than 1,000 soccer games. To say I’d do anything for the game would be an understatement.

My earliest memory of soccer was from when I was four years old. I remember I had gone in for a tackle and had gotten a particularly nasty scrape on my knee. Although this was the equivalent of a concussion for most of my preschool teammates, I remember refusing the Disney princess Bandaid from my coach and insisting on staying in the game.

That attitude hasn’t changed in my 13 year soccer career; however, your playing time isn’t guaranteed like it is in preschool. I’m an average player, but usually not a starter. I’m not the fastest or the strongest person on the field, and long runs are my seventh circle of hell. I’m not saying I’m some underdog or a weakling (I’ve dislocated one person’s shoulder and two people’s ankles, thank you very much). I’m just not the best.

But it doesn’t bother me. Nothing could pull me away from the smell of freshly-cut fields, the anticipation right before kick-off and the satisfaction of destroying the opposing team. But there are some things you see from the sidelines that you can’t see from the field.

For one thing, while I was picking acres worth of grass and watching my game in my younger years, I got a better sense of how the game really works. If you figure that I have watched around 60,000 hours of soccer, it’s safe to say I have a pretty firm grasp on what is expected for every aspect of the game. This made it easier to recognize every opportunity during the game, making the most of my play.

Most professional soccer players will only have control of the ball for less than five minutes of every 90 minute game. So when you’re a high schooler playing maybe half of an 80 minute game, it’s even tougher to prove yourself in the time allotted. That’s how I learned that you have to take advantage of every chance you have on the field. It may be for two minutes or 10 minutes, but you have to leave everything you’ve got on the field every time you’re out there.

This is especially true if you have a coach who thinks he’s training the next Messi. At some point in their careers, these coaches decided that channeling their professional dreams through pre-pubescent teenagers was a good idea, so they started coaching soccer. Most aren’t willing to face the facts that most fifth graders aren’t getting up for 8 a.m. games on a Saturday to be verbally abused by their coach while watching the “stars in training” for an hour, but would rather play a game they love and enjoy with their friends. For most developing kids, especially teenage girls, excessive criticism and punishment doesn’t have good results. I know my already overly-emotional, freshman self got severe confidence issues from such a coach.

It’s a big reason why I always look forward to high school season. I’m thankful that my coaches in high school have upstanding character as well as soccer skills. The coaches are impartial and play their players based on work ethic and success. It’s in this environment that my skills have improved and excelled, with encouragement and constructive criticism and actual coaching.

So as I realize that I can count the days left in the spring season on two hands, I am more determined than ever to keep sprinting faster and shooting harder. Whether I’m screaming for the cross or cheering from the side, one thing’s for sure: I’ll see you at the game.

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