Category: Sports

We were split into two teams scrimmaging against each other. The boys I play with are competitive so there was the usual light trash talking, jersey pulling and agile foot skills. 

We were playing friendly rules with no corner kicks. My teammate, Gugu, was fouled in the makeshift goalie box and dramatically fell to the ground yelling for a penalty kick. 

None of us expected the coach to listen to him, but surprisingly he gave it to our team on the condition that I take the kick. All the players lined up around the box as I prepared to shoot, choosing to aim for the bottom right corner. 

Two things you should know: First this is in Italy and I’m an American teenager who speaks little Italian. Second, I’m the only girl on the team.

The coach blew the whistle. I confidently ran, kicking the ball with all my strength. It went soaring over the crossbar into the fence behind. I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. 

A lifelong love of sports

Sports have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. As soon as I learned to walk, my parents introduced me to swimming (after all, 71% of earth’s surface is water). They had me learn tennis to hone my hand-eye coordination, ballet to cultivate “grace” and finally soccer to channel my boundless energy. 

Ballet was the first to go. I was asked to leave for being too much of a distraction (it’s not my fault the class was boring and repetitive). Swimming followed when the early practices and relentless cycle of toxic comparison drained it of joy. Tennis, while never officially abandoned, became more of a casual hobby, a skill I maintained with occasional matches. 

But soccer? Soccer was different. It endured. Not just for me, but for my siblings as well. My older brother and younger siblings all share a similar love for the sport.

My football career began at six years old with my recreational team, Purple Thunder, where the post-game refreshments — orange slices and chocolate milk — mattered more than the outcome of the game. 

Next came Academy, where I was paired with a “special buddy” (one of the older kids) to help me focus and follow directions. By eight, I advanced to the competitive world of travel soccer — a commitment that has defined half of my life. Over the past eight years, I’ve played on various teams, with different coaches, in several leagues and have witnessed the growing intensity of competition as more pressure is placed on each player.

Soccer bridges divides across borders.

Soccer has taken me across the country and around the world. I’ve played soccer in Denmark, Sweden and Germany against local girls’ teams in those countries. Soccer is now a cornerstone of my identity.

When the external factors of my life changed as I grew and I matured, soccer remained the one constant. 

During the pandemic, I found solace in dribbling by myself in my basement and backyard. When I moved to boarding school, leaving behind my family and home, my high school soccer team became my anchor. 

Despite all the stress I endured through these changes, my love for the game only deepened as I experienced the unique camaraderie of a team composed of players from all over the world, united by our shared passion for soccer and desire to win. 

I cried when my favorite coach left for another job, cried again, then confronted a different coach who left me off the roster for games. I cried when a teammate lost her brother. 

Sports transcends the field.

Soccer is more than a game. It’s an art, an outlet. And a team is more than just a group of players: it’s a community, a support system that celebrates your successes and lifts you up when you fall. In those eight years, I believed I had encountered every type of soccer environment imaginable — until I arrived in Italy. 

So I could play here, the extracurricular coordinator at my study abroad school called on Gianni, a host parent who works for the local soccer club, Viterbese. 

Equal parts nervous and excited, I met Gianni and told him about my soccer experience — travel for eight years, high school varsity for two — and what I’m looking for — consistent, high level practices to keep me in shape. 

He suggests two teams I could play with, but both are boys’ teams, and I choose one. We decide I will go to the team’s practice on Monday and he even offers me a ride. 

The second he leaves, my spiraling begins as my brain conjures up all the worst possible scenarios. Monday arrives and I can’t decide whether to be filled with dread or excited to finally play. 

At the field, the boys are already huddled with the coach. Now I’ll stand out even more. I get my cleats on and join the circle, suffering through an awkward introduction with the coach, then we begin.

It’s been four months now since that moment, and I’ve gone to every practice I could. I was nervous at first, especially after Gianni stopped coming and I was left to navigate it on my own. But during the drills on the first day, I quickly realized I’d been overthinking it. They weren’t a team of young Messis and Ronaldos, just regular teenage boys. 

There are many ways to communicate.

While I’d played against teams that didn’t speak English before, practicing alongside them and becoming part of their team was an entirely new experience. 

Learning a new language is a year-long journey, and I take it one day at a time. So while I’ve built up a solid repertoire of Italian words and calcio (soccer) vocabulary, I’ve discovered other ways to communicate — through the game itself.

Words aren’t always necessary to understand my teammates’ personalities. I can learn plenty from how they play. Whether they prefer to dribble or pass, take the shot or let someone else score, arrive early to practice, talk over the coach, yell at teammates or tug on someone’s jersey, these small choices on the field speak volumes about a person’s true character. 

Playing soccer here has been living proof that actions truly speak louder than words and that sports have a unique ability to connect people. As a 16-year-old girl from Northern Virginia, I’ve formed a connection with 15-year-old Italian boys from a small city north of Rome. 

It’s also a reminder that no matter how experienced or “well-versed” you think you are in a passion, there are always more opportunities to grow — if you’re willing to take the leap. I’ve embarrassed myself countless times, as I did trying to make that penalty shot after Gugu was fouled. I’ve lost the ball, missed shots, stumbled over Italian. I once even forgot my cleats. 

But despite the awkward moments, I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything.

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Three questions to consider:

1. How did the author manage to communicate with her teammates without knowing the language they spoke?
2. What does the author mean by soccer being more than a sport?
3. What sport or hobby are you passionate about and are there people who share that passion?

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