Made By Sheer Determination

Did I ever tell you my daughter Sneezy plays soccer? I know we’ve discussed basketball and softball, but all truth be told, soccer is her game. It’s the sport that makes her smile even as she tapes her blisters, dresses turf burn, and ices deep purple bruises.

This year she’s heading into high school as a sophomore (our HS here starts with sophomores, and freshmen attend the junior high—but don’t get me started on that) and decided she wanted to try out for the JV/ varsity soccer team.

At the beginning of June, Sneezy had a large tumor (non cancerous, yay!) removed from her neck. The surgery resulted in tendon and nerve damage in her neck and face that has left portions of those areas either in pain or completely numb. As a result, Sneezy has a tough time fully rotating her shoulder (a bad deal for a keeper/goalie), and occasionally when she runs, the insides of her neck throb like they’re going to "fall out".

Within a week of her surgery, summer conditioning started. Five days a week from 8-10:00 am, players proved their dedication by showing up and working their butts off in preparation for the soccer season. Sneezy missed almost a month, and worried about falling behind. Still, she determined she had to try.

So as soon as she could, Sneezy got up early every summer morning and went to conditioning, worked extra hard, then came home and spent the rest of the day with Ice packs taped to her shoulder and neck until she stopped needing the ice, and stopped needing the painkillers, and started to catch up.

Last week was try out week, which meant two hours in the mornings and two in the afternoons, of very seriously difficult work. At the end of each day, the coaches made cuts, and only those who made it through were invited back the next day.

Monday: Sneezy didn’t get cut. But one of her best friends (who is a phenomenal player) did.

Tuesday: Sneezy didn’t get cut. But another of her best friends did.

Wednesday: Most of Sneezy’s friends got cut. But Sneezy was invited back.

Thursday: Sneezy made the team and was given not just one, but two playing positions, ensuring her playing time as both JV and Varsity.

Friday: To celebrate, the team ran five miles around the city before starting their regular workout routine. But Sneezy got both her keeper jersey, and her forward one.

Sneezy still has pain and numbness. And she’s so sad her best friends got cut. But she has dedicated herself to working hard, moving up, doing her best to be the best soccer player she can be, despite any obstacles or challenges that come her way.

We’d all do well to learn a lesson from my fifteen-year-old Sneezy. I certainly have.

**All you Utahns, don't forget to stop by the big event and say hi!

Team Name: Who Stole the Socks?

I know I’ve mentioned numerous times that some of my kids are into sports. Mainly, my girls. Lately, it seems like my life revolves around soccer. Indoor soccer. Outdoor soccer. Competition soccer. Soccer practice. Soccer every day, and on and on and on.

But for all my complaining, I must admit, I’ve learned a lot from watching my girls play. Specifically with their indoor team.

It all started with my oldest daughter, Sneezy. She’s a sports-girl through and through. At some point, she and a bunch of her friends got together and decided to play indoor soccer together. Most of them had played together in city-league soccer or basketball or other sports before, but the idea wasn’t to go in and dominate. Rather, they went to play together and have fun. My younger daughter, Happy, even joined them.

Instead of ordering expensive uniforms—which many teams do—they tie-died T-shirts. Then they made up two important team rules.

1. No matching socks allowed, and neon is luckier than boring white.
2. Post-game cartwheels on the field are mandatory. Everyone must participate.

Then, they persuaded one of the dads to coach and went in to sign up as a team.

They lost the first few games. It took them a while to find their groove and learn to play together. But about half-way through their first season, something clicked. The girls became a team. And they started to win. Even against serious, uniformed teams. Coed teams with tall, competitive boys.

But they have never lost their spirit of fun to the competition. Even when they’re being slammed into a wall by someone twice their size, the parents are laughing because these girls are squealing, giggling, and cheering for each other. Those girls are there for the fun of the game, and it shows.

The two rules they set have never been broken. And after four indoor seasons, their losses can be counted on one hand.

I love to watch these girls play because it makes me look at my own life. Every time they play, I ask myself: will I let competition eat at me until I become crippled? Or will I play for love of the game and know that eventually I’ll find my groove?

Personally, I hate competition. But I love to play—er, um, I mean write. And I’ll happily wear mis-matched neon socks and a home-made tie-dye shirt while I do cartwheels in my back yard if that’s what it takes. Because I am good enough. We all are. And I’ll keep on writing /playing for as long as it takes until I figure out how to win the game.

Who’s with me?