Photo by: Tim Carey
Dear Soccer - Emma Heil
April 6, 2020 | Women's Soccer
Dear Soccer,
You are not perfect. And neither am I. But for you, I wanted to be perfect. For you, I wanted to be my best self. I wanted to jump higher and kick farther and run faster. I wanted to energize and electrify, astound and amaze.
There were countless times, whether in practice or in a game, that I felt like I wasn't enough for you, that I didn't do enough. As a goalkeeper, I often put the weight of the world, the weight of the game, on my shoulders. Even if I did nearly everything right, made the saves, completed the passes, distributed successfully, I worried that my singular mistake, among a plethora of successes, would mean I failed both myself and my team.
If I was the reason my team lost the game, I couldn't live with myself. Blinding myself to any moments of greatness, I would harp on my failure, replaying those moments over and over, unable to cast them from my thoughts. I carried that burden, and I wouldn't let anyone else share it. My parents, who supported me through it all, would tell me, "don't get down on yourself. The ball had to make it through the entire team before it got to you." But in my mind, and even though my parents were only trying to provide some perspective, that was just an excuse. And I didn't want to make any excuses, not to you.
In my endeavor for perfection, I constantly put myself down. I told myself I wasn't good enough, that I was a failure, that I didn't deserve to play. It was an unhealthy self-loathing that often brought me to tears. I'd get worked up at practice, tears welling in my eyes, and my coach would tell me, "Emma, flush it down the toilet. Focus on the next one." And then I'd blindly, frustratingly launch myself at the oncoming shot, boiling hotter if I missed the next one too. Those who bore witness might have perceived it as me crying that I got scored on, but those who knew me understood that I was fighting a battle on an internal front, that my tears were rooted in the idea that I wasn't enough.
But you, Soccer, showed me, through all of the trials and tribulations we've endured, that I am enough. It took me many years, I'd even say my entire career, to come to terms with the reality that no, I'm not perfect, no one is, but I am enough.
You empowered me to jump higher and kick farther and run faster. You gave me a place to energize and electrify those around me, to astound and amaze those who watched me. You gave me a family full of people who love and believe in me, who tell me I'm more than enough. You gave me a community that embraces all of me, my quirks and jokes and spirit. You demanded so much of me, but in doing so, you gave me a chance to rise to the occasion, to be my best self. I've come to realize that I am my best self around you: positive, passionate, playful, determined. You helped me understand who I am, what I stand for, what makes me tick, what gives me pause. You are the axis on which I spin, my toughest loss and greatest win.
If I am a planet, and you are my axis, how do I go on spinning without you? Well, the truth is, I'll never be without you because you are more than the simple act of playing the game. Even if I never touch a soccer ball again for the rest of my life (which I highly doubt will happen), I'll keep spinning. I'll keep spinning because I'll have everything the game of soccer brings with it: the laughter, the tears, the values, the perspectives, the achievements, the struggles, the pain, the glory, the memories, the friendships. You have brought me these stars; they surround me, propel me, inspire me. They keep me spinning.
Though this is a letter to you, Soccer, it's also a thank you to those that came with you. To my family, friends, coaches, teammates, advisors, and supporters, thank you. Thank you for believing in me, even when I didn't believe in myself. Thank you for giving me lifelong memories and lifelong friendships. Thank you, BU, for giving me a forever home.
Love,
Emma Heil // #13
You are not perfect. And neither am I. But for you, I wanted to be perfect. For you, I wanted to be my best self. I wanted to jump higher and kick farther and run faster. I wanted to energize and electrify, astound and amaze.
There were countless times, whether in practice or in a game, that I felt like I wasn't enough for you, that I didn't do enough. As a goalkeeper, I often put the weight of the world, the weight of the game, on my shoulders. Even if I did nearly everything right, made the saves, completed the passes, distributed successfully, I worried that my singular mistake, among a plethora of successes, would mean I failed both myself and my team.
If I was the reason my team lost the game, I couldn't live with myself. Blinding myself to any moments of greatness, I would harp on my failure, replaying those moments over and over, unable to cast them from my thoughts. I carried that burden, and I wouldn't let anyone else share it. My parents, who supported me through it all, would tell me, "don't get down on yourself. The ball had to make it through the entire team before it got to you." But in my mind, and even though my parents were only trying to provide some perspective, that was just an excuse. And I didn't want to make any excuses, not to you.
In my endeavor for perfection, I constantly put myself down. I told myself I wasn't good enough, that I was a failure, that I didn't deserve to play. It was an unhealthy self-loathing that often brought me to tears. I'd get worked up at practice, tears welling in my eyes, and my coach would tell me, "Emma, flush it down the toilet. Focus on the next one." And then I'd blindly, frustratingly launch myself at the oncoming shot, boiling hotter if I missed the next one too. Those who bore witness might have perceived it as me crying that I got scored on, but those who knew me understood that I was fighting a battle on an internal front, that my tears were rooted in the idea that I wasn't enough.
But you, Soccer, showed me, through all of the trials and tribulations we've endured, that I am enough. It took me many years, I'd even say my entire career, to come to terms with the reality that no, I'm not perfect, no one is, but I am enough.
You empowered me to jump higher and kick farther and run faster. You gave me a place to energize and electrify those around me, to astound and amaze those who watched me. You gave me a family full of people who love and believe in me, who tell me I'm more than enough. You gave me a community that embraces all of me, my quirks and jokes and spirit. You demanded so much of me, but in doing so, you gave me a chance to rise to the occasion, to be my best self. I've come to realize that I am my best self around you: positive, passionate, playful, determined. You helped me understand who I am, what I stand for, what makes me tick, what gives me pause. You are the axis on which I spin, my toughest loss and greatest win.
If I am a planet, and you are my axis, how do I go on spinning without you? Well, the truth is, I'll never be without you because you are more than the simple act of playing the game. Even if I never touch a soccer ball again for the rest of my life (which I highly doubt will happen), I'll keep spinning. I'll keep spinning because I'll have everything the game of soccer brings with it: the laughter, the tears, the values, the perspectives, the achievements, the struggles, the pain, the glory, the memories, the friendships. You have brought me these stars; they surround me, propel me, inspire me. They keep me spinning.
Though this is a letter to you, Soccer, it's also a thank you to those that came with you. To my family, friends, coaches, teammates, advisors, and supporters, thank you. Thank you for believing in me, even when I didn't believe in myself. Thank you for giving me lifelong memories and lifelong friendships. Thank you, BU, for giving me a forever home.
Love,
Emma Heil // #13
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