My relationship with football
Or shall I say soccer because I was raised in the US?
I'm writing this because I need to. The sport was such a long chapter in my life, and thanks to my newfound unemployment, I've been able to watch by far the greatest number of World Cup matches ever in my adulthood.
So, I'll start from the beginning.
I think I was around six years old when my parents enrolled me in ballet and gymnastics courses. I was never any good, and I still recall never being able to advance past some arbitrary level two in the latter.
When I was eight years old, my parents took me to the widely anticipated family comedy film Kicking and Screaming. I was already kicking a soccer ball in our backyard as soon as we got home.
Soon enough, I was enrolled in a recreational league. I took to the sport very well and very quickly. Little did I know that it would play such an instrumental role in my youth for an entire decade.
No one else in my family had ever played the sport, so I can't say anyone influenced me. I was good. I started playing travel soccer when I was around twelve years old. I still remember spraining my wrist in what felt like my first ever "real" game.
I was technically very gifted. I was only thirteen by the time I was able to juggle a football over 3,000 times. That is not a typo. Naturally, I turned into the skillful midfielder who surely could score goals, but more importantly could assist. I was the go-to for corner and free kicks.
Of course, it became about more than just playing the game. Yes, it was a social thing for me, my teammates, and even our parents at times. And it sounds really cliché, but it really did become something like a lifestyle to me. I needed something outside of school to occupy me.
I started following football religiously. Unsurprisingly, I was very curious about the world, and that was an attribute that I did not share with my adoptive parents. The name of the toy evades me, but I still recall playing a game with an interactive pen and a world map day in and day out when on family vacations because I was itching to learn all the capitals of the world by heart. I needed to know where each country—even those tiny ones that all looked the same in Europe or those remote islands in the Pacific Island—was located. Football was something like this for me. I needed to follow English Premier League, La Liga, and Bundesliga matches and know every player. Not only did I felt like I learned more about other places, but I also was immersing myself in something that no one in my family understood. And I liked it. It was a space for myself.
I grew a lot as a player, eventually rising enough in the ranks to play on not quite the national but at least the regional level. We traveled so much, even just for regular league games.
Soon enough I identified as an Arsenal supporter. On the world stage, I chose to support Germany (not shocking if you know me or any of my blog posts). One of the coolest memories of my youth was living out a Christmas present from my parents. My mother and I went to London so that we could tour Emirates Stadium and watch Arsenal play in an FA Cup semi-final. It was my first time in Europe, and while brief, I know my interest in Not America only further blossomed thanks to that experience. That trip would have never happened if not for football.
It wasn't always sunshine and rainbows though. While I remained a technically savvy player through and through, I was no longer a starter as I approached mid-teenagehood. The thing is that I stopped growing pretty early, and eventually I was competing and playing alongside girls who were taller and stronger than me. I wasn't fast enough to make as big of an impact anymore. I wasn't athletic enough.
I actually associate a lot of bad memories with the sport. I was consciously aware of the above realities, and even though my parents continued to nevertheless drive me long distances so that I could play for top teams, they were not very gracious with me. It started when I was around 14 and just worsened.
I ended up looking forward more to practices than matches because that way my parents (especially my mother) would not watch and scrutinize my performance so much. I dreaded stepping on the pitch because from that moment I knew a long conversation in the car ride home awaited me. Sometimes I was reprimanded for hours as we traveled back from a different state. So many tears were shed over this sport thanks to being shredded by the people who were supposed to support me. I always wanted to sit on the bench. That way that car ride home would be spent critiquing my teammates' performances and not mine.
I understand it could be difficult for a parent to invest so much time, energy, and money into a sport for their child and not see some sort of "return" on said investment. Although I had some opportunities to play D3-level soccer in college, I opted to quit after graduating high school.
This was a big change to say the least. I missed the sport, don't get me wrong. Yet, in many ways I was relieved. By moving away for college, I escaped not only my childhood home but also the ridicule of my parents. They made me fear the game I loved.
For better or for worse, I am a very all-or-nothing person. This definitely applied to watching football as well. I became too busy in college to follow it like I used to. Like I wanted to. I wanted to know everything, and if I didn't have time to catch up with all the transfers or every Arsenal match, then I couldn't keep engaging. And maybe it was natural: I myself stopped playing the sport, and I began a new chapter in my life. I had to make space for other things.
And so, I spent pretty much all my twenties removed from football entirely. In fact, I had had no idea that Arsenal won the Premier League this past season until a friend told me. Was/am I really an Arsenal supporter anymore if I didn't even know that?
Surprisingly, I decided to watch the World Cup this year. Like, really watch it. For the most part, I delighted in it. Do I like FIFA? Absolutely not. Am I disappointed that I couldn't attend the tournament during the one time the tournament is hosted in the country in which I live? Yes. I still recall long summer days in 2010 and 2014 spent watching the World Cup, and it pains me to think that that same girl would have never fathomed missing out on getting a ticket for a match this year. But that's a different conversation entirely.
It was kind of emotional (thankfully Germany embarrassed themselves early on so that I could sleep well at night for nearly the whole tournament, so it was not due to them). I could feel like a kid again. And I actually didn't mind that pretty much none of the teams were the same as the ones I watched growing up. I think it's actually better that way given a lot of the negativity in my life back when I was avidly following everything.
This weekend I found myself tearing up while watching France play against England in the third-place match. You could argue that this game doesn't matter and maybe shouldn't even be played. Somehow it was the best game of the tournament though. I don't even really like either team.
But the way each team would make a comeback in the second half and change the momentum of the game in a matter of minutes really got to me. It felt relatable in many regards. It wasn't merely that football had made a comeback in my life. It was also the enjoyment of it. Even more, it was inspiring. Life has been unkind toward me for a while now to say the least. I feel like I need a comeback, and this match was one of the most inspiring things I've watched in a long time (is that bad?).
Suddenly I want to go kick the ball around at the park again. I'm even thinking about watching the EPL this season like old times. I don't know if this is just a phase, but even if it is, I'm glad I followed the tournament this year. Despite all the bad times, football has shaped who I am, maybe even more than I think.