What if the very thing that defined your life was never truly your choice? This is the haunting question Christen Press, USWNT star, grapples with in a series of heartfelt letters. But here's where it gets controversial: was her soccer journey a gift or a burden, a freely chosen path or a destiny thrust upon her?
Dear Little Christen, (The Beginning)
I see you now, with eyes that understand the weight of those early years. At three, a ball became your constant companion, not by your choosing, but by the unspoken expectations of those around you. At four, your talent, a spark meant for joy, became a flame fueled by the pride of others. Your parents' cheers, though heartfelt, were tied to the net-rippling moments, not the joy of the game itself. While teammates celebrated together, you were an observer, learning a crucial lesson: your worth was measured in goals, not in the sheer delight of play.
At five, you mastered the smile, the cleat-lacing, the relentless drive, not because you wanted to, but because you felt you had to. The awe in their eyes, the unspoken pressure, became your invisible chains. Yet, even then, you played beautifully, a testament to your spirit. And for that, I am fiercely proud.
Only now, as my career fades into the sunset, do I truly see you, the little girl in the backseat, silently yearning to be asked, not just told. And this is the part most people miss: the joy wasn’t in the scoring, it was in the shared decision to play, in the reclaimed 'yes' that was truly ours.
Now, a new question hangs heavy: Are we ready to say goodbye? Not to the game itself, but to the life we built around it – the early mornings, the shared rituals, the laughter and tears that became our armor. Are we ready to let go of the crest's weight, the pre-match texts, the roar of the crowd, the ache of defeat and the euphoria of victory? Are we ready to step away from the little girl in the stands who sees herself in us?
Dear Football, (The Middle)
You've been my teacher, my mirror, my fiercest critic and my greatest love. You gave me a family forged in sweat and shared dreams, a passport to the world, and lessons etched in muscle memory. But you also demanded sacrifices – sleep, physical ease, the peace of mind before a penalty. Isn't that the price of any true love affair?
I remember the euphoria of Regionals, the Christmas Eve sprints, the goals that felt like destiny and the misses that haunted me. I remember the frozen pitches, the roar of the crowd, the silent understanding passed with a hand squeeze. And I remember Tobin, my opposite yet perfect complement, teaching me that joy, pure and simple, was reason enough to play.
They say this isn't goodbye, but for me, it must be. Here's the controversial truth: you were never my destiny, my Dharma. You were my path, a vehicle that led me to something greater – the fight for progress, for equality, for a world where women, queer folks, people of color, can stand tall. You got me into the rooms where change happens, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
Dearest, Darlingest Fans, (The End)
You, who started as a source of discomfort, became my chorus, my community, my mirror reflecting back a career built on shared passion. You filled stadiums, crossed oceans, held signs both witty and absurd, and roared my name until your voices cracked. You carried me through fatigue, celebrated my triumphs, and reminded me, again and again, that I was never alone.
You saw beyond the jersey, beyond the highlights, into the heart of a person striving, falling, learning, and rising again. You taught me that being loved isn't about being the best, it's about showing up, authentically, vulnerably, relentlessly. And in return, I hope I gave you a glimpse of possibility, a spark of courage, and maybe, just maybe, a few unforgettable goals.
As I step away, I leave not as the greatest, but as one of the most loved. And that, my dear fans, is the greatest gift of all. Now, I ask you: What does it mean to truly belong to a game? Is it about talent, about winning, or about the connections we forge along the way? Let's continue the conversation in the comments – I'm eager to hear your thoughts.
