I Joined a Soccer Team With Complete Strangers (and you should, too)
A month ago, my boyfriend asked me if I wanted to play on a co-ed soccer team. He didn’t give me any details, but I said yes, assuming this would be with him or some friends. I haven’t played soccer since I was 18, and I was nervous about getting back on the pitch, but I’ve wanted to join a team for a bit. I missed the team camaraderie, the great workout it provides, and the competitiveness it brings out of me.
I pushed myself just to say yes and do it. It turns out that a friend of a friend needed women on their company’s soccer team, so I knew literally no one on this team. And the company was an architecture firm. The only thing I knew about architects was that Ted Mosby in How I Met Your Mother was an architect. I didn’t think any of my teammates would find this funny or endearing.
On the day of my first game, I got a cryptic email saying we had to wear an orange shirt and meet at a field at 6:30 pm. I was freaking out all day at work. I was anxiously rambling to all of my coworkers about this and kept pacing around my desk. When it came time to leave, I felt like I was 12 years old again, about to leave for my first day of middle school. I kept imagining everyone laughing at me because I didn’t know anyone and they would judge me for the type of shin guards I had.
I nervously hugged my boyfriend and left my apartment. I blasted Maggie Rogers to pump me up for this social experiment. Thousands of scenarios were flowing through my head. The thought of being the worst player and everyone hating me were the main two worries. Then, reality set in when I arrived at the field. Everyone was wearing sweatshirts and jackets, so I was unable to see which team was mine. I had no idea who anyone was, so how would I know which team to approach? What would I even say? Should I just bail and go home? Maybe I could just stay in my car for an hour and a half, grab some ice cream, pretend like I played, and lie to my boyfriend about how it went.
Then, an angel appeared. A man with an orange shirt peeking through this sweatshirt arrived. I quickly grabbed my things and followed him. I awkwardly said, “is this the Mack Attack team?” they all nodded, and I introduced myself. Phew! The worst part was over.
We warmed up, and then the game started. I realized three things once the whistle blew:
1: No one was even close to being rude. If anything, my team was stoked to have another woman on the team.
2: Our team kind of sucks. But that’s okay.
3: This is a freaking adult recreational soccer team. Nothing matters.
We were quickly getting beat to every ball. One guy on the other team looked like freaking Ronaldo out there, and we were down 0–2 at the half. We ran to each other, drank some water, and regrouped. We were talking shit about the other team and how we’re way better than them (a total lie, but it was kind of fun). I already felt closer to this group of folks that I have nothing besides this soccer team in common with.
We ended up losing 0–3, which wasn’t fun. I hate losing, but I was quickly reminded that this doesn’t matter like, at all. We all shook hands and headed home. Although it seems silly, I felt proud of myself for going to that game. I can get pretty awkward and anxious, so joining a team full of strangers was huge for me.
We had our second game a few days ago. I wasn’t feeling great, but I was excited to see my new random friends. The conditions were much better for this game- a sunny evening on a turf field was much better than our rainy, muddy, and gloomy first game. I felt more at ease this time. I saw familiar faces and we were reflecting on our first game. I didn’t warm up as much because I was chatting with some of the women I bonded with. Then, tragedy struck.
About 20 minutes into the game, I reached for a ball and felt a massive rip in my quad. I think I strained or pulled my quad. I tried to play it off, but I could feel immense pain with every step. I didn’t say anything to anyone (these people still don’t know me at all!) and I started to panic.
I had no idea how to bring this up to my teammates casually. As I went for another ball, my body immediately rejected my sudden movement and I grimaced. My teammate asked what was up and I explained my pain. He advised me to just walk off the field and take it easy. My stubbornness forced me to say no and continue to play, but the pain kept increasing. We were also tied 2–2 at this point, so I wanted to make a positive difference on the pitch.
At halftime, my teammate told everyone I was hurting. The women wanted to be supportive, but we didn’t have any subs. I reluctantly got back on the pitch for the second half and just cherry-picked up top for as long as possible. Finally, I started getting lightheaded and everything was hurting. My teammate went up to me and kindly said, “none of this shit matters. Please take care of yourself.”
This simple revelation made me walk off and reflect on what the heck just happened. I was willing to injure myself for a freaking adult recreational soccer game.
Whether I was running cross-country in middle school, at the U18 Alaska State Soccer Tournament, or running in college, I always pushed myself to the absolute limit. All gas, no breaks. Adulthood is the first time in my life when other things can take priority over athletics, like my mental health and my social life.
I don’t have to run 40 miles a week. I don’t have to run a marathon, ever. I don’t have to restrict my lifestyle to fit a rigid, disciplined, competitive running lifestyle. I’ll never be as fit as I was in college, and that’s okay. My priorities in life have shifted, and that should be celebrated!
Although it seems silly, I’m so thankful I joined this team full of random architects. It made my mundane 9–5 workweek into an exciting and fun change of pace. It helped me realize nothing really matters, and that’s okay. Showing up and competing is the biggest win in life.
