National Women and Girls in Sports Day: The Year I Fell in Love With a Ball

I started playing soccer when I was six years old.

We had just moved into a new house. I was about to start at a new school. Everything felt unfamiliar, and this was the first time I had ever played a sport. My coach was Mr. Duwell.

If I’m being honest, I don’t remember a whole lot about that first season.

I remember pretzel rods and sodas after the games. I remember giggling in line during drills, picking grass, making jokes on the sideline instead of paying attention. I remember not taking it very seriously at all.

But I also remember meeting my forever best friend.

And somewhere in the middle of all that silliness, I fell in love with a ball.

I went on to play a lot of sports after that. And the truth is—I was pretty good at a lot of them. But I never loved another sport the way I loved soccer. Soccer stayed. Soccer stuck. Soccer became the thing I carried with me, even when I wasn’t actively playing.

Fast forward a few years.

I became a young mom. I had four boys. And I loved being a boy mom. I leaned into it hard. I told myself I preferred boys. I believed it. I wore it like a badge of honor.

But if I’m being really honest, there was a quiet part of me that missed girls soccer.

I coached girls for a while. I tried to reconnect to that part of my life. But something still felt a little off, like a puzzle piece that almost fit.

Then I found out my fifth child was going to be a girl.

And something inside me lit up.

A new fire burned. A familiar one. I knew—without really thinking about it—that I wanted to share my love for a ball with this little girl. Not force it. Not project it. But offer it. Open the door and see what she chose to do with it.

Here’s the part people don’t always say out loud: having a girl in sports is hard.

I want so much for her. I want opportunity. Confidence. Strength. Belonging. I want doors to open easily and fairly. I want her to be seen.

But I also want what she wants.

I see the fire in her now. I see the way she moves, the way she shows up, the way she’s starting to figure out who she is. And I’m trying to learn how to hold space for her dreams without turning them into mine.

I can’t wait to see what’s coming for her.

Soccer has never just been an identity for me. It gave me courage. It built my character. It gave me friendships—real ones, lifelong ones. It taught me how to show up, how to fail, how to try again, how to belong.

If soccer gives my daughter nothing else, I hope she walks away with those things.

And on National Women and Girls in Sports Day, that feels like enough to celebrate.