Known as the beautiful game, soccer is so much more than a 90-minute game, eleven players, and a fast-moving ball.

It is a physically and mentally demanding game, where every goal scored marks powerful, unifying perseverance presented by a team bound by a common result.

As I grew up, soccer grew with me.

My dad tying my shoes turned into me tying my own, small fields turned into big ones, short games turned into longer ones, but one thing stayed the same through the years—the support I received from my team.

Like a turbulent sea, soccer is chaotic and unpredictable with lots of challenges to face.

Teammates are the anchors, providing stability and support by grounding you in wild mayhem. Out of the 240 million individuals who play the sport, I have been endowed with some of the best teammates imaginable.

I underestimated the value of my teammates—until I faced one of the lowest points in my soccer career. While the sun blazed over the field, radiating off the turf, causing sweat beads to drip off each player’s forehead, the state final remains scoreless even after two overtime periods. The referee brought the whistle to his mouth as I felt like my legs were about to collapse underneath themselves.

As the sharp blast of the whistle cut through the air, each of the 22 players on the field began to prepare themselves for the brutal and isolating way to determine the winner. Players lined up at halfway and spectators fell into a tension-filled silence. Before I knew it, I was walking up to the white painted spot and setting the ball down in front of the goal, which framed the vibrant orange keeper.

If I didn’t score, the other team would win the game. I took a few steps back; feeling the weight of my teammates’ hard work and dedication resting on my shoulders, and my heart beating out of my chest. I propelled the ball at the goal. Suddenly, their keeper was diving and blocking the ball’s momentum from reaching the back of the net, the other team erupted in cheers and joy, and my stomach sank. I looked back toward my teammates, thinking about how we put blood, sweat, and tears to get to this point together – and I had let them down. 

Tears streamed down my face, and when I reached them, expecting anger and blame, I was instead flooded with support and encouragement. I don’t look back on this moment thinking about how I missed my penalty kick, because instead I remember how loved and supported my teammates made me feel when I was at my lowest.

After this moment, I realized the reason I lace up my cleats every day isn’t because of trophies, it’s because of my teammates. They left an indelible mark on who I am today, and they are the reason I continue to find love for the game no matter what—I’ve never found anything like it.