Lynx Cats, GRRRRR.

My college soccer team is going to the NCAA tournament. For the first time since 1990-ish. Getting into the NCAA tournament in women’s college soccer is a lot like March Madness in basketball. Teams make it based on winning their conference and then there are a number of at-large bids. Well, this year we won the conference. (I say we, but frankly other than the check I sent for $25, I didn’t have anything to do with it). We beat teams we haven’t beaten since the 40s (well probably not the 40s since women’s sports mostly didn’t even exist then, but it might as well have been the 40s). We finished the season 14-4-1, which is pretty amazing.

When I was a wee little GirlMonday soccer player, I played on a boys team. When you grow up in the south in the 80s, if you want to play soccer, you play with boys. I played competitively with girls in middle school and high school, but there still weren’t a lot of teams around. We won our share of tournaments and games, but when we would travel to places like Ohio and Texas we would, well, to put it lightly, get our asses handed to us. When I was in high school I was the star player. Which was nice, except for the fact that over two-thirds of the team was comprised of new girls we recruited every year. I remember losing a game by 12 goals my junior year. We never made the division playoffs (which just required that you be above .500), but it didn’t really bother me that much because I really liked the girls I played with. They were good sports about losing, tried really hard, and always made playing fun.

My senior year of high school I tore all of the ligaments in my left ankle during summer practice and missed all but the last two games. It was heartbreaking. I had been playing since I was 5. So I made the decision to attend a college with just as much soccer history as academic rigor (that would let me in). They were ranked 17th in the nation the year before I got there, and finished 18th the year before that. I wanted to win, so I went to a place that won.

For the first year I was there, we were okay, winning 13 games, but missing out on the tournament (by a mile). But the last three years we won a combined 18 games. We were terrible and we knew it. We had no team chemistry, fought with each other all the time, hated our coach, and couldn’t seem to put together a complete game. I loved college, I loved playing soccer in college, but I spent the majority of four years wishing I wasn’t hurt, wishing I was friends with my teammates, and most of all wishing we would win a game once in awhile.

So this is hard for me. I am so happy for these girls (whom I know nothing about other than I was once in their place), but at the same time it just makes me sad. Their coach sends weekly updates, getting everyone involved in sending the team care packages, inspiring letters from alumni, and homemade dinners on the road. I just wish I’d had the same experience that I hear they’re having – late night games of cards, lots of inside jokes, dinners at parents’ houses on the road, and win after win. All of it coming easily.

But I guess someday someone will tell them about the teams of 1997-2001 and they’ll wish they had our experiences instead: eating at Subway or Luby’s (any Luby’s fans out there??) every weekend day for four years, spending nine hour bus rides not speaking a word, and losing games they once led 4-0.

In the meantime, while I wait, I’ll have a six inch turkey on wheat.