Go For It!

On Tuesday a friend asked me, “Are you going to watch the Women’s World Cup Soccer tonight? It’s the semi-finals against Germany. Germany is ranked # 1 and we are ranked # 2.”

I had never occurred to me. As those of you who read this blog with any frequency know, when it comes to Men’s World Cup soccer and the Final Four, I’m there. But I confess that I rarely watch women’s basketball; I just don’t find it that exciting. I have never watched women’s soccer.

But OMG! The women’s World Cup USA soccer team? I was blown away Tuesday night by the flat out, determined, skillful, rough and tumble battle against Germany: that we won: 2-0. One penalty shoot out and one cross-over shot that a perfectly located teammate kicked into the goal, passing Germany’s excellent goalie, Nadine Angerer.

Just watching the goalies in this game was worth the hour. Our goalie, Hope Solo, is a two time Olympic gold medalist and considered to be one of the best goalies in women’s soccer. Pretty, dark- eyed and dark- haired, her long pony tail flies as she dives, leaps and masters the space she guards so skillfully for the American team.

Nadine Angerer, for Germany is broad-shouldered, formidable in size and shape and very competent. Awesome players, both of them.

I was struck by the sheer force of the women’s play. I’ve never seen women blast out like that as a team. I have watched Serena Williams play tennis with the ferocity of a warrior in battle, but a whole team of women, each one giving 100% of herself to a game with so much skill? I’ve never seen that before. My loss.

The NY Times headline read: World Cup: Against Top Foe, US Brings Its ‘A’ Game. Right!

And then, in the first paragraph, the article described Julie Johnston “trying to hold back tears” when, the score being 0-0, Johnston fouled Alexandra Popp, and the referee signaled for a penalty kick. “Seconds later,” the Times article went on to say, “her—Johnston’s-- emotions swerved again as German striker, Celia Sasic, shanked her shot wide of the post.”

Johnston’s emotions are the topic of the first three paragraphs of the Times coverage of an amazing game. Good grief!

Do they write that stuff about World Cup level men’s emotions when they cause penalty shots in crucial moments of a game? Do they write about football or soccer players’ tantrums on the field, the pushing and shoving, the swearing? I don’t think so! So what if Julie Johnston was close to tears? She’s a great player. What does that have to do with anything?

Unlike the men, who play on grass, these women play on artificial turf laid over cement. I pause to wonder why this is so? Nonetheless, the female players throw themselves into every mix, striving to get a foot on the ball, tumbling over each other’s backs and landing repeatedly on that unforgiving surface. This is no tea party.

Once again I am in awe: in awe of the commitment to the game of soccer, their commitment to each other and to playing for their country. The hours, days, months, years of practice, the aches and pains and bone breaks it has taken to arrive at the stunning victory Tuesday night. These women have set the bar very high and are keeping it there.

Our goals, yours and mine, may seem paltry by comparison, but we can commit to something, anything, and follow through with everything we’ve got. Not coming close to World Cup measure, perhaps, but to maximize whatever our gifts may be.

Do I always want to write this blog? As the days of each week pass, have I got a single idea in my head? Sometimes I don’t. I feel a bit panicky for a while and then, behold! Something shows up and I sit down and do it. I’m not winning games for the USA or anything commensurate and neither are you, I suspect, but each time that we decide to do something that matters to us and we stick to it, we have won. Not a game. Something incredibly valuable inside ourselves: a fortification of character.

I am posting this on Friday in hopes that some of you may read it and be moved to watch the finals Sunday evening. Women’s World Cup: U S A against Japan on Sunday, July 5 at 7:00 PM.

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While we are at it, applause and kudos to Misty Copeland who, on Tuesday, was named the first African American principal dancer in the 75 year history of the American Ballet Theater. Copeland did not begin her studying until she was 13—late for a ballet student. Then she was told she had “the wrong body” for dance. She knew she was born to dance and so she grit her teeth and danced!