This week, thousands of girls across the country step onto their college soccer fields for the first official practice of the season.
This is for them.
But it’s also for the ones back home who want to be them one day. The ones training in the shadows—juggling high school tryouts, recruiting emails and early-morning sessions no one sees. And it's also for the little girls in oversized jerseys, racing to the ball with untied laces and giggles. They have no idea yet how much it will ask of them—or how much it will give.
And this is for the parents of these brave girls, too.
The ones who hold their breath every time their daughter goes in for a tackle or fearlessly throws herself into a 50/50 ball. Who have watched their girls come back from sprains, tears, concussions—and still play without hesitation… and sometimes with it. Who have been there through every stride and setback—who know the story, the pain and the work behind each scar. Who cheer loud, knowing what the game demands—and love her enough to let her keep choosing it. Because this game asks a lot.
And only those who’ve loved someone through it truly understand.
Because after watching my daughter play and compete for the past 14 years, I can tell you:
Soccer girls are built differently because the sport they play is different.
It’s nonstop motion. Full-speed collisions. Sharp cuts on unforgiving ground.
No pads. No helmets. No protection.
No timeouts. Just 90 minutes of grind—again and again and again.
And that’s just the game.
The training can be even more grueling and never-ending.
My daughter runs on vacations. Long runs, short runs, tempo runs. She texts her strength coach from her Grandma’s house to ask how to tweak her workouts. She squeezes in bodyweight circuits on hotel floors, races the sunset on empty roads and does band work in the living room. She trains for power, for speed, for endurance—for whatever the game will ask of her next. She stretches while everyone else is still asleep. She foam rolls while watching her favorite shows. There is no true offseason—just slower weeks to get ready for the hard ones. She doesn’t complain. She trains because the game asks her to. And because it's part of who she is now. The routine, the discipline, the grind.
