The Best Goodbye

Jimmy Valvano once said that there are three things you need to do everyday: laugh, think, and cry. If you laugh, think, and cry, according to Jimmy, that’s a hell of a day. You do that seven days a week, you have something special.

In one week, I told my coach I was medically retiring, I found out I tore my ACL again, my team won our first conference game of the season in OT, I attended a glorified prom at a military academy and had one of the best times until my boyfriend started yakking (another story for a different time). To say that the week was emotional doesn’t even begin to describe it. According to Jimmy, it was a special week. When I tore my ACL for the second time (because yes, we are on #3), I was at least able to articulate my thoughts and feelings about the whole situation. But now, I’m almost at a loss because feelings of sadness, relief, anger, elation, frustration, and fear have welded themselves into… a stomach ache. I had the weirdest stomach ache of my life last weekend because I don’t think my body can handle all these emotions at once.

Although it might not be a surprise to most, I’m surprised that I am having a more difficult time with letting go of this damn sport than I thought, not for the reasons that you might think. I’ll be honest, I don’t really miss playing that much. I’ve been so removed from it in the last 3 years that I’ve had enough time to process that. When preseason started and I was getting into actual goalkeeping, all the footwork drills seemed absolutely fucking pointless to me (no offense to my GK coach). Growing up, I lived for that shit; I was so proud of how proficient I was at it. I didn’t enjoy playing the games I used to be so competitive at. The girls and the team play a role in making this more difficult but like any athlete whose college career comes to an end, the relationships that are strong enough will continue to last, so I’m not worried about that. I think that I am more troubled than I thought I would be because I wanted to walk away with this sport knowing that I did everything I can and in one piece. It’s that last part that always seems to catch up to me.

I might’ve said it in a previous blog, but I had a history teacher in eighth grade tell me that there are days in history where the events are so impactful on your life (referring to 9/11 when he told us this) that you’ll remember everything that happens to you on those days, down to what you ate and what time you woke up. For some reason, those days just keep seeming to add up in my brain. Bizarre. Anyways, I remember feeling anxious the entire day up to when I saw my doctor that evening. I remember the exact moment I realized there was no small black line running vertically in between my knee joint line that is supposed to be a piece of tissue 7-8 mm in thickness. I remember balling and sniffling and not being able to wipe the snot out of my nostrils because of the damn mask over my face. And I remember the burrito bowl I picked up from the dining hall on the way home that I expected to suck but actually shmacked. Like the day I tore my ACL the second time: I was awake at the crack of dawn, I screamed, cried (wailed), and hugged my dad’s torso all at once, and had kimchi stew for dinner that night with my family as we commiserated together in silence. There are just some things you will never forget.

One of the things that I told my mom in between sniffles and streaming tears the night I found out I tore my ACL for the third time (Jesus) was, “I just thought I would be done with this by now.” I hate to mention my dad in yet another blog (like truly hate it), but as I started to progress in my training and started to think that I was improving and perfecting my goalkeeping, he told me to never think as though I’ve arrived. There is always more work to be done. Sounds like that came from an old Chinese man, huh? They’re always trying to keep you humble. Regardless, I remind myself of that when I start playing the “woe is me” game (I’m really fucking good at it) because I understand my situation is unfair. At least I’m given the chance to do something about it, even if it feels like the same thing I’ve been dealing with for the last 27 months, but who’s counting?

I only recently told my team about my medical retirement and my most recent injury (hence the lateness of this post), and that was tough. Again, I don’t know why I continue to surprise myself when my emotions get the best of me, but here we are. Public speaking to a bunch of intelligent engineers who are criticizing how you breathe is nothing. Speaking out to 30 people who have been rooting for you for either the past 3 years or 3 months took more of a toll on me than I expected. I had nothing scripted because I wanted to speak from my heart, no matter how small and puny it might be inside of my chest. I won’t lie, I kind of blacked out when I was speaking, but I do remember saying that what made my decision to end my playing career (made before I even knew I was injured) the most difficult was the fact that a village and a half has supported me my whole college “career” (if we can still consider it one), but I was still not able to do the one thing they were supporting me to do. I didn’t have the fairytale ending everyone thought I deserved. And I feel guilty. Perhaps it’s the Chinese in me, but it hurts knowing that I failed at something that others had hope in me achieving. However, I consider myself lucky to feel this way because at least I have a support system that never stopped believing in me this whole time.

I’ve cried over a piece of shit that’s only 7-8 mm wide too many times, and I forsee myself continuing to cry over this piece of shit many more times to come. Fortunately for me, I have found a troop to rely on for all the times I will be crying about this piece of shit and all the other shit I might be crying about. They were there all along, it just took my a few years to realize it.

To Gillian, you have been everything and more I needed in a friend. To Julia, stop crying as you read this. To George, thank you for helping me find something else to love besides this sport. To Braden, thanks for hyping me up more than I deserve. To my parents, I’m sorry for all the co-pays. Momma, you keep me sane and I would not be anywhere near where I am if it weren’t for you. Felipe, you’re my best friend and I’ll always take a bullet for you. Soccer, thank you for giving me the opportunities and experiences that I will cherish for a lifetime. This is not how I wanted to say goodbye, but I’m glad I have all these people with me while I do it.