Whumptober 2024: 15 (uswnt)
No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA
Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"
After years of hard work, you finally made it to the big stage, the World Cup. The US had been dominating and you had scored a few goals that lead to the team being here- in the finals. Not only that, you had been chosen to play the full 90. This was unheard of for someone of your age, but you were so grateful for the opportunity.
The first half came and went in a frustrating blur that ended with no goals for either team. You jogged to the bench, grabbing your water bottle and sipping as you scanned the crowd. Your eyes were glued to one specific section, scanning where other players’ families and friends sat, and where old teammates were to cheer you all on. Your eyes frantically scanned the seats until they landed on the two empty seats.
You knew your parents weren’t going to show up, they rarely did. You didn’t even want them to show up, they always had critiques for you. Still, though, you wanted them there.
An arm wrapping around your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts, Mal siding up to you.
“I’m sorry,” she says simply.
You sigh, “I knew they weren’t going to show up. I’m just disappointed, I guess.”
She nods her head silently, allowing you your moment to wallow in pity.
Eventually, still keep her arm around you, she guides you to the locker room. There’s the usual game review, planning for the next half, and hype session, but you can’t pay attention to any of it. It’s silly really, you think, that the people who thought about you the least spent the most time occupying your head.
There’s still a few minutes left before the game resumes, and Mal drags you out with her to say hi to your old teammates. A smile grows on your face as you think of the girls waiting for you, and you and Mal climb the barricade to see them.
Alex, Kelley, Christian, and Tobin all manage to get seats together, and you and Mal hurry to them before throwing yourselves at them. You have just a minute before you need to be back down on the pitch so you allow the girls to praise the two of you before climbing the barrier and jumping back down to the pitch.
You turn around to wave one last time when something catches your eye. The two seats that had been so obviously empty were now occupied. The occupants looked unwilling with pinched faces, but they were there. Your parents had finally shown.
It’s like a match had been lit under you during the second half, determined to make your parents proud. Your passes were strong and accurate, and you raced down the pitch effortlessly. The whole time, your eyes would migrate to the stands, trying to make eye contact with either of them. You never did.
Still, though, you pushed through the fatigue that threatened you, pulling air into your lungs when you felt like you couldn’t. Pumping your legs just a little bit harder. And it all came to a head when the ball landed at your feet in the final moments.
You act on autopilot at this point, rearing your foot back to slam the ball into the back of the net. It’s silent before the crowd roars. You scored. Not only that, you scored the only goal in the final seconds of the World Cup.
You were tackled instantly, teammates piling on you. You laughed with them, a grin on your face. Pushing your way slightly out of the center of the group, you looked to the stands.
The seats were empty.
The rest of the game finishes quickly, and you don’t pay attention as you do a quick lap of the pitch. You’re led through the medal ceremony, and, once again, Mal has to wrap an arm around you and lead you away.
She takes you to where the four women had gathered on the pitch, pushing you into the nearest arms. Despite how dirty and sweaty you are, you feel multiple arms wrapping around you.
All of the girls are talking about the highlights of the game, the love of the sport in all of them shining through. Their voices grow and overlap until you chime in in a quiet voice.
“I did good, right?”
The conversation stops. No one knows what to say. They had heard about your complicated relationship with your parents and they had seen them today, but they assumed that the thrill of all of the events had outweighed everything.
Clearly, it hadn’t.
Christen takes your shoulders, pulling you so you were standing in front of her. She squats slightly to be at your height and locks eyes with you before speaking.
“You did so, so good, sweetheart. We’re all very proud of you.”
That’s exactly what you needed to hear, throwing yourself into her embrace for just a second before pulling away.
“We just won the World Cup,” you almost whisper in awe.
