by Alex Morgan
Each time you move on to a new step in life, you’ll be forced to say good-bye to people and places you love. As you set goals, you also have to come to grips with the fact that you may have to leave a lot behind you on your way to attaining them. Just remember that the people and places you love are always a part of you because they’ve helped make you who you are.
I knew I wouldn’t be playing many games with the Bears that season. With the World Cup qualifying tournament looming, I’d be training with the national team for long stretches. So I resolved to make the most of every single game. I really wanted to appreciate these final games as much as I possibly could.
And that sense of gratitude I was feeling was amplified even more when I got a few early-season honors. I was named to the Hermann Trophy short list again, and I was chosen as a Lowe’s Senior CLASS Award candidate, a prize awarded to students who’d excelled in community, classroom, character, and competition. I’d always liked multitasking, so this nomination was a real honor. During a few early-season games in which I played my heart out, I scored a hat trick in one game and scored five goals in one weekend. We were unbeaten by mid-September, with a record of five wins, no losses, and three ties. What a great start! I felt like I was giving it my all, which was exactly what I’d wanted to do. I wanted to go out giving this team everything I could.
Neil had also implemented a motto for the team this year: “Live Like Champions.” I loved it—I think feeling like a champion in your heart and soul will make you radiate progress and purpose. Being a champion isn’t just about winning, though. It’s about putting your best foot forward on the field and off. To “live like champions” Neil had laid out a twelve-point plan that would make us accomplish three objectives: have the highest GPAs of any team on campus, be the best players possible on the field, and give back to the community. We dove into the plan headfirst, doing training camps for younger athletes, volunteering in the community, and working harder than we ever had on the field and in the classroom. We had solid, tangible goals, and I think it made us all happier. I know I was happier.
With my heart full and a sense of real purpose from my time spent with the Bears, I was called up for training with the national team barely a month into my senior year. There were two friendly games with China coming up—one in Kennesaw, Georgia, and one in Philadelphia—and Pia had set up a training camp outside of Atlanta for thirty of us. This was going to be an interesting camp. Most of the players on the squad were on WPS teams, and many of them were in the midst of playoffs. So it would be a smaller group of us at first—basically, everyone who wasn’t in a playoff—and then, as teams were eliminated before the WPS championship on September 26, other players would come down.
These early games against China were important for both the players and the coaches. First and foremost, they were essentially warm-ups before the World Cup qualifying tournament, which was going to be held in Cancún, Mexico, from October 28 to November 9. The camp and these games gave us a chance to bond again and work on tactical elements. It had been months since I’d played with the team, and I knew I needed some quality time with my friends to feel at home on the field with them. For Pia and the assistant coaches, this was a chance to look at who would be on the roster for the final qualifying tournament team. So this camp and the games against China were like tryouts for me—I was by no means a shoo-in for the World Cup qualifying team, and I really needed to prove myself.
This time, I wasn’t the only collegiate player at the camp. Remember Sydney Leroux, whom I’d played with in the U-20 World Cup? She was there! This was her first call-up to the national team, and like me, it had happened when she was a junior. I was so excited to see her there—she and I had become so close during the World Cup—and I couldn’t wait to catch up on all that had happened in the almost two years since we’d played together.
I felt so much more at home with the team this time around. It was my third training camp with them, and they felt like old friends. I knew we had some tough matches ahead of us, but I felt confident. Living like a champion at Cal the past month had improved my outlook immensely. This was my big opportunity. The World Cup loomed in the not-too-distant future, and I was determined to get there.
Give Back
Neil’s “Live Like Champions” philosophy and plan was a wonderful way to help me reach my goals. But I think the most important thing it taught me was that when you set your goals and go after them, they can’t be all about you. You have to give back. I loved coaching younger players and volunteering in the community—the positive energy I felt from helping others stayed with me and followed me onto the field. So when you’re pursuing your dreams, don’t be selfish. Find ways to help others. I promise the good vibes you get from it will make your entire life better.
CHAPTER 22
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The United States and China have always had a big soccer rivalry, going back to 1986. We’d gone against them forty-two times since 1986, which was more than we’d played practically any team. We’d won most of those games, but they were still fierce competitors. We hadn’t lost to anyone on US soil in six years, though, so the pressure was on to really perform.
I hadn’t been chosen for the team roster for the first game, but I had for the second. I was disappointed about the first game, but it was okay. I was still very much the new kid on the team, and I realized that I could learn a lot just by watching them play. Plus, I’d have my chance a few days later in the second game.
The United States won the first exhibition game 2–1 against China. The score should have been higher. We outshot China 20–6 and dominated the field, but we struggled with finishing and, in general, weren’t attacking like we should. But the purpose of these games was to learn something, and that’s what we were going to do. Megan Rapinoe, a really crafty midfielder with long, powerful kicks, had led the game with five terrific shots, one of which went in. Games like this allow certain players to show their stuff, and that’s what Megan got to do. I hoped I’d have my chance soon.
I wasn’t going to be a starter in the second game, but I would be a sub. Pia had determined that I was a good mid-to-late-game threat, so she was going to put me in for the second half to change the dynamics of the game. I liked my reputation as someone who could come in late and really shake things up, but deep down I wanted the world to see that I could not only make it a whole game, but be consistently strong from start to finish. I’d done that at Cal and on the U-20 team, so I knew I could do it here.
But so much of soccer is about being strategic, and that’s what Pia was trying to do. She thought I could change the energy on the field. I was fast, and when people are starting to feel worn down in the second half, it’s often smart to get a fresh set of legs out there.
We were playing in Chester, Pennsylvania, outside of Philadelphia, at PPL Park, where the Philadelphia Union play. My parents were up there in the stands cheering me on. This was only my third international game with the senior team, but something about this felt bigger. Maybe it was the World Cup qualifying tournament looming, or maybe I had a sixth sense about something. All I knew was that I was living like a champion, and I felt great.
I watched from the sidelines as the United States started off strong, but crumbled in the thirty-seventh minute when a beautiful pass from one Chinese player to another resulted in a twelve-yard volley into the goal. There was nothing we could have done once her foot hit the ball—it was just a great shot, perfectly executed.
Halftime came and went, and I began to get itchy about going in. I was warmed up, and I was ready. Pia’s plan was for me and Yael Averbuch to come in as subs at the same time—sort of a double threat against the Chinese at a time when they were feeling vulnerable. She was going to change the formation at the same time to further confuse them. It seemed like a great plan.
In the seventy-first minute, I got my chance. Yael and I ran onto the field, and immediately the energy
changed. We started to really put the pressure on, attacking in a way we hadn’t in the first half. But what was so interesting to me was the way I started connecting with Abby Wambach.
I’ve talked a little bit about Abby, but I can’t say enough about what a positive force on the field she is. She is our top scorer, has an uncanny ability to get shots in off her head, and is pure power and technical skill. She is the player we pass to in the hopes of getting goals. Over the course of the last few practices, Abby and I had developed a really good dynamic. My speed and her powerful energy were a winning combination.
In the eighty-third minute, we put that teamwork into practice. Yael initially got the ball and tapped it over to Heather Mitts. Heather kicked it—hard—and sent it over the heads of the Chinese line, where it met Abby, who was sprinting down the field toward the goal. It landed in front of her, bounced high, and connected with her forehead. She knocked it right into my path. I dribbled it a few more yards down the field and then shot with my left foot.
Now, I have two things I tell myself when I make a shot. One, I always use my left foot when I can. It’s my strong foot, and I’m more precise with it. It’s also a little more unusual to be left-footed, so it throws people off. And two, never look the goalkeeper in the eyes. You don’t want her to know where you’re shooting.
I did both of those, and the ball cut through the air perfectly toward the goal, where it went right into the left side.
GOOOOAAALLLLLL!!!!
I’d scored my first international goal with the senior national team. I was twenty-one years old, the only college player on the team, and I’d tied up the game. There were so many things running through my head at that moment that I couldn’t tell you exactly what I was thinking, but I know I was the happiest I’ve been in my life. I ran toward my teammates, and the first person who hugged me was Kristine Lilly, my childhood idol and now my teammate. I can’t think of anything more fitting or more meaningful. It was an honor just to be on the field with her, but for her to congratulate me? It meant everything.
We didn’t score the rest of the game, but tying 1–1 saved us from losing on US soil—something we hadn’t done for six years. And Pia later said that we learned some important lessons during the game, and in the end, that’s what matters. Changing things around in the second half really saved us, and the goal assist with Abby began to cement a bond I still have with her. I was thrilled.
Master the Basics
Goal setting often requires you to master a few fundamentals—the things you always do because you know you can do them well, or because they are part of a foolproof plan. My mantras are (1) know your strengths—for me, it’s allowing my left foot to be my dominant foot—and (2) never look goalkeepers in the eye. Yours might include always running three steps between the hurdles on the one-hundred-yard hurdle sprint; filling in the bubbles on a standardized test only after you’ve completed all the questions; or making sure your posture is correct when you’re playing the guitar. I’m not saying you’re going to fail if you don’t follow your fundamentals—sometimes you have to shake things up or accommodate a change. But it’s good to master some basics. If you have them down, you can always fall back on them.
CHAPTER 23
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I wasn’t guaranteed a place on the World Cup qualifying team. Pia had to narrow down the thirty players who’d been at camp to twenty who’d be playing at the tournament in Mexico, which was going to be held at the end of October and beginning of November. I was feeling slightly more confident after making a goal in the game against China, but by no means did I think I was home free.
Plus, I knew choosing the final roster was going to be tough for Pia and the other coaches. There wasn’t a single player who’d been at the camp who wasn’t qualified, but decisions had to be made. I just hoped I was good enough.
Breathe, I told myself. Just breathe and be patient.
I’m sure you’ve waited for news to come, whether it’s the cast list for the school play or an acceptance letter to college. It’s so nerve-racking, but you just have to be patient. Try as hard as possible not to lose sleep or go crazy with worry—the news will come when it’s going to come, and it’s often out of your control. Like I told myself at the time, just remember to breathe!
The whole team heard the news of who’d made the cut while we were gathered together at the end of camp. Pia stood in front of us with a big paper-covered easel behind her.
“You’ve all worked so hard this camp. I’m so proud of you—all of you. Even the players going home. I can only choose twenty people, but please know that you’ve all played beautifully.”
She turned back to the easel and flipped over a piece of paper. I scanned the list of names, and there was my name. I’d done it.
I was so excited, but I contained myself. Some of my teammates were going home, so celebrating just wasn’t appropriate.
But inside, words can’t describe how happy I felt. From the first time I watched the World Cup in 1999, I had dreamed about this day. Every single practice had been played with one major goal in mind, and that was a chance to play in the World Cup.
When I got back to my room I called my parents and started gushing.
“Mom, Dad, I’m on the World Cup qualifying team. We’re going to Mexico to play at the end of the month.” My voice was shaking.
My mom was crying. “Alex, I am so proud of you. This is what you’ve been working for, and you did it. You did it!”
I knew they’d always been proud of me, but this was at a whole different level. I thanked them for everything they’d ever done for me—all those hours of practice, all that money they’d poured into teams and coaches and driving me around. It had all paid off. While I wasn’t guaranteed to play in the World Cup—we had to qualify, and I had to be chosen for the final team—I was still going to Mexico to play for our team’s spot.
Pia had pulled together a great squad. Ten of the players had gone to the Olympics in 2008, and seven had been to the World Cup. Kristine Lilly had been to four World Cups, and Abby Wambach had been to two. But for more than half of us, this would be a completely new experience, and as Pia said, the team was a mixture of veterans, who brought experience, and new players, who would add inspiration. I hoped I lived up to the task.
• • •
Before I left for Mexico, I played my last official Bears home game. It wasn’t the last game for the other seniors, but since I had to travel to Mexico, it was the final one for me. I was pretty sure I could hold it together—after all, I’d known for a long time that this was coming—but right when I stepped onto the field, I got pretty emotional, which was unusual for me. We won against Washington State that day, and all the seniors were honored with flowers and a really sweet send-off. Then we had a barbeque after the game with our families and the rest of the team. I’d be back for the NCAA tournament, but boy, I was going to miss the team in the meantime. They had meant so much to me.
But wonderful things lay ahead in my future, and I had to remember that.
It’s Not Over Till It’s Over
Just after I left for Cancún to train with the national team, I did an interview for the Cal newspaper. The interviewer asked me what was the most important thing I learned at Cal, and it didn’t take me long to think of an answer. I said that you should always work hard, never give up, and fight until the end because it’s never really over until the whistle blows. And that holds true no matter what your goal—if it’s getting into a college, making a varsity team, or getting cast in the school play. There is no reason you should give up before you know the outcome. Your fight isn’t over until time is called.
CHAPTER 24
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The CONCACAF World Cup qualifying tournament worked a little differently than most tournaments, so bear with me while I explain it. CONCACAF stands for “The Confederation of North, Central American, and Caribbean Associa
tion Football,” and it is the governing body for soccer in all of those areas. Other continents have their own confederations. Not every country in the world can go to the World Cup (you’d have hundreds of teams there if that were the case!), so you have to hold tournaments to narrow it all down. In the case of CONCACAF, there were eight teams fighting for two guaranteed spots.
There were two groups of teams—group A and group B. We’d play three games within each group, and the top two finishers from each group would go to the semifinals. So there would be four teams in the semis. If you won in the semifinals, you went to the finals and were automatically in the World Cup. If you lost in the semis, you played the other group’s loser in the semis. If you won that, you were given third place, but you’d have to play a European team to decide if you’d go to the Cup. Confused? I’ll simplify it. The only way to guarantee entry into the World Cup was to win first or second place at the CONCACAF tournament. Third place was still iffy, and you’d have to play a European team to make it in.
We were ranked #1 in the world, and CONCACAF had never given us much competition—in fact, it had always been a blowout—so we were feeling confident going in. On the other hand, we’d come in third place in the 2007 World Cup, which had been a disappointment, so we felt we had something to prove. We weren’t going to take the World Cup lightly. If anything, we were determined to dominate. But I’m getting ahead of myself—first we had to get into the World Cup tournament, which meant winning CONCACAF.
Our first game was against Haiti, and it was heartbreaking on many levels. You probably remember the 2010 earthquake in Haiti, which killed hundreds of thousands of people and threw the country into complete chaos, poverty, and despair. The headquarters of the Haitian Football Federation had collapsed during the earthquake, killing thirty-two members, including the women’s team coach. Now, the game was only ten months later, so we were shocked that Haiti was even there. Their team was funded by donations, and I have no idea where they’d found the space to practice as they’d fought to pull their lives back together. And they’d lost their coach. I can’t even begin to imagine their pain.