When Nobody Was Watching

by Carli Lloyd

  We open against Japan, and Abby is sitting. We have a number of opportunities early but don’t convert. I score on a left-footer from the right side early on, but it is called off by an offsides. It’s not until the fifty-ninth minute that we finally break through, when Syd runs at the Japanese keeper, gets a piece of the ensuing goal kick, and watches as it trickles into the Japanese goal. It is as bad a gaffe as you will ever see a keeper make, but Syd’s hustle made it happen. Aya Miyama ties it in the final seven minutes on a thirty-five-yard free kick that Hope doesn’t get a good read on.

  Two days later we take on Sweden, coached by our old friend Pia. It is so strange seeing her on the other sideline. Abby is starting because Syd came down with something, and the day doesn’t begin well. About fifteen minutes in, Amy Rodriguez gets hauled down in the box and Abby steps up to the spot, but the Swedish keeper makes a diving stop of her PK. Sweden takes the lead not even ten minutes later on a beautiful, lunging header by veteran Lotta Schelin.

  We dominate the flow of play and have numerous chances but can’t convert anything, including a couple of breakaways that Hedvig Lindahl stuffs us on. The 1–0 loss is our first in forty-three games. It means we have no shot at winning the tournament this year. It means the grumbling about Tom will start to get louder.

  Tom is a master strategist with a great feel for the game and very much a laissez-faire approach to things. He isn’t big on structure, or planning. I like him and like his effort to make us a more sophisticated and creative team, but right now our results on the field are not what we are accustomed to. Next up is Denmark. We fall behind 3–0 in the first half, the first time in the thirty-year history of the U.S. Women’s National Team that has ever happened. We wind up closing to 4–3 in the sixty-eighth minute, after I make a cross of a short run in traffic on the left, and Pinoe finishes it off a deflection. Press and Pinoe narrowly miss tying it up. We wind up losing 5–3, and finish with our worst Algarve result ever—seventh place.

  Tom is disgusted, and so are we. He says that our touches were sloppy and our giveaways contributed greatly to the result in this tournament.

  After an eighteen-day break when most of us return to our NWSL teams, we reconvene for a twelve-day camp in Denver. There is a weird vibe almost from the time camps begins. On the first day we work on crossing and marking in the box and play small-sided games, none of which we have been doing under Tom. Jill Ellis, the program’s technical director and Pia’s former assistant, is here to observe and record training sessions. I hear that Dan Flynn and Sunil Gulati are supposed to be coming into camp, another curious development if it’s true.

  All I know is that the World Cup qualifying starts in six months and we need to start getting better every single day, beginning now. We don’t want the same kind of excitement we put ourselves through in 2011, when we had to beat Italy to qualify. If we have any shot at winning the World Cup for the first time since 1999, the work and commitment needs to start here.

  Our next game is against China in Commerce City, Colorado, on the first Sunday in April. We play with a new alignment—4-3-3 as opposed to 4-4-2—and are much better. We’re passing well, making runs off the ball, generating all kinds of threats, finally breaking through when the former Lauren Cheney—now Lauren Holiday—slams in a ball from the top of the box late in the first half. Pinoe curls in a direct kick through heavy traffic in the second half, and we come away with a one-sided 2–0 triumph.

  We are in the bus going back to the hotel when a team staffer gets up. “Sunil and Dan want to meet with the team at seven thirty tonight,” the guy says.

  We gather in the hotel, and soon Sunil and Dan arrive, along with the coaching staff, but not Tom. So now we know why everything has felt so odd.

  Tom Sermanni is out of a job, fired not long after losing the only two games he ever lost as head coach of the national team.

  Sunil tells us this was not just a kneejerk reaction to what happened in Portugal. He has nothing but admiration for Tom as a person, and even as a coach. Sunil says it basically comes down to a “subjective evaluation of where the team is going.

  “It just wasn’t working. We think we need to go in a different direction, stylistically, or whatever you want to call it,” Sunil says. He says that Jill Ellis will take over on an interim basis.

  Several players start to cry after the announcement is made. I feel sick about it. I know we haven’t played at our usual level, but I have not seen this coming at all. When Sunil and Dan leave, Tom comes in and speaks to us.

  “This unfortunately is part of sport,” he says. “I’m thankful for the opportunity to coach you, and thank you all for your effort and hard work. It’s been an honor to coach you, and I wish you all the best going forward.”

  When Sunil, Dan, and Tom are gone, we talk about everything among ourselves. I listen for a while as Lauren, Abby, and Christie talk about it all. Then I have something to say.

  “One thing that I think will really help us as a team is to stop bitching when there are issues or we’re not happy with something. If an issue needs to be addressed, approach that person. We need to be more up front with each other. We need to stop all the chatter because it’s destructive and it’s contagious.”

  Later, I visit Tom in his room.

  “How are you holding up?” I ask.

  “I’m okay, Carli,” he says. “Thank you. You are playing at a very high level, and I hope you keep that up. You are a true professional, and all I can say is, I wish I had twenty players with your attitude.”

  “I appreciate that, Tom. You’ve done nothing but give me support. You’re handling this in a class way. You’re a very good coach, and I know you will land on your feet.”

  I have a horrible sleep that night. I keep thinking about Tom and all this sudden upheaval so close to World Cup qualifying. Whoever is coaching us, we need to get it together.

  We fly to San Diego for our next game, also against China. The night before we all hang out in Jill’s room and have s’mores, team-bonding over chocolate, graham crackers, and marshmallows. It’s light and fun.

  I am totally fired up for this game. I want to start this new era off right, to send a message. We come out flying. I have a great chance in front in the opening ten minutes, but knock it just wide. We keep pushing. Ten minutes later, I one-time a carom off of Holiday and rip it past the keeper to get us going. Three minutes later, I get some space twenty-five yards out and let fly with a lefty dipper that rockets inside the left post. It’s my fiftieth career goal, and I find out later that it puts me ninth on the all-time U.S. scoring list. Syd finishes the scoring with an angled left-footer on the ground. When I get Player of the Game, it makes a good day even better.

  So the Jill Ellis era is off to a 1–0 start, and continues in May in Winnipeg, Canada—the same city where we will open our World Cup in thirteen months. Jill, officially, is still the interim coach, but I am positive she will get the job. She’s well respected, has been around the program a long time, and knows the team as well as anyone. Jill has a series of positional meetings in our Winnipeg hotel and asks to meet with me before our friendly against Canada. We are in Jill’s hotel room.

  “It’s time you stepped up and took a leadership role on this team,” she says. “You have earned your stripes. You’ve won gold medals. You’ve scored in the biggest games. You have earned the respect of everyone with the way you work and your commitment to the team, and now it’s time for you to put the team on your shoulders and win the World Cup. No matter who is coaching this team, you need to do this.”

  I sit and take in what Jill is saying. I don’t say anything at first. It’s as big a vote of confidence as I have ever gotten from a coach. I liked Jill from the first time I met her when she coached the U-21 team. She is someone who sees the positives in a situation and then works at fixing the things that aren’t positive.

  I thank her for her faith and agree that it’s time for me to be more out front in how I lead.

 
; “I am ready to do whatever it takes—whatever it takes—to bring the World Cup back to the United States,” I tell her.

  Supported by a big and enthusiastic home crowd, the Canadians take a 1–0 lead. We are not at our best, but we are fighting hard. Abby gets robbed by Canadian keeper Erin McLeod, a little payback for the whole one-two-three counting gambit in the 2012 Olympics. I run a give-and-go with Abby that leads to a cross in front to Heather O’Reilly, but her shot caroms just wide. Syd scores a late goal with a timely finish off a defensive misplay, and we get away with a 1–1 tie.

  A week later, U.S. Soccer makes it official: Jill Ellis is the eighth coach of the U.S. Women’s National Team. I am thrilled for her and thrilled for our team because I know that Jill is the perfect fit for us. She’s smart, knowledgeable, and experienced, and though she is friendly and approachable, she is nobody’s pushover.

  I text her as soon as I hear: “Congrats on the job! Real happy you got it now let’s go start the road to winning the World Cup.”

  Jill replies:

  “Heck, yeah. So dang excited. I cannot wait to see you in Tampa.☺”

  Tampa comes around in a couple of weeks, Jill’s first camp as head coach. There’s an infusion of energy and enthusiasm, and though we don’t play our best game, we defeat a strong French team, 1–0. We then have a return engagement in East Hartford, Connecticut, five days later. Jill names me captain for the game and tells me again that she wants me to be a leader and to be more vocal. Tony Gustavsson, a Swede who Jill just named as her top assistant, meets with me before the game. He shows me clips from the first France game and says the team needs me to push higher up on the field and impact the game more by using my attacking skills.

  “You can win games for this team, and we need to get you into a position to do that,” Tony says.

  “I want to attack. I love to attack,” I tell him. “And I totally agree that I can help the team even more by pushing higher.”

  We play France to a 2–2 tie, and I feel much more active and impactful in the middle of the field. I have worked my butt off for years for every coach I’ve ever had, but I can’t deny that I feel a special connection with Jill. We have very different backgrounds—she grew up in England and didn’t start playing soccer until the family moved to Virginia when she was a teenager—but in so many ways we are the same person. I am, at my core, an introvert, and so is Jill. I just want to be with my people, and so does Jill. Neither of us wants to be fussed over, and we’re both completely transparent. All this does is make me want to play even harder for her. Jill Ellis is one of the most authentic people I’ve ever met. I love that about her. I think she is going to do great things with this team.

  Something has been bugging me for a while with the Western New York Flash. I try to deny it at first, but I can’t anymore, because it’s getting out of hand. I have a teammate—yes, someone on my own side—who goes out of her way to hit me in training sessions. At first I think that maybe it is accidental. It is not accidental. She is gunning for me, and has been since the preseason. She is my own teammate, and she is absolutely trying to wipe me out, tackling me in training or scrimmages with red-card intensity. I don’t know what her problem is. Maybe it’s because I am a national team player and she isn’t. I don’t really care, honestly.

  It is time for it to stop.

  We’re near the end of a training session, playing 6 v. 6. There’s a ball in the air. My “teammate” is ready to play it, not far from me. I see what is unfolding. It is the perfect time. I run toward her and go up for the ball. I get the ball—and plenty of her too. She goes flying and then crashes to the ground.

  Everybody is speechless, not believing what just happened.

  She isn’t hurt, just shaken. Which is exactly what I want. I don’t want to hurt anybody, ever. I just want her to know I am not going to stand for her trying to hunt me down anymore.

  She looks at me incredulously, as if to say, How could you do that to your teammate?

  We never exchange a word about what happened, before, during, or after. I am not sorry. This needed to be done. Not only does she never try to wipe me out again, but we get along better than ever after that.

  The whole year has been pointing toward World Cup qualifying, and it is finally here, with an opening game against Trinidad and Tobago in Kansas City. I am in the attacking third a lot, and we are creating all sorts of chances but don’t break through until the fifty-fifth minute, when I play a through ball to Alex Morgan, who cuts left and crosses to Abby, who heads it in. That lone goal holds up. We then move on to Chicago, where we take apart Guatemala, 5–0, before moving on to Washington, D.C., for a CONCACAF semifinal against Haiti. Jill and Tony talk beforehand about scoring early in this game to assert our dominance, and I oblige, chesting a punchout from the Haitian keeper to the ground, then half-volleying a shot into the corner to make it 1–0. Abby scores twice, and the onslaught is on, the final score running to 6–0 and setting us up with a date against Mexico in Chester, Pennsylvania. The winner will advance to the World Cup.

  It is my first game back in this stadium since the game against China before the 2012 Olympics when I lost my starting spot. It is also a prime chance to pay back Mexico for beating us in qualifying four years earlier. These things may not seem like a big deal, but when you play so many games, over so many years, these extra layers of motivation are important. I want to crush it in Chester. I want to crush Mexico. I want to expunge every bit of the unsavory memories I have of both, so it is straight from my script when Tobin Heath lofts a beautiful cross early on. I am in front, unmarked, and head it into the goal. I follow with a PK goal after Tobin is dragged down in the box. We win 3–0.

  We are going to the World Cup in Canada.

  I wish we could start playing today.

  15

  Character Builders

  JILL ELLIS HAS A PLAN, and nobody much likes it. She schedules a long, four-game trip to Brasilia, Brazil, one apiece against China and Argentina and two against Brazil, right before the end of the year. Jill has her reasons.

  “I just felt this team needed some adversity, to face some hard challenges,” Jill says. “And this trip had a lot of them. It was challenging logistically. The fields were bad. Everything was complicated. We were literally in our off-season, and now I am bringing them halfway across the world. I wanted them to be booed by eighteen thousand people. I wanted them to play a team that was going to challenge us. I told them, ‘You’re expanding your comfort level by being uncomfortable and that is going to pay dividends down the road because now when a curveball is thrown at you, you’re going to be able to hit it out of the park because you’ve shown the ability to adjust.’ ”

  We do not hit much of anything out of the park in Brasilia. Mostly, we hit broken-bat singles. We open against China, and we are not sharp at all. As a team, we are coming off of a six-week break; our fitness level isn’t very high, and we’re not possessing the ball well. I flick in a low, hard cross from Pinoe to make it 1–0 midway through the first half, but the rest of the game is marked mostly by missed chances and low-energy play. I am unhappy with both my game and our collective effort. China scores in the second half for a 1–1 finish. We know we need to do much better against Brazil a couple of days later.

  Things start auspiciously. I score on a spinning left-footer in front in the sixth minute, and when Pinoe follows with a drive from the right into the side of the net, we are up 2–0 not even twenty-five minutes in. We have many other opportunities to add to the lead, but we don’t capitalize, and at the other end we are giving Brazil way too much space. We are not applying high pressure, letting Brazil come samba-dancing out of its own end. Marta scores on a beautiful through ball, then scores again on a deft, angled left-footer. In the sixty-fifth minute, she breaks the 2–2 tie by beating Hope on the near side with a shot from distance. It’s a ball Hope saves forty-nine times out of fifty, but this one gets past her, and now we have to play catch-up. We do not catch
up. We aren’t playing quickly enough, our defensive shape is lacking, and the midfield and defense are too far apart. The crowd roars when the match ends and we trudge off, without a victory in two games.

  After an off day, we demolish Argentina, 7–0, behind four goals from Press and three from me, but the real test will come when we face Brazil in the final, four days before Christmas.

  After the coaches make it clear that we are not going to give the Brazilians the space they had in the first game, we respond by giving them no space at all. We have already heard Marta’s name far too much over the PA system. We pretty much park the proverbial bus and sit back in our end, and the Brazilians can’t break through. We open it up a bit in the second half. Becky Sauerbrunn knocks a beautiful header that the Brazilian keeper punches into the crossbar. I score on a left-foot shot in front off a cross that is nullified by an offsides call. The game finishes in a scoreless tie.

  Though we are better and more organized, we’re not even close to where we need to be. If Jill wants us to be uncomfortable, the trip to Brasilia can only be seen as a major success.

  At this point, all I want is to be home, to be with Brian, and to get back training with James. I need to reconnect and recharge. Two days after I am back in Jersey, I am in the Blue Barn, doing repeat sprints and working on shooting. On Christmas Eve, I run seventy-five minutes and do some upper-body work and already feel way better than I did in Brazil. It feels good to push myself hard. I can’t let up. There’s a World Cup in six months. The prep work starts now, even on Christmas Day.