People throw around the term “rookie mistake” a lot. Well, some could say I coined that term throughout the course of my rookie season in the National Women's Soccer League (NWSL). It’s not as if I was constantly making huge mistakes. It was more of a collection of small, embarrassing, “rookie-type-things”. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not stupid. I did well in school. I just have a special compartment in my brain for things like this. Here’s what I mean.
I was in Orlando during the 2016 draft, taking mandatory audit training for my internship at KPMG. The last day of training was a Friday, and also happened to be draft day. Orlando Pride tryouts were that weekend as well. When I realized these dates coincided, I thought it was meant to be. I’d stay a couple of extra days in Orlando, and this would be my shot to play in the league. Friday rolled around and I was anxious to leave training and get to my friend’s house in nearby Cocoa Beach. I got off work early afternoon, and she picked me up in Orlando. As we cruised down the freeway, we chatted about the latest LSU gossip and how we were going to miss it. She jokingly told me she would bring orange slices to my tryout the next day. I liked the sound of that. Most of the draft was over by this point in the day, but I scrolled through twitter to look it over. I knew I wasn’t a highly rated prospect and would likely go undrafted. As we pulled into a nearby coffee shop, my mind was elsewhere. But lo and behold, as we were waiting for our food, I got a call from an unknown Kansas number. I thought it was someone trying to sell me insurance. I let it go to voicemail (rookie mistake #1). Literally. I let it go to voicemail. Then I got a call from the same number.
“Hello.”
“Hi is this Alex?”
“Yes…who is this?”
“Alex this is Huw Williams with FCKC. Are you watching the draft?”
“Uhhhmmmmm…no. Well, you see I just got off of work. Um. Who did you say this is?”
“Well…we just drafted you.”
“Oh. What. Oh, um. Thanks. Wow.”
I sounded stupid and uninterested, among other things. In reality I was shocked, and so incredibly excited for the opportunity.
I spent the next few months training. Hard. I left my internship at KPMG early so I could focus on getting fit. I knew I had a lot to prove. I went back to LSU to run, lift, etc. When I arrived in KC I was probably the fittest I had ever been in my whole life.
On day 1 of preseason, I rolled into Overland Park Soccer Complex as little more than a fan girl wearing a purple LSU soccer shirt, purple socks, a purple LSU backpack, AND a purple LSU sweat suit over all of it (rookie mistake #2). You can’t make this stuff up. It looked even worse than you’re probably imagining, somehow. I came into camp with a realistic perspective. A lot of draft picks would be cut from their respective rosters, and I was pick 38 out of 40. I was very aware of what my odds were looking like, but my goal was clear from day 1. I just needed to make the squad. Would I travel if I made it? Doubtful. Would I play? Slow down, kid. Would I start? *Laughter is filling my head*.
Camp was stressful; there was no doubt about it. Some practices went well, some didn’t. My roommate, Bri Reed, and I put a lot of pressure on ourselves to succeed. Naturally, we made up some coping mechanisms, one of which was our “erase-a-practice” idea. Essentially, we gave ourselves 1 per week. The rules were simple. If a contestant had a bad practice, they got to erase it. This mandated that the contestant was no longer allowed to think about/discuss their poor practice performance for that day. The allowance for the number of “erase-a-practices” that could be used in a week was up to our discretion. This is something I completely intend on continuing through my career.
Fortunately for my nerves, I was offered a contract at the end of March. It was a huge sigh of relief. Until I pulled my hamstring three days later… “This is going to be short lived,” I thought. I rehabbed for the greater part of the next six weeks, and FCKC kept me around. I saw my first pro action in the last 6 minutes of our away game against Seattle in late April. It was exciting to check into my first pro match, but the real story comes in my second appearance.
The second game action of my career was against Houston at Kansas City. I was subbed on for the last 9 minutes. As I warmed up, I could feel myself getting nervous. When I approached the halfway line to check into the game, I was instructed to change the formation as I went on. In my fit of nerves, I misunderstood the word “middle” for “midfield”. I know what you’re thinking. That’s not a big deal. Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. I charged onto the field and essentially changed my team’s formation into a 1-6-3. (I’m sorry Becky). I was greeted with looks of confusion from my teammates, but I stuck to my guns. “That’s what he told me”. We played out the last few minutes in my secret formation, and to my luck, one of the defenders I wrongfully converted to a midfielder earned a penalty kick. Alas, a goal. No one, including the coaches, said anything to me about this incident. I thought I had escaped from the scene of the crime unscathed. It wasn’t until a film session over a month later that I was revealed to the world. I guess they did know. Luckily, our players and staff at KC all had a great sense of humor, so I was able to laugh this one off pretty easily.
My first start came in May. Yes, I was nervous. No, I didn’t incorrectly change any formations this time. Now, I’m not saying that some people probably expected more out of a sack of potatoes playing left back than me. But let’s be honest, that’s probably how it went down. Here I was, a rookie, sitting pretty at pick 38 in the starting lineup for FCKC. That’s the ironic beauty. No expectations. Nothing. I was free to play with as much confidence as I wanted, because I had nothing to lose. Of course, that’s easy to say. There were some bad mistakes, but there were also some good things. It was an absolute blast.
I found myself in the lineup for the next several games, playing 90 minutes. I was having so much fun. Then, in late June I developed a stress fracture in my fibula. Another setback presented itself, this time keeping me out for almost 9 weeks. Barring a slight mental fog the first week, I tried to do everything I could in the weight room. I made up a plan in my head to keep me motivated. I was going to get extremely strong in the weight room, make my return for the last part of the season, and be fresher and stronger than everyone. Nine weeks isn’t that long, right? People are out all the time with injuries for much longer. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to replicate a 90-minute game at this level, especially when running is out of the picture for as long as it was. My first game action since June was in the last 2 minutes of the Chicago game in early September. I didn’t touch the ball, but that’s between you and me.
I saw my first start since before my injury in mid-September, and let’s just say it was rocky. I remember looking at the clock 6 and a half minutes in and thinking, “There’s no way I will survive this half”. I did survive it, as well as about 20 minutes of the second half. However, it wasn’t pretty by any means. In fact, it was some of the worst soccer I can personally recall playing since high school. I was diving into tackles, missing simple passes, etc. I could’ve been the star of a video montage labeled “Cringe Worthy Soccer Moments: Don’t Let This Be You”. I was furious with myself. I swore this wasn’t going to happen. Yet, there I was at the end of 70 odd minutes with that sinking feeling of underachievement.
We wrapped up the season on a high note with a win in Orlando. We didn’t qualify for playoffs, but it felt so good to end the season with a solid win. On a personal level, I was happy to top off the year with a performance I can confidently say was better than my 70 minute horror show from the week prior. It was then, I realized, that I would genuinely miss these people. The team and staff at Kansas City were nothing short of good-hearted people. I can’t think of a single face in the club that wasn’t there to offer a helping hand to someone in need. That’s so important in a team environment.
As I reflect on my first year as a pro, I’m thankful for everything that happened. I reached my goal of making the team. I played quite a bit, which was awesome. I’m even thankful for the injuries. I lost a large chunk of my first year to them, but maybe that’s just what I needed to keep the hunger. I’m most thankful for the little bit of luck that fell upon me. I landed in KC at a time that coincided with a lot of retirements. That, coupled with a few other circumstances gave me the opportunity to play. Regardless of how or why I got to see the field when I was healthy is irrelevant to me. It gave me a wonderful chance to kick start my playing career, and I’m so thankful for it. I've always been a fighter, and I don't plan on changing my ways any time soon. The challenges make everything worthwhile, and I’m so excited to see what the 2017 season holds. :)