Freshman year, I was playing basketball; looking back, that’s where I saw my future at least within high school. 

Playing in the arena my senior year, wearing a letterman jacket with patches down the side each one marking a milestone, I earned over four years of dedication. Freshman me would have been shocked to know that I fell out of love with my sport.

But it was not a loss, it was a gift in disguise. 

I found a family within a sport I knew nothing about, playing a position I didn’t know I was capable of excelling. Being a goalkeeper is not a path I expected but I could not be more grateful that I’m here. 

To everyone around me, I sounded “insane,” “out of my mind” and even “crazed.” After all, who starts a brand-new sport in their second year of high school expecting to get anywhere? 

I’d be lying if I said it did not get to me. In the beginning I believed them, maybe I really was chasing something impossible.

After making it on the school team, past school tryouts, I started practicing.

I practiced day in and day out, improving little by little, but not enough to silence the doubt in my head. I wasn’t confident—in my skills, in myself or even in the decision I had made to switch sports.

After a conversation with my coach, I learned it wasn’t my athletic ability stunting my growth but it was my own mentality. 

Our brains are powerful. They can be polluted so easily, not just by words, but by body language, attitudes and energy – our own and others. If I was going to succeed, it wouldn’t just be about saving goals, but about learning to silence the noise and believe in myself, not relying other’s validation.

What I did not see coming was that it was just the start. Changing my mentality was the beginning of a rollercoaster. It took a lot of mental training to drown out the voices around me and just as much physical training to start trusting my body.

At first, the progress was small: quicker footwork, cleaner catches and better positioning. Each little win chipped away at the doubt. I started setting goals, not for validation, but for me to prove that I could become the athlete I believed I could be. 

There are still bad days. Games where I let in goals I knew I could save. Practices where I felt like I was starting from ground zero. I have learned to not let those moments define me and learned to take accountability for my mistakes without letting them consume me.

As a goalkeeper, I’m the last line of defense; when something goes wrong, all eyes are on me, realizing I couldn’t carry the weight of every loss on my own. I would not let my teammates place all the blame on me, but I also wouldn’t shy away from owning the role I played.

 Learning the difference between taking responsibility and protecting my confidence is one of the hardest, but most important lessons.

Soccer teaches me more than just how to guard a net; it teaches how to believe in myself when no one else does. I found a second home in my teammates and a second chance in my own belief. 

Every training session, every game and every mistake teaches me something new. Whether it’s refining my technique, building resilience or learning how to lead from the back of the field, I know I’m still just getting started.

Freshman me wanted a letterman jacket full of patches. Sophomore me found something better: grit, purpose and a love for the unexpected. Each day I step onto the field and I carry more than just the role of a keeper. I carry the mindset I worked hard to build the confidence I fought to earn, and the love for a sport that found me when I wasn’t even looking.

I didn’t end up where I thought I would—but I ended up exactly where I was meant to be.

I didn’t just switch sports. I rewrote my story. And that, more than anything, is my proudest accomplishment.

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