Playing Through A Pandemic
Last fall was… interesting. I think almost everyone went through something similar—an attempt at “normal life” that felt awkward, forced and not really close to normal because, let’s face it, we were over half a year into a global pandemic that’s completely altered everyone’s lives. As a D1 soccer player, my fall was an attempt at a “regular” season that had me feeling all sorts of ways. Mostly, though, burnt out and guilty for it.
Now, I know what you’re asking. It’s the same question I’ve heard approximately 5,000 times since last August when we returned for preseason.
“Aren’t you so happy you had a season, though?”
Yes. And no. Sometimes I was thrilled to have an outlet and other times playing in a soccer game was the furthest thing from my mind. I still don’t really know how I feel about it. I do know this, though: it’s okay not to have a solid answer.
What Everyone Wanted Me to Say
Throughout much of the summer and fall, it seemed as though everyone was always shouting, “YOU ARE SO LUCKY YOU SHOULD BE SO THANKFUL HOW AWESOME HOW AMAZING WOO GO SPORTS!!!” For crying out loud, people like Trevor Lawrence literally took to the streets, shouting about how we want to play. I spent the fall trying to match everyone else’s levels of enthusiasm (and falling short almost every time).
Don’t get me wrong—of course I wanted to play soccer. I love the game more than anything. On top of that, I felt so much gratitude for everyone who worked and sacrificed just to give us a season. At the same time, it almost felt as though gratitude for the season was being shoved down my throat. It felt like I couldn’t really express my concerns about having a season without being ungrateful, privileged or less of an athlete. I didn’t feel like there was a space (not even in my own head) where I could acknowledge my excitement to play but also voice my concerns. I internalized it, telling myself that if I were a true competitor, I’d 100% want to play. But that just wasn’t the case.
What I Need to Say
Throughout the fall I was physically present: running, kicking—all that good stuff. But mentally, I was so far removed from the game. I was burnt out and uninspired. Between the pandemic and the tensions surrounding racism in this country, soccer seemed to be one of the least important things at the time. What were we doing strategizing for a game when the world was falling apart around us? It felt silly. I’ve spent my whole life hyper-focused on soccer, but it never felt less important than it did last fall.
For the first time in my life, I was going through the motions. I lacked motivation, passion, drive. I gave everything I had, but I was running on fumes. And instead of being patient and giving myself the empathy I so desperately needed, I beat myself up.
“If I’m the athlete I say I am—nothing should take away from my game,” I thought.
What an arrogant thought, that I could be such an athlete that not even a GLOBAL PANDEMIC AND A RACE WAR AND THE DISMANTELING OF EVERY SINGLE STRUCTURE I GREW UP WITH could throw off my game. I mean, come on. In retrospect, it’s ridiculous. But in the moment, I was torn between wanting to be that person and not having an ounce of energy to actually be that person. It was incredibly difficult and sent me into a really bad place. I was drained.
Final Thoughts
I’d like to say that I have it all figured out now and know whether or not having a season was the right choice, but I still don’t. I do know this, though: you can be grateful for the opportunity to do something you love and still acknowledge when it’s burning you out. If any athletes reading this feel the same way (I’m sure you might—see this NCAA study for proof), please share your experiences with me. I’d love to hear your stories. Until then, be patient with yourselves, everyone. We’re still getting through this together.