[THE PITCH] I am a world traveler. I like the sound of that, and more importantly, I like the truth in it. I think it implies not only that I have visited many places, but also, I am on a course, a process of discovery; one that football has afforded me. While I am not a negative person, I admit that there is an everyday grind that comes with being a professional athlete. Cycling through highs and lows in a season, the repetition of trainings, the constant struggle to be better, well… it can be exhausting. And when football got rough in June, the task of creating a full, balanced life suddenly felt impossible . . . Like staring in the mirror too long, you began to scrutinize your face and focus on all the flaws! Fortunately, it was at this point that I left Sweden for my summer break.

My memories of London2012 are all but a daze…if it weren’t for the many snapshots taken by me, teammates, and friends I’m not sure I would be able to accurately recount the subtle nuances or even the more obvious details that made up this extraordinary experience. But my Panasonic is more than just a device. It’s a teacher, and after returning to the familiar surroundings of Sweden, I discovered lessons hidden in its science.

I spent 5 weeks in the UK, packing up and leaving every few days as we bounced from town to town, or venue to venue. And since I like to pick up new things and new tools along the way, you can imagine my load by the time I arrived back home in Göteborg. In fact, I departed for the Olympic pre-camp with one small carry on, and I arrived home with 3 additional suitcases…Despite all this, the most important take home item of all did not weigh a single ounce.

At first I did not notice it there, lying in my bag next to my newly collected USA paraphernalia. It is something of which I have not been conscious, and yet, it has existed all along. It is something I came upon accidentally, but have instantly recognized as priceless. Perhaps it holds the key to becoming the person and player I want to be while helping me recover some of the girl I once was. It is perspective and its effect is as magical as photography.

Now picture this: What looks like ‘Small Field/ Big Goals’ the US calls,‘4v4’ and the Swedes call tempospel—or, ‘Paced Game.’ In both Sweden and Great Britain, this drill dominated my training sessions. However, even with mostly the same rules, subtle stipulation changes (like adjusting the aperture of a camera) make 4v4 and tempospel two totally different representations. KGFC plays a lot of short games during which you substitute with a partner on the fly. In June, I often became frustrated by this system of starting and stopping, feeling like I could never find flow. In contrast, the USWNT plays fewer games of longer durations, and as I recognized the drop in quality that comes with playing into fatigue, I immediately began to miss the standard of tempospel. I longed for my tag-team, not only to catch my breath, but more importantly, to be able to zoom out and view the game from an outside perspective, for a moment to exercise my mind…

The US version of 4v4 would be more accurately named 1v1 1v1 1v1 1v1. All of the tactics of small-sided fotboll that had taken me months to digest turned into liabilities during soccer’s 4v4. Team defending by protecting the middle of the field, passing players, and staying organized was replaced by individual moments of brilliance, exceedingly hard work as you stayed with your player, and the emulation of the madness that often occurs inside the penalty area. I need to adjust my shutter speed for this…

Moreover, when the camera was a new technology, it was often described as ‘a mirror with a memory…’ But we know better nowadays; how changing the angle, the lighting, the focus, can make the same object appear completely different. Like a camera can turn images of the day-to-day drudgery into vibrant pop art in a single snap of the shutter, a new perspective changed my outlook on my life, on Sweden, on football. When I arrived home, colors appeared brighter, the air was fresher, the coffee was sweeter. It seems that by stepping back…temporarily stepping away, I am now viewing things through a rose-colored-lens again. I can sense it… and I feel it on the pitch.

With the addition of my two new teammates, Yael Averbuch and Camille Levin, I feel like I am now operating with a panoramic lens. They have helped me see the full scope of my experience here in more than one way. First, their enthusiasm and positivity for this new team and new life brought me back to the place I was in March—bright-eyed and bushy-tailed ready to take on the world…like going to Disneyland with a child, and seeing everything from his eyes. Additionally, playing with Cami, one of my best friends with whom I played with in college, helps me to see how far I have come.

Taking a break from the team I love, the environment I love, the place I love, was like discovering Instagramm…Flaws? What flaws!? I advise everyone to step back from the “routine” once in a while. The change in perspective will make all the difference!

[Stoppage Time] Last week we played two games. After arriving home on Monday, we played Svenska Cupen Quarterfinals on Tuesday against Kristianstad, who beat us in Damallsvenskan earlier this year. A few of us were playing on nothing but adrenaline, as the Olympics had left our bodies fatigued and minds out of sorts. However, it seemed to be more than enough, as we played a quality game: connecting passes, putting together solid attacks, scoring goals. We won 3-0 and had fun as we propelled ourselves into the Semifinals, to be played on the 29^th against Malmö.

After a few trainings altogether as a team and back into a regular schedule, we played again on Saturday in a league game against AIK in Stockholm. Now back in my fotboll flow, I thought my body and mind would feel sharp… but it wasn’t. A week on the turf (after 6 weeks of grass) left me aching and the stylistic switch left my mind spinning. We lost 1-0.

Sometimes it feels like playing on this team is just riding waves. Our team plays with such emotion. When we are winning, suddenly we knock the ball around with brilliance, patience, and confidence as we coast into shore. And when we go down a goal, the wind knocks out our sails and we spiral into an undertow of panic. I try to tread and splash to create a counter-current, but I’ve yet to succeed… still I “just keep swimming!”

Final Scores:

Göteborg FC 3 – Kristianstads DFF 0

Göteborg FC 0 – AIK FF 1

[Off The Post!] 

Swedish Brilliance. Stuff that’s just NotQuiteRight here in Sweden.

Drying Room= Goodbye drying machines! These drying rooms will have your clothes dry, fresh, and wrinkle free in 15 minutes.

Bathroom= Flash Flood. Basically a Swedish bathroom is a giant wet room. And with no cabinets, don’t ask me how often something falls from its precarious balancing position on the edge of my sink into my toilet.

Tap Water= Straight from the faucet, better than a bottle of Fiji.  

Rain Water= 365 days in a year, inevitable vitamin D deficiency.

Artificial Sweetener= Small but mighty, this tiny little thing has the strength of 10 Splendas.

Sweets= candy, chocolate, fika, pie, treats are EVERYWHERE in this country. The temptation is just too much. 

Fashion= Sweden is an up-and-coming fashion hotbed. The style is edgy and aggressively trend-conscious.

Fashion= But sometimes it's just too much.

RFL,

My Olympic Photo Blog.

My 'What Dreams May Come' Blog.

[THE PITCH] It was all a dream…80,000 enthusiastic fans filling up Wembley, English football’s hallowed grounds…Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt floating around a mythical village…cameras flashing… Kevin Durant and Carmelo Anthony stopping by for congratulations …parties…press conferences…presents…and still more parties…Yes, it was a dream…a dream come true at the 2012 Olympics. But was it my dream?

For… well forever, my dream of playing football at the international level has been just that: a dream… but actually, a different kind of dream. The kind of fuzzy, frustrating dream that you can’t articulate or grasp. The kind that feels so real when you’re in it, but dissipates abruptly and leaves few traces in the memory. More than a notion, but not completely thought out. The kind of dream that consumes you, while all along being so elusive that you really have no idea of what you are dreaming.

Over the last five weeks, I had the rare opportunity to step into my dream world. To see, taste, smell, and even touch this fantasyland. And in this dream, I dreamt. (hmmm..A dream within a dream? You’re killing me Leo!) Feeling pregame jitters in my US soccer jersey…”Gold or bust!”… Standing on the podium when they place that gold medal around my neck…and suddenly, I am drawn downward. I'm acutely aware of the heft of this pristine emblem of victory …Oh the sheer weight of it! I am humbled. And now, I can’t help but wonder, what does it mean to me?

I came into this dream as a dreamer (I’m still confused by Inception), an outsider. I was the new kid on the block. As such, I felt that this experience was not truly my own. Instead, it was glimpse into that which I someday hope to make my reality.

Here is my present reality. The Games were a lot more than a peek into future possibilities. My time with the USWNT has been a foundation for me to build upon… a blueprint of sorts. I’ve learned so much. I was afforded an opportunity to spend time around a world championship team. I was a part of their training and their everyday preparation for gold, and in the process, I earned respect from these teammates. I viewed football from a new perspective, familiarized myself with the international game, even stepped out of my role and played some center-mid! I could see women’s football growing before my eyes and was inspired by it all. On top of that, we won! We won games. We won gold. But the medal symbolizes so much more than football success.

I am wandering the streets of the village lined in an array of unflappably patriotic flags and cluttered with people. Super humans of all shapes, sizes, and colors are huddled in masses. The brightly colored team gear and the juxtaposition of petite painted gymnasts next to long volleyball players illuminates our global differences. And yet, our presence in the village alone is a reminder of our commonality. I stop to read the print on one of the many posters. It is the Olympic Creed and it states, “The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part, just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well." Hmmm…. Wouldn’t it be nice if all of our dreams came with clearly written interpretations?  You see, by viewing the Olympic experience from the “outside-in”, my vantage point is an advantage. While I don’t know what it feels like to have a gold medal around my neck, I do know how to go about getting one, and even more importantly, I now understand its true value.

Yeah, the ‘RAH! RAH! RAH!’ is great. Only a monk could honestly deny a little desire for fame and fortune. But there is so much more to life, to sports, to the Olympics, to my dreams…

I want to continue the pursuit of excellence, to sprint by the distractions in record time. I want to dive into opportunities and take aim at distant goals. I know there will be hurdles, but I’m even looking forward to pushing myself through the struggles and seeing how I fare.

I dream of spreading joy through entertaining, having the power to affect, someday being somebody’s hero. I want to be a part of inspiring a nation…a world…a child. By decimating barriers and building good will, I’d like to bring hope to those who have little or none.  I want to represent my country, not as a banner but a symbol, not a doctrine but a model of what sports can and should be.

In the words of Wilma Rudolph, the first American woman to win three gold medals in track and field during a single Olympic Games, despite running on a sprained ankle at the time, “Never underestimate the power of dreams and the influence of the human spirit. We are all the same in this notion: The potential for greatness lives within each of us.”

[Off The Post!] I always use camp as my reprieve from the primping duties that come with being a woman—known to many as basic hygiene. Away from the world, lost in all things football, it’s nice to sometimes just let it all hang out. Given that this was the longest camp of my life, and the 3 weeks mark snuck up quite quickly on me, this habit was getting borderline… no actually… absolutely disgusting!

I was playing ping-pong with Meghan Klingenberg in our hotel when the men’s Brazilian national team let out of a meeting and began hovering around the table. The presence of a very rare specimen in my current life: males, coupled with a wee bit of starstruckenness (I’m coining that term) made me hyper aware of the fact that I hadn’t brushed my teeth in hours, hair in weeks, and my leg hair was beginning to be in need of a brushing itself, at this point. My only redemption is I’m an incredibly talented table tennis superstar… oh wait, I’m lying. I’m not only terrible, but also, terribly embarrassed about it. So this scene put me in an instant and profuse sweat. Perfect, considering I wasn’t wearing deodorant.

Clearly, the boys wanted the table, but we continue to play… and by play I mean take turns hitting the net or missing the table. Finally, one of them decided to jump in (one of them being Real Madrid’s Marcelo). Another joined my team to make it a mixed doubled match. The awkward language barrier (I told Marcelo I could speak Spanish, but when I went to respond, Swedish came out… I thought, “You’ve got to be kidding me. NOW I know Swedish??), the sloppy ping pong play, and my stench (not to mention my increasing need to change my tampon) ensured that I did not look up from the table the entire game. In my head, I was dying a slow and painful death by humiliation. I was a hot mess.

Finally, when the game ended, I looked up to find none other than Neymar coming toward me for a victory hug. In all my dishevelment, I had been playing alongside Brazil’s star player—deemed the world’s best player by Pele himself… and not even realized it!

And while I will always remember playing mixed doubles table tennis with Brazilian football starts Marcelo and Neymar, I’m sure they will never forget the day they played ping-pong with a smelly, sweaty wildebeest!

RFL,

Happy Friday!

A day of blueberry hunting, swimming, and napping in the sunshine in the Swedish woods.

Columbine.

This edgy and avant-garde fashionista is Swedish style at its best! Whether she’s rocking shredded denim or leathered up from head-to-toe, I wish I could be as fierce as Colombine.

Check out her fashion blog here: http://columbine.freshnet.se/

The Passing of The Torch.

Of course, the 2012 London games have been spilling over with inspirational stories and tear-jerking moments of victory. From 16-year-old gymnast Gabby Douglas, aka The Flying Squirrel, becoming the first African American in Olympic history to win gold in the individual all-around competition... to London's darling Jessica Ennis collecting her heptathalon gold in front of what seemed like 80,000 flashbulbs... to the trancedental 100m moment when Bolt won gold, again, leaving all the pressure behind him with the rest of his competition. Not a day goes by that some inspirational sports story does not leave me with the chills.

Below is an ESPN article, le Clos example of the Phelps effect, that captures another beautiful Olympic moment.

http://m.espn.go.com/extra/olympics/story?storyId=8231855&i=FB&w=1c0hx&wjb