W.P.S.: Once Again, Hope Triumphs Over Despair

A few mornings ago, Nikki Krzysik, Rebecca Moros and I showed up to play pickup with a bunch of guys. We entered the indoor facility in Clifton, N.J., excited about our preparation for another professional season. We left heartbroken, feeling as if we had nothing to play for. In the instant I saw the e-mail that W.P.S. 2012 would not be taking place, my motivation was zapped. I had a lump in my throat. Even worse was seeing the faces of the two other women who were there with me. Our livelihood had been taken away from us all at once. What now? Who should I contact? Where can I play? What are my options?

Yes, I knew that the league was fragile, but my optimism made me sure that I’d be suiting up for the Atlanta Beat in a couple of months. On Jan. 30, I lay in bed, looking at the comments on Twitter and attempting to brainstorm my next move. I was emotionally drained. Distraught. Confused. Angry. Very angry. For about three hours.

Somehow, though, no matter how many knocks I take personally, or women’s soccer takes as a whole, I cannot help but feel an extraordinary amount of hope in the bigger picture. What kept popping into my mind, amidst some tears and the nagging urge to just let myself give up, was the “resume in 2013” part of what I had read.

There has been a lot of discussion about the resources that are lacking in order to make this league work as we had hoped. But maybe this year will be a good time to step back, assess, and consider the resources that we DO have. We have a very successful U.S. Women’s National Team, which is chasing an Olympic gold medal. We have marketable players who are known outside of the soccer world. We have five owners, and potentially more interested ones, who are committed to W.P.S. We have talented women training every day to compete for roster spots. We have families and young players hoping to be able to watch games and one day possibly participate themselves. This is what we DO have.

I don’t mean to diminish the hardship that this last-minute season suspension has caused many people. It is devastating that there will be no W.P.S. this year. Personally, I am now unemployed and scrambling to find playing opportunities abroad. But wouldn’t it be a shame to waste even one day hanging our heads when we can begin working toward making W.P.S. work in 2013? Maybe this year is a blessing in disguise — a time to step back, gather our resources, and realize just how important W.P.S. is to a lot of us. Let’s start preparing for the 2013 season now!

Where I Learned to Love the Game

From the outside it looks like a big warehouse. When you walk in, it smells of rubber, perspiration and shinguards. It’s noisy. The walkways and bleachers are old, cold and gray. But on the turf, magic happens.

Soccer balls are flying everywhere. There are colorful lights flashing. Techno music is often blasted over the speakers. Youngsters who can barely walk are playing their first game, while men well into their 60s are warming up to go onto the field next.

My iPod is loaded with songs that remind me of this place. My arsenal of soccer skills is full of techniques I learned and practiced there. My mind and heart are full of fond memories of this facility.

This is where I learned to love the game.

When I first stepped into the Armory in Teaneck, N.J., I was 13 years old. I was already serious about soccer, with the same lofty goals that still drive me today. But 12 winters ago I found the place that transformed this sport for me forever. What I experienced in the Armory made soccer so much more than simply a physical and mental exercise. I want to play at the highest level and I want to do so for as long as I am able. But because of my time at the Armory, I can safely say that I love the game as something beyond my career and my goals at this point.

“Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way.” — Donald Miller from “Blue Like Jazz.”

Kazbek Tambi (Kaz as he is known), a member of the 1984 Olympic team and New York Cosmos, was the person who introduced me to the Armory and was my coach at the time. Every session there would be girls and guys of all ages and backgrounds. I learned nuances of the game, experienced how it feels when it “clicks,” and watched Kaz play and love the sport as if he were in the prime of his career. Before I met Kaz, I loved soccer as a pursuit and measure of personal achievement. He showed me how to love the game itself — the competition, the intrigue of learning to solve problems on the field and the camaraderie of what has become my soccer family.

There were winters when I’d be at the Armory every night of the week and then all day Saturday for a tournament. And Kaz would be there well before I arrived and would still be there after I left. He created the environment for us, but also for himself. The guys who would come to play with our high school-aged girls’ team weren’t getting paid to do so or training for anything in particular, although they are some of the best players I have ever played with and against. They just loved to play, and so when they got a call from Kaz, they would show up.

One night last week I got that call from Kaz. Some of the high school girls had training and he offered for me to jump in. It was not an opportunity for me to get fitter or sharper technically or to be challenged on the field. It was just a chance to play. As I opened the door to the Armory, the lights and noise and pure joy of soccer greeted me. This is where I learned to love the game.

Decisions, Decisions

I’ve played for many teams in my soccer career and won some significant championships, but it seems I’m still searching for my home. My first season as a pro was with Sky Blue, where we rose from a tumultuous beginning (and last place) to win the inaugural championship of Women’s Professional Soccer in 2009. During that season and the next, despite many ups and downs, I had wonderful teammates, and gained the experience necessary to become a member of the U.S. women’s national team pool.

Once my Sky Blue contract was up, I chose to join the Western N.Y. Flash expansion franchise. Our team was stacked last year, as they say, and propelled by the unstoppable twosome of Marta and Christine Sinclair. We rode the top of the standings all season, all the way to winning the league championship.

With two W.P.S. championships under my belt, and after spending some time reflecting on my first three seasons, I decided that despite this success, I needed a change, for personal development. I started to consider options in Europe. I was searching for an environment in which I felt more needed than I had in the past, and where I could get more 90-minute games, which are definitely at a premium in W.P.S. with so few teams and so many quality players. I explored, but didn’t feel incredibly enthused to move across the world at this point in my life. Additionally, the league was in crisis, and my work with helping to make sure it was in business for 2012 made me realize that my participation is important, especially in these early years when stability is a priority.

The five-team league narrowed my choices. I have only positive feedback to share about the environment in Western N.Y. It is a quality team with a dedicated organization and great training environment. Still, sometime change can be good.

I spoke to James Galanis, coach of the Atlanta Beat and left the conversation feeling really inspired, in a different way than I had in the recent past. Coach Galanis talked to me about an environment where if I show up every day, work hard, and bring the tools I have to offer to the best of my ability, I will be an important part of the team. I was sold. I’ve never been afraid of challenges or fighting for my spot, but it’s nice to know that I can simply be the “best me,” and have faith the rest will fall into place. I am excited about the prospect of having a new “home,” and a coach to help me reach my potential

In a couple months, I will embark on a new adventure. I am extremely excited to play for Coach Galanis and with the group of players the Atlanta Beat has assembled. It surprises me sometimes how after all these years, all the challenges I’ve faced, and all the times I’ve “failed” as well as succeeded, that I can get this excited about a new situation and a new chance to play the game I love. It’s something really special to me — to enter a situation with the experience of a veteran but the enthusiasm of a young (or younger!) player.

A New Year, a New Perspective

MONTCLAIR, N.J. — I don’t make specific New Year’s resolutions because I always have goals. Something that I began to think about as 2012 approached, though, is what my expectation is for the coming year. Then I read this quotation: “Expectation indicates the juncture between where you are and where you want to be.” — Abraham-Hicks Publications

My goal is to begin to eradicate that juncture — to have no expectations in the way that I have had them in the past. I am in the midst of an interesting personal paradox. When I look at my long-term goals and where I would like my soccer career to be as a 25-year-old, I realize that I have repeatedly not met my personal expectations. However, the more I play train, and strive for these goals, the more I have developed faith in the person and player I am, as opposed to the person and player I strive to be.

I’ve come to accept that I do not control certain aspects of my journey. I am a “planner,” in every sense of the word, but I cannot plan my career much beyond each day of training. At times, my expectation — that juncture between where I am and where I want to be — has caused me stress and frustration. I hope to eliminate that expectation and only expect of myself what I know I can, and will, do. I will do my best every single day. I will push myself to be better than I am at this very moment. I will plan for success, but experience whatever may come my way with grace and gratitude. This part of my career I can plan, and can feel good about no matter what.

So for 2012, I have no expectations; only inspiration to continue on my journey to play and share the game I love in the best way I know how. And I’m excited that I have a W.P.S. season to look forward to!

On that note, I can’t tell you how much I appreciated the comments on my last blog (and the feedback via Twitter) about W.P.S. It produced a great discussion on how best to keep the league alive and viable. For those of you who have said, “How can I help?” or “Where can I send money?” there’s a simple answer: buy season tickets. Pick a team, even if you don’t live in the area, and support that team by buying tickets. If there is no W.P.S. franchise in your area (yet), give the tickets away as a gift, donate them to a charity in the area, or even donate them back to the team to auction off. This is something tangible that every supporter of W.P.S. can do. I am personally committed to doing everything in my power to insure that this league will be around for years to come.

I wish my readers a very Happy New Year. May each and every one of you be inspired and motivated to attain your dreams, yet at the same time find peace and happiness in who you are at this moment!

Trying to Save W.P.S.: A Player's Perspective

MONTCLAIR, N.J. — “When W.U.S.A. folded, one of the worst things I continued to hear was that it was too bad they [the general public] didn’t know more about it.” When I read that in an e-mail from a fellow W.P.S. player, I was moved to do my part. If you don’t already know, W.P.S., Women’s Professional Soccer, may not exist in 2012.

This, as I understand it, is the situation: On Nov. 20, US Soccer met to decide whether W.P.S. would be continue to be sanctioned as a professional league. The federation has established basic standards for a league to be considered professional, and this past season W.P.S. did not meet several of these standards. There must be no fewer than eight teams, and they must span more than one time zone — two stipulations for which W.P.S. was granted an exception. US Soccer has given W.P.S. 15 days to secure another franchise, meaning the league would again consist of six teams, still technically below the standard. But this has put W.P.S. in a bind. A bind that could potentially threaten the league’s existence.

There are a group of players (myself included) who have been involved since the inception of the league in 2009. We are closely tied to its success and struggles, and have had discussion after discussion about how W.P.S. is faring and what we can do personally to insure its survival and success.

I like to think that I have a fairly realistic view of the state of women’s soccer in the U.S. I am fully aware that it is likely never going to be a huge money-maker, filling large stadiums and securing tons of corporate sponsors. I have, however, seen extra seating brought into Sahlen’s Stadium in Rochester to accommodate more than 14,000 fans for a Western New York Flash game, with others unable to get tickets.

I have seen families gathered around the U.S. women’s national team training field in Scottsdale, Ariz., eagerly hoping to get an autograph. I’ve seen girls screaming as if they were at a Backstreet Boys concert for the chance to meet Abby Wambach or Alex Morgan. I’ve seen Hope Solo, on “Dancing With the Stars,” transcend her role as an athlete and become a celebrity. I’ve seen fans jumping up and down, almost at the point of tears, because I gave them my used, sweaty shinguards after the W.P.S. final this past season. These things tell me that there is hope, and a lot of it.

I whole-heartedly believe that there is a market for women’s soccer in this country. No, it is not going to be a multi-million-dollar-making endeavor. And it will not happen quickly or easily. But the raw materials are there. If they weren’t, I wouldn’t feel so strongly about making it work.

No Longer Merely a Fair-Weather Fan

CHAPEL HILL, N.C. — I woke up to my alarm, put on my Juventus jersey, and headed downstairs to the living room Sunday morning. It wasn’t a major championship, no one I knew personally was playing, but as I turned on Fox Soccer, I felt nervous in anticipation of the outcome.

I’ve always been a fan, but never truly supported a team. I am a fan of the sport, of particular styles of play, of individual players, but as I watched my boyfriend agonize over Juve’s failures last season and saw him celebrate their goals as if he had scored himself, I realized that maybe there’s a part of this sport that I have yet to explore.

I remember when I first started watching soccer with my dad. My coach at the time told us that it was helpful to watch games on TV, so of course, we made a point to do that whenever we could. We didn’t know much, and this was before DVRs, so we watched whatever game was on.

Over the years, I got to know all the major players, got a subscription to FourFourTwo magazine, and spent a lot of time (mostly during class) watching highlights. I used to memorize the names of the players on Man U because one of my youth coaches was a die-hard fan. I had a calendar of Real Madrid when Roberto Carlos and Zidane suited up for it. I have an old Arsenal uniform, an Inter hat and shirt (sorry Juventini, it was before I knew any better!), a really old-school Chelsea jersey, and some other random team memorabilia that I somehow acquired over the years.

I absolutely love the way Barça plays and moves the ball, but my support is for their personnel and playing style. I have not followed the club through its ups and downs, and who knows whether I will watch them once Xavi, Iniesta and Messi are long gone.

I started watching Juventus toward the end of last season. Initially, I wanted it to succeed mainly so my boyfriend wouldn’t be in a bad mood for the rest of the day. I watched in hope of falling in love with a skillful, creative team, that was just an underrated version of Barça. But it was nothing like that. I saw a group that was noticeably struggling. Despite momentary sparks from wing Milos Krasic (one of the first Juve players I could identify on the field because of his blond hair and distinctive style) and the important late addition of striker Alessandro Matri, I didn’t see much that I felt was worthy of my support.

But what I soon realized is what it means to really support a club. As I learned more about the history of Juve, saw the pride of its supporters, and watched the team unveil its new stadium, I couldn’t help but want success for the Old Lady, as it is called.

Jonathan Moscrop/PRESL, via Associated PressAntonio Conte is the new manager of Juventus of Italy’s Serie A.

I like the new manager, Antonio Conte, and the changes he’s made this season. Andrea Pirlo is now one of my favorite players and has a style I aim to emulate. I admire the work-rate of right back Stephan Lichtsteiner. And I actually get kind of emotional when Alessandro Del Piero (the club’s career leading scorer and most capped player) takes the field. I am far from a Juve expert, and wouldn’t dare yet say “we” in reference to the team, but I watch every game and my support is growing.

It is easy to watch Barça and know that they will do well and it will be an enjoyable viewing experience. I will always appreciate beautiful fútbol. But there’s something to be said for being more than just a fair weather fan. I’ve watched Juve begin a transformation back to the Italian powerhouse they historically have been. And I will probably need to get rid of my Inter gear next time I’m home.

Averbuch: Always Learning and 'Just Playing'

CHAPEL HILL, N.C. — Every time I think I’ve “figured it out,” I’m proven wrong. I think that I’ve gotten to know myself as an athlete, got a handle on my career, dissected this crazy game I play … and then I have some sort of epiphany. The more I learn, the more I realize there is left to learn. I’m about to go play pickup. I’m sponsored by Nike and can get whatever training gear I could possibly want or need, but I’m wearing my favorite Barca shorts and an old Nike T-shirt that is worn and faded. My cleats and turf shoes are in a plastic shopping bag, and I have a gallon of water I bought at a gas station to help me stay hydrated. I’m a professional athlete who thinks juggling with friends in a Costco parking lot is one of the most fun things in life. Pickup on the intramural fields in Chapel Hill blending in as “one of the guys,” is just as enjoyable to me as playing in a big stadium with beautiful green grass.

I am constantly learning about myself and this sport I love.

Up until this point in my career, I’ve been fine with fighting for a spot, battling (sometimes what seems like uphill) to get on the field and to stay there. But after this past W.P.S. season of limited playing time, it hit me: I need to play. On my club team in high school, I was always held to a high standard and challenged, but there was a level of comfort. I knew that my team needed me, and I was free to just simply play and get better through trial and error.

There is a fine balance as a player between being pushed and being free to make mistakes. Playing in college at North Carolina, I was a starter, but definitely never had that comfort level. The way Coach Anson Dorrance runs his program, you constantly feel the stress to compete for your spot (which is one important element of athletic growth). For the past three years, playing in W.P.S., I’ve been in and out of starting lineups. I’ve been subbed out of games, been on the bench for 90 minutes, and even at times questioned whether I would be selected for the 16-player travel roster. This being said, I’ve been on two of the three W.P.S. championship teams and have enjoyed playing on rosters stacked with talent. Ultimately, I haven’t had a season that I feel my contribution was even average compared to my personal expectations, though.

So far, that has been O.K. for my development as an athlete. I’ve learned what it means to be a good professional, seen what it takes to play with and against the best in the world, and continued to hone my strengths and work on my weaknesses. Finally, though, I feel that I need a specific environment to continue to improve. I need to play somewhere where I feel that comfort level like I did for my club team. I am searching for that environment.

I understand that I will always have to prove myself as a player and earn my spot, but no longer do I feel that I can maximize my development on the training field. I need game experience and the freedom to make mistakes and see where that takes me. Until I find that comfort in a professional environment, I will continue to find it on the pickup field, where I can “just play.”

Western N.Y. Flash: W.P.S. Champions

MONTCLAIR, N.J. — Life is a constant series of moments. There are those that flow by, fleeting and unremembered. Then, there are the few among those millions that define an important part of us. Sometimes this happens in retrospect, but other times you can feel the importance of the impending moment right while it’s happening.

My mom really doesn’t like penalty kicks. She’s watched hundreds of soccer games, and never actually watched a penalty kick live. For the first time, in this year’s Women’s Professional final in Rochester last Saturday, I had complete sympathy for her sparing herself from witnessing those tense moments.

As I stood in the center circle trying to keep my legs moving and muscles loose, I could see the moment unfolding in front of me. One by one, four of my Western N.Y. Flash teammates had scored their penalties, as had the four Philadelphia Independence shooters. I was fifth. I’ve always been fine taking penalties; I’m O.K. with the pressure of deciding a game. I believe that a good penalty taker is anyone who wants the responsibility. And I did. I welcomed the opportunity to contribute in any way that I could.

Was I nervous? Heck yeah! I had played in roughly 20 minutes of the game and with one kick I could potentially lose the championship for my team. But I tried my best to focus on the fact that just as easily, I could win it.

When I was in college at North Carolina, our assistant coach, Bill Palladino, suggested that I make up a penalty kick routine — a certain way to place the ball, number of steps, breathing pattern, thought process, mantra — it could be anything on which to focus in a moment of pressure. As I walked (I never run or jog to the penalty spot) the distance to take my kick, it was all just part of my routine. As I took my shot and saw the net ripple, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I had come through in a decisive moment.

As the Western N.Y. Flash raised the W.P.S. championship trophy (after a terrific save on Philly’s fifth penalty by our goalkeeper, Ashlyn Harris), it was an important moment in my career. Unlike the 2009 W.P.S. championship with Sky Blue F.C., my role this time was different. I’m proud that I was able to remain confident and focused to be the best I could be when I was called upon. Months of work and the outcome of a whole season came down to one moment for each of our five penalty takers, and all five of us did what it took.

For the past six months, my teammates and I have essentially been living the same life. We would wake up every morning, drive to training, return to our apartment complex and spend the rest of the day hanging out with each other. But beginning the day after the championship, we have dispersed into our own 23 worlds. As I sat in my parents’ house in New Jersey, Alex Morgan ate an In-N-Out Burger in California; Whitney Engen was with her new team in Sweden; Beverly Goebel had just arrived in Finland to play’ and Maurine was already back home in Brazil.

Right now, I’m about to go kick the ball off the wall at the local schoolyard, just like I did every night growing up.

Next Up: W.P.S. Championship Game

I’ve been part of an underdog team that’s defied the odds. In 2009, Sky Blue F.C. was the fourth and final team to make the playoffs in the first season of Women’s Professional Soccer. We went on to beat three teams that we had not beaten in the regular season and won the inaugural championship. For the majority of this season, the Western New York Flash has been at the top of the table. With our most recent win against the Atlanta Beat, we secured the regular-season title.

Two completely different feelings. Both equally thrilling.

It’s interesting to examine what makes up a winning team. I’ve been fortunate to be on many strong teams and have won various tournaments and championships over the years. Each time, the experience has been different, but there is always an intangible and exciting aura surrounding a team that wins.

Obviously, talent is essential. Every W.P.S. team is stacked with superstars, though. So what happened between the Western New York Flash establishing goals in preseason (win the league, outscore every team, concede fewer goals than any team) and actually going on to achieve those goals months later? Does it come down to the coach imposing a certain style of play? Team chemistry? A 9-year-old Flash fan asking her Magic 8 Ball if we would win the championship and it saying, Yes? I wish I knew.

The other night, as the final whistle blew, signifying our official first-place finish, the played hugged and congratulated one another. Most of us were thinking ahead to the championship game that we will now host. We have a roster of women who, although humble and hungry for victory, you may expect to be jaded by winning.

After all, two of our players have won all three regular-season W.P.S. championships (Marta and Brittany Cameron, playing for the L.A. Sol, F.C. Gold Pride and now W.N.Y. Flash). Eight players on our roster have previously been W.P.S. champions. Four of us have won N.C.A.A. championships. And we have World Cup and Olympic finalists.

As we walked off the field after the game against Atlanta, though, I noticed that one of my teammates was jumping higher and yelling more enthusiastically than the rest. Beverly Goebel was absolutely elated. She told us later, “This is the first thing I’ve ever won.”

In an instant, it was all put into perspective. This season is not just another win on a list. It is an amazing accomplishment, for so many reasons.

For Bev, it is the first of what will hopefully be a long career filled with many big wins. For many of us, it is our first regular-season W.P.S. title. And a record of 13-2-3 in a league with this type of parity is astonishing. Yes, I could examine in detail how and why it all turned out the way it did. But there is no one formula, and every time it is just as extraordinary. Bev’s celebration was a wonderful reminder to take nothing for granted. And our quest is not over yet: we have one more big game, on Aug. 27, when we will host the W.P.S. championship at Sahlen’s Stadium in Rochester.

And on that day, we all hope to be jumping just as high as Bev Goebel!

P.S.: I do appreciate the reaction I received via twitter (@yael_averbuch) when I asked for topic ideas for this blog. Not only is my writing aimed to organize and explore my own thoughts, but it is a way to let you in on what my life is all about. I’m eager to tell you what interests you have about me, my teammates, my views on being a professional player, and striving for success.

At Mia Hamm’s Celebrity Challenge, the Hero Wore Cargo Shorts

WASHINGTON — A young man in a yellow polo shirt stood in the middle of the futsal court, surrounded by his family, and even with his sunglasses on, you could tell that he was crying.

On the same court stood Kobe Bryant, Pep Guardiola, Mia Hamm, Nomar Garciaparra and various other celebrities. The young man was there to meet his hero. But his hero did not emerge in Yankees pinstripes or a United States women’s national team jersey. Instead, an unassuming man strolled casually down from the stands in cargo shorts and a tank top. The two embraced emotionally with everyone looking on.

No one in the crowd had heard of Jeffery Santana before that day, but I doubt that anyone will forget what they saw. At 16, Andrew Vickers, the young man in the yellow polo, received a diagnosis of lymphoma. Santana was tested as a possible bone marrow donor. Fifteen years after being tested, Santana got a call that he was a match for someone in need of a transplant. On that futsal court, Andrew Vickers came face to face for the first time with the man who had saved his life.

When I got to pass back and forth with Pep Guardiola, I thought that my day was complete. I’m not one to be star-struck, but the Barcelona manager and his team are my fútbol idols. Shaking the hand of Jeffery Santana, however, was by far the highlight of my day. I have never felt so honored to meet a true hero.

I have always known that my involvement in this sport transcends the playing field in many ways, but rarely have I seen such a tangible example as I did atMia Hamm’s Celebrity Soccer Challenge in Washington last Sunday. I got to wear Barça gear, hang out with amazing people and play futsal in front of a great crowd. But the most memorable part of the day had nothing to do with soccer. I got to see first hand what the Mia Hamm Foundation is all about, and I (along with many others) was floored.

I have always had the utmost respect for Mia’s legacy as a player. But the impact she has made off the field is even more incredible to me. I strongly urge you to check out the Mia Hamm Foundation Web site. I plan to get tested to become a potential donor, and I hope that I am lucky enough to be a match for a person in need.

This sport continually inspires me to become better — as an athlete and a human being. Once again, I feel humbled and incredibly grateful to be reminded of the impact I can have on other people. A huge thank you to Mia for showing that to us all.

Our Game Is Lifted

ROCHESTER — Our bus turned the corner toward the stadium. A full two hours before kickoff of the Western New York versus magicJack game last Wednesday, people were already searching for parking and making their way to the stadium gate, where the line stretched down the block. Chills.

It was more than a glimpse at my dream for women’s soccer. Extra bleachers had to be added to 13,000-seat Sahlen’s Stadium to accommodate more than 15,400 (a W.P.S. record) screaming fans. Youth players fought their way to the fence for high-fives as we entered the field for warm-ups. Many hung around after the game, desperately trying to collect autographs and photos with their favorite players.

There has been much speculation on the impact that the 2011 Women’s World Cup will have on W.P.S. Already, it has been enormous.

I watched the World Cup from several vantage points — as a player hoping to participate in the 2015 World Cup in Canada, but also as a fan, and supporter of the development of the women’s game.

In the 2007 World Cup, Germany demolished Argentina, 11-0, and Norway beat Ghana, 7-2. There were no such games in the 2011 tournament. World Cup debutantes like Equatorial Guinea and Colombia showed that they were forces to be reckoned with. Three of the four quarterfinal games went into extra time, and three matches had to be decided in penalties. Women’s soccer is no longer a battle among four or five powerhouse teams, with some others added to fill the brackets. This signifies huge growth in the women’s game and is vital leading into the 2015 World Cup, which will include 24 teams instead, up from 16.

Japan, the eventual tournament champion, also says something about the development of the women’s game. Any team that beats Germany and the U.S. (despite arguably being outplayed by the Americans) in the same tournament can, in my eyes, proudly claim a championship. As I mentioned in my previous post, the level of play and differing cultural expressions of fútbol in the World Cup were awe-inspiring.

Throughout the tournament, Japan moved the ball like no women’s team I have seen. Their technical ability and tactical savvy set them apart, and they were able to persevere despite the devastation the country has experienced recently. Where some teams showed that they had individual brilliance or superior physical talent, Japan’s World Cup title is the prize for a complete team effort. It is the result of discipline, class and a brand of fútbol that has been groomed over many years but with not much recognition on the world stage until this point. In many ways they have taken the women’s game to a new level of sophistication.

So, what does all of this mean for me, and for W.P.S.?

For the moment, the spotlight is on women’s soccer. Maybe games for the rest of this season will be sold out. Maybe not. But no matter how lasting or ephemeral the impact, what I saw as our bus pulled up to the stadium the other night was more than girls with pink prewrap in their hair to imitate Alex Morgan.

It was more than the I ♥ Abby signs. It was more than the Brazil jerseys with Marta’s name on the back. It was hope — hope that something that my teammates and I care so deeply about may one day be appreciated and embraced by the masses.

Women’s World Cup: A Great Cultural Display of Fútbol

This past weekend, I witnessed the beautiful game in its truest form.

I saw hope, devastation, acrobatic skill, career-marring error and game-changing heroics. I watched one team accomplish the seemingly impossible, and another dash the hopes of an entire nation. Few fútbol games have entertained and intrigued me as much as the 2011 Women’s World Cup quarterfinals.

On Saturday morning at breakfast at our hotel in Philadelphia, I had an interesting talk with my fellow teammates Rebecca Moros, Whitney Engen and Beverly Goebel of the Western New York Flash. Becca trained with a team in Japan for a couple months last year and was sharing some of her thoughts on how the training and playing style there differs.

She analyzed some of the cultural differences and the way girls in Japan learn to play and process the game from a young age. In many ways, their system is the opposite of what American youth players are taught. One aspect of the game we talked about specifically was possession. As youth players in the United States, it is instilled in us to “know what to do with the ball before it gets to you.” Becca felt that in Japan, they don’t decide what to do with the ball until the last second, making them much more unpredictable, which helps them to maintain possession, even under high pressure.

Not that there is a right or wrong way to play, but our conversation got me thinking about various styles and how they relate to culture in general. It’s fascinating to watch how the women’s game is developing and see these distinct styles continue to emerge and, in some ways, mimic the men’s game.

I love to see the teams who try to play good fútbol be successful. But I found myself struggling to identify exactly what that is. Does that mean extreme technical proficiency, possession and clinical finishing like the Japanese women display? Or a more free-flowing, yet also the technically solid French style? Or maybe the tactical sophistication and organization of the Germans? Or is it the Brazilian ability to produce individual magic with the ball like no other women in the world? Or maybe the mental and physical fortitude to overcome the odds and score a great goal after playing down a player for much of the game, like the U.S. women showed? The beauty of this game is that there is no single way to be successful.

After all, 5-11 Abby Wambach can score a great header, but so can Japan’s 5-4 Homare Sawa. Brazil’s Christiane is known for her ability to dance on the ball, but I was equally impressed by France’s Louisa Necib when it came to creating in the attack. Hope Solo had a couple spectacular catches, but Equatorial Guinea defender Bruna showed that she could do it, too. (Joking! But that was another entertaining moment of the tournament. In case you missed it, like the ref, check it here.)

This is the first Women’s World Cup I’ve watched where I’ve played either with or against many of the players. While I find myself at times trying to think of how I would match up, I have been swept away and thoroughly impressed and amazed by the atmosphere and level of play. I watch in admiration as not only a teammate and aspiring World Cup participant, but as a fan!

My Job and My Hobby

How can this game make us feel so terrible one moment, and so wonderful the next?

This question often arises for me, and as I drove home with my boyfriend after his men’s league game, we talked about it yet again. The Western New York Flash got a week off, and I went back to Chapel Hill, N.C., my “home away from home.” During the week, I played pickup, and although it’s “just for fun,” I found myself characteristically depressed one day after I had not played well. On the other hand, even in that casual atmosphere, there are so many days I finish playing as if I had won a crucial game, thrilled because of how capable I felt.

As much as I love to play myself, watching my boyfriend’s team play helps me to appreciate yet another nuance of the beautiful game. The relaxed atmosphere elicits nostalgia for the days of youth soccer, when personal pride was the main thing riding on results and performance.

Even though the guys show up only 15 minutes before kickoff, and sub themselves in and out, their games are strewn with intense tackles, tricky combinations and skillful finishes. There are an array of body types, playing backgrounds and fitness levels, but that makes it even more entertaining.

My week of pickup futbol and taking Gatorade to the sideline of the guys’ games is over.

We are back in western New York, preparing to face the Philadelphia Independence again on July 9. We suffered our first defeat of the season to them, 1-0, right before our break, so we are motivated to get back to work to prepare to play them again.

The team that has returned to Orchard Park, however, is slightly different than the one that left. Over the past couple of weeks, we’ve slowly said goodbyes and good lucks to our teammates playing in the World Cup. We are missing Alex Morgan (U.S.), Christine Sinclair and Candace Chapman (Canada), Caroline Seger (Sweden), Ali Riley (New Zealand), and Marta and Maurine (Brazil). Those are seven important players, and as they battle it out in Germany, those of us playing for the Flash will be doing so with the same dedication and intensity.

While a few names on the back of the jerseys on the field for W.P.S. teams will be different, many high-caliber players have been training hard and waiting for this chance to step into the starting lineup, or get some time as a sub that they may not have seen before. So while we will miss our World Cuppers dearly, W.P.S. competition is still at a high.

Here’s to everyone who has invested him/herself in this sport enough to give it that power to make or break your day — whether it’s playing on the world stage or kicking around for fun!

The Girls Next Door

There’s not much going on in the small town of Orchard Park, N.Y.

Main attractions include the driving range and movie theatre. But living in several obscure apartment complexes, dispersed throughout this suburb of Buffalo, reside some of the best women’s soccer players in the world.

At 10:00 a.m. every morning, in the often overcast and sullen area, a fútbol team assembles and files into the locker room of Sahlen’s Sports Park. But it’s not just any fútbol team. It is arguably one of the top several women’s club teams in the world, with international superstars like Brazil’s Marta, Canada’s Christine Sinclair and Sweden’s Caroline Seger. These players, among many other talented women, take the field in Western New York Flash training gear.

“Work” officially begins at 10:30 a.m., and for anywhere between an hour and two hours, some of the highest-level women’s soccer anywhere in the world takes place on the turf inside the indoor facility. Fast-paced, one and two touch fútbol is more than occasionally sprinkled with a jaw-dropping moment of individual brilliance by Marta.

After training, the team changes back into street clothes and returns to everyday life in Orchard Park. Our neighbors, who are mostly elderly, see us leave and return, and although friendly and often fans of the team, likely have no idea the caliber of athlete living next door.

This has been my life for roughly the past three weeks. Right now, the Flash remains undefeated, with six wins and one tie. If you’ve been able to catch any of our games either live in Rochester or on Fox Soccer Channel, you know that we play an exciting mixture of possession and attacking fútbol. In fact, if you’re a W.P.S. fan, you’ve probably noticed that the overall quality and level of play in the league has improved dramatically each year.

It’s no secret that the first two-and-a-third seasons of W.P.S. have been tumultuous. Since the inaugural season in 2009, we have seen four franchises fold, had one move and added three teams. I am now at my second W.P.S. club, but some players have suited up for as many as four different clubs.

As players, the uncertainty can be nerve-racking. But being part of a club like the Western New York Flash gives me a lot of hope in the longevity of what is not only a league to me, but my job and my passion. We do this because it’s what we love and because we are devoted to our clubs and our teammates and everyone who is working hard to make W.P.S. succeed.

That’s why this weekend, as we entered our hotel in Philly and Marta was instantly mobbed by screaming youth players (not just girls) and even some parents, the blockade in front of the elevator only made me smile. One of my teammates transcends the role of “women’s soccer player.” She is a celebrity, and that showed me that despite whatever uncertainty surrounds W.P.S., things are going in the right direction.

One Door Closes, Another Opens

Our intrepid blogger was not named to the United States roster, which was announced Monday, for this summer’s Women’s World Cup in Germany. She nevertheless filed this assessment.

“It’s interesting to contemplate how our lives build to these special, pivotal moments — the moments we dream of, work toward, and emphasize so heavily. But, in truth, the bulk of our lives are in the in-between time, the waiting. The ‘off moments,’ so to speak. The special moments are only minor reference points along the way. … I don’t play this sport for the moment of glory. And I think the people who do are missing out. Yes, I love the roar of the crowd, the championship game and the thrill of performing when it really matters — but I love the preparation — the process — equally as much.”

ON THE ROAD TO BUFFALO — The above passage is from a speech I gave in January 2010. My journey has been full of these reference points. But sprinkled among many wonderful, exhilarating moments, has been my fair share of disappointments.

When Pia [Coach Sundhage] said to me, “You are not on the roster for the World Cup team,” my heart dropped momentarily. In the minutes after, reality sank in. I scanned my memory in search of anything I could have done better or differently. I felt angry, sad, embarrassed.

I had poured my heart and soul into a goal that I didn’t achieve. In my journal, “Germany 2011” is written in big letters and in multiple places. So, yes, I felt all of the emotions that come along with failure (the day I don’t feel that way is the day I’ll know that I should no longer play competitive sports). But then I opened my journal to a fresh page and wrote: “Olympics 2012.”

Conquering my fear of failure has been a monumental step in my development as a person and an athlete. Actually, maybe no one really ever conquers the fear of failure. Maybe it’s all about reframing one’s definitions of success and failure. How can I ever truly fail if I do my very best? This process has led to significant growth for me as a player, and I feel very proud of what I offer on the field. The only way I could have failed is to not have grown along the way.

I don’t mean to gloss over the disappointment I feel, or in any way diminish the great accomplishment of those players who have made the roster. But my reasonable side continually reminds me that this is just another one of those moments — a blip on the radar screen that maps my unique path. Playing in a Women’s World Cup is one of my ultimate goals, yet doing so will make me no greater of a player. Likewise, not being in Germany this summer makes me no less of one.

So, as this chapter of my journey ends, another one begins. I am heading up to Buffalo to join my W.P.S. team, the Western New York Flash. I’ll have the opportunity to train and play alongside some of the greatest female players in the world (Marta and Christine Sinclair, among others). As the door to one opportunity closed for me, another one opens. The only way I could possibly fail at this point is to focus so much on the past as to miss out on what presents itself on the road ahead.

No Tweeting From the Ice Bath

WEST PALM BEACH, Fla. — I tell my body to do a lot of things: Run one more sprint. Strike 50 balls. Push through just 15 more minutes. Warm up. Cool down. Sit in an excruciating ice bath. But sometimes it’s not about what I tell my body, but what my body tells me. Sometimes it’s not about doing, but instead listening.

When I get too run-down, I get a dull headache. If I don’t rest, it turns into a migraine. When I train too hard, my muscles feel different (not that satisfying, fatigued/sore feeling after a hard workout). If I push it too much, I get a slight strain. These are things I’ve learned over the years by being forced to listen to what my body has to say, rather than just making it do what I want.

The body can be an amazing tool. Mine allows me to play the sport I love as a profession, and I demand a lot from it. For these reasons, I try really hard to listen. It’s not something I’ve completely mastered (nor do I ever think I will), but I’m certainly trying.

The feeling of mastery is so satisfying — knowing that you fully understand something as well as anyone can possibly understand it. I want to understand my body in this way — to be able to push it to it’s absolute limit, maximize everything it has to offer, yet never exceed that fine line, either mentally or physically. I have immense admiration for a player like Christie Rampone, who at age 35, after giving birth to two children, is one of the fittest and most well-rounded athletes I’ve ever seen.

There is a feeling that comes with having attained a certain level of mastery. It is not specific to fútbol, but fútbol is the medium through which I have experienced it. The feeling comes in those fleeting, yet memorable, moments in which actions feel effortless, and a supreme capability inhabits both body and mind.

The path to mastery is carved through paradox. It’s training hard enough to be in optimal condition, yet still allowing my mind and body adequate rest. It’s remaining motivated and striving to be the player I dream of becoming, yet feeling confident and satisfied with who I am right in this moment. It’s about telling my body what needs to be done, but listening to what it has to say in return. Treading these fine lines, and finding balance, is an art.

As we enter the final weeks of training before the announcement of the roster for the World Cup, I face the challenge of asking from my body (and mind) for everything it can give. I am surrounded by a group of athletes who operate under the premise of no regrets.

We are all doing everything possible to be our absolute best. This means something different for each player, especially because we are all at unique points along our journeys and in our careers. Whether or not the final roster of 21 players includes my name, I can confidently say that I’ve done everything in my power to give myself the best opportunity to make the team. And there’s no better feeling than having done your very best.

No regrets.

In Florida, Light Heart and Heavy Legs

WEST PALM BEACH, Fla. — We’re only several days into camp and despite sunburned faces (Mom, I promise I wore my sunscreen!) and heavy legs, laughter still ripples throughout the meal room.

I’m in bed and I can feel my legs pulsing in my recovery tights. The two ice baths a day (one after each of our sessions) haven’t been enough to successfully combat the soreness and fatigue. My serious hydration regime — carbohydrate and electrolyte recovery drink, enormous food intake, and absurd amount of sleep with daily naps — are all being put to the test. Yet somehow, I still can’t wait to get out on the field again.

This camp is a hectic one to say the least. The women’s national team will be here for three weeks, with players heading in and out on weekends for W.P.S. games — negotiating their professional games between national team training. Now that the W.P.S. season is underway, the scheduling is a little more difficult. There are days when different groups are doing different things in training, depending on the timing of their W.P.S games.

My W.P.S. team, the Western New York Flash, won its opening game of the season and its W.P.S debut, 2-1, against Boston last weekend. I wasn’t at the game because I’ll be joining the team after my national team duties, but I was excited to see how well they played, especially for a first game. The team plays at Atlanta on Sunday (Fox Soccer Channel, 6 p.m. Eastern).

For those of you who follow W.P.S., you know that there are only six teams this season, so it’s going to be extra competitive and high quality. It’ll be interesting to see how team identities emerge. I may be slightly biased, but I think that the Western New York Flash will be particularly entertaining, especially now that Marta and Maurine have arrived from Brazil. (I actually ran into them in the bathroom of the Atlanta airport as I was heading to camp and they were on their way to the team in Buffalo. I was going to try out the minimal amount of Portuguese that I’ve mastered, but most of I learned from my Brazilian teammates in the past is inappropriate, so I decided against it.)

It’s 9 p.m. here and my eyelids feel almost as heavy as my legs. For updates on how camp is going, you can follow me on Twitter … Yael_Averbuch (In case you couldn’t find me. I know, it’s pretty clever!)

Needless to say, the intensity is high (physically and mentally) as we embark on this training camp. But spirits are equally as high, which makes what could easily be a stressful environment, exciting and enjoyable.

Britain Behind and (Hopefully) Germany Ahead

Matchroom Stadium on Brisbane Road, the home of the East London club Leyton Orient, played host to an animated crowd for our game against England on April 2. The English team came out inspired. They fielded familiar names from W.P.S., including one of the best female players in the world, striker Kelly Smith; the attacking-minded right back Alex Scott; and my former teammate and Sky Blue F.C. goalkeeper, Karen Bardsley.

Anyone who watched, or read about the game, knows that it was far from one of our best performances. England dominated the first half, scoring two goals, before we got one back just before halftime on a long-range strike by Megan Rapinoe. We made several substitutions in the second half, who all played well and helped to turn the momentum, but our chances weren’t quite enough. Despite the well-played 45 minutes by Stephanie Cox, and the spark provided by Tobin Heath, Lauren Cheney and Alex Morgan, the score finished 2-1.

I didn’t see the field, but it was a special game for me for another reason. In the stands were three of my former coaches, three people who had a great impact on my development as a youth player. Growing up in Montclair, N.J., many of my first coaches were English. The majority of them eventually moved back to England and I hadn’t seen them (Emma and Alex Burden, and Ricky Blackman) for close to 10 years.

I feel fortunate to have had some amazing early guides to help me navigate my path. From spending hours at the field having me strike balls with proper technique until my feet were bruised and my hip flexors strained, to teaching me the basics of juggling and challenging me to keep track of my personal records, or just leading by example by playing with my team and showing what it means to love this sport — I owe credit for my foundation as a player to a group of very special people who inspired me and provided me with the environment to succeed.

I’m always looking forward — planning, aspiring, setting goals — but sometimes it’s edifying to look back and pay tribute to what has gotten you to where you are. Those are the ideas, the concepts and the practices that will bring you continued success.

We finished our trip in Scotland with a few muddy days of training and then a closed-door game, in which we beat Scotland, 5-0. It was good to end the trip with a solid win, but we have identified some areas to focus on in our next training camp. On a personal note,the coming camp in Florida is my final opportunity to have a good showing before the World Cup roster is selected. It makes me a bit anxious, but thinking back, I’ve done everything in my power to give myself the best opportunity to make the team.

I guess the challenge (for me, in this case, or for anyone really) is to acknowledge and learn from the past, best prepare for the future, and do this all while enjoying and being focused on what you can control in the moment.

In England on a ‘Business Trip,’ With the Boys, the Boots, the Kits and on the Pitch!

It’s a routine day at the office.

We step off the bus, lace up our boots and jog to the far sideline and back a several times, some of us stopping to stretch or knock the ball around. Typical.

This time, however, it’s not quite so typical. The soil into which our cleats plant is English, the spectators all speak with accents and our opponents outweigh us by, on average, 40 pounds.

As we jog, out of a minibus step the boys we are preparing to scrimmage; correction, men. It is a U19 team, much larger and stronger than the U16 boys we are accustomed to playing at the Home Depot Center in outside L.A.

Minutes into the scrimmage it becomes clear that despite the physical mismatch, we are the better footballers (note the English terminology). Our technical and tactical advantage just falls short of matching their superior speed and athleticism. We lose, 1-0, but over all have a good performance and are forced to play a fast-paced game.

Typical day at the office.

We are here on a “business trip,” if you will, with training and meetings taking up a lot of our time. It’s not all business, though. We got the opportunity to explore London one evening, and a definite highlight was getting to see the England-Ghana game at Wembley Stadium.

The bus ride took nearly two and a half hours, but eventually, after weaving through traffic, we could see Wembley’s giant lit arch through the fog. The stadium at night is breathtakingly beautiful. I have to admit that I don’t feel particularly strongly about either side, but as I stepped out of the walkway to get to our seats, the atmosphere in the stadium was like no other game I’ve experienced.

As the vibrantly dressed Ghana team lined up in red opposite the traditional all-white English kits on the brilliant green, carpet-like pitch, I got the chills. I don’t think I said more than three sentences all game. I just watched, mesmerized. There’s something about seeing a game in person — watching powerful, skillful athletes perform with ease the game you love, that is supremely inspiring. I left feeling energized, despite the fact that we didn’t get back to the hotel until after midnight.

With just this trip and one training camp left before the World Cup roster is announced, what seemed like a long process, with plenty of time for the expected ups and downs, all of a sudden feels a bit less forgiving. We face England on Saturday and then go to Scotland to play them on April 6. Yes, it’s a business trip, but I have to say, this business is pretty fun. And no matter how routine it may seem, no two days are ever the same.

In Portugal, With the Team, but Not on the Team

ALBUFEIRA, Portugal — “There’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be,” the Beatles told us in “All You Need Is Love.” It’s amazing the things that come up when your iPod is on shuffle. I was on the bus heading to our second game of the Algarve Cup, against Norway, when the above line struck me with great clarity.

Twenty of the 24 players who traveled to Portugal made the Algarve Cup roster and I was not one of those players. Disappointing, yes. But I’ve tried to find value in the place in which I’ve found myself. I firmly believe that line from the Beatles’ song.

By no means do you have to be pleased or satisfied with where you are (nor should you be at times), but it can still be where you’re “meant” to be, for various reasons.

In any given moment, all you can do is your best. For me, right now, that means remaining positive, focusing on my individual training and supporting my teammates in whatever ways I can. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not easy or enjoyable to sit in the stands. I was glad to watch my teammates play well and beat both Japan and Norway (2-1 and 2-0), but of course I would have preferred to be on the field, or even on the bench.

My initial instinct was to say to myself, “How can I change to be better?” But a more beneficial question is really, “How can I be a better me?”

I offer something different than any other midfielder. Instead of viewing it as a competition (difficult, considering I see everything as a competition), I must embrace what makes me unique. And I genuinely respect the qualities that each of my teammates offer.

Watching the first two games of the tournament, I loved to watch Carli Lloyd making runs forward and taking players on at the top of the box. I was inspired when Heather O’Reilly ran past her defender like the girl was standing still. I was impressed by Ali Krieger’s energy to get up and down the flank. And I was excited to see how the game changed when players like Lori Lindsey and Tobin Heath came on.

We have two days off and then play Finland Monday. It’s difficult to go to the game as a spectator, but I believe that where I am is where I’m meant to be, and I will do my best to be there, present in the moment, as the best me … nothing more and nothing less.