What stories do you tell yourself?

When I was fourteen years old, I played for a club called Cincinnati United Premier. Our team was really tight knit, and extremely confident, bordering cocky. There were only a few teams in the whole state that had our number, so we entered most of our games expecting to win them.

One weekend, in the championship game at a small tournament, I got fouled in the box. If you don’t know the rules of soccer, most fouls in that area result in a penalty kick (PK), where the attacker gets to shoot uncontested against the goalkeeper from twelve yards out. 

It’s a high pressure situation that calls for a cool head from anyone brave enough to volunteer. Being the leading scorer on my team, I naturally decided to take it. I’d taken a handful in the past, so I figured this would be a no-brainer. 

I remember placing the ball on the white circle that marked the spot. I remember the grass feeling more spongy in that space than in any other on the pitch. I remember glancing at the keeper and thinking she looked massive. I thought about how some of my extended family had traveled here just to watch me play. I remember repeating the words don’t blast it over the net and remember the utter silence up until the referee blew his whistle. As soon as it sounded, I ran forward and struck that ball as hard as I could.

And I missed.

The keeper didn’t even have to save my shot. I just missed the goal entirely. I did the thing I told myself not to do and completely skied it. I missed, and my team lost the championship game. Sure it was in some unknown, inconsequential tournament, and in the grand scheme of things it wouldn’t affect our season or our chances at state cup, but we still lost because I had the perfect chance to score and I didn’t.  

That was the last PK I ever took.

From that moment on, throughout my entire career from college to playing pro, I never volunteered to take another PK again. Why? Because I told myself at the age of fourteen that I couldn’t take PKs. I made that wound my story.

PKs became a wound that never healed because I wouldn’t allow it to. I had conjured a tale about that day and became a victim, and instead of changing the narrative, I held onto it so it could justify any future decisions not to step up. At the age of fourteen, I had made up an excuse so I’d never have to endure that experience and that responsibility ever again.

But what would have happened if I’d been brave enough to change that narrative? What would have happened if I decided that I would practice this type of free kick so I could face them with more confidence when my team needed me again? In one of my matches at Purdue, our team got knocked out of the NCAA tournament because of a penalty. I remember watching from the sidelines because I was still playing victim to my false narrative. 

Sometimes I wish I could go back and tell my 14 year old self to shake it off. To give her the resources to change the narrative from I can't take PKs to I’m going to practice and get better. From please don't miss to watch me put it in the back of the net. From I don't want to take the kick to I got this.  

One of my favorite Arsenal players, Bukayo Saka, received hateful messages and racist abuse after he missed his PK for England. He was only nineteen at the time.

When the next opportunity presented itself, everyone held their breath. He was nervous--how could he not be after all the abuse he suffered after his miss? How did he respond?  

What kind of narrative did he formulate after his miss? What story did he tell himself that created the courage for him to step up and accept this level of responsibility again? It must have been a beautiful story. It needed to be a beautiful story. 

The stories we tell ourselves are powerful. They can dictate how we interact with our sport and beyond it.

So... What stories are you going to tell yourself today?