I want to start off this blog with a little snippet from an
article I wrote for The Rugby Breakdown (check out that article for a little
recap of the first part of our World Cup experience).
We kicked off our World Cup tour in Washington, DC, a place
that boasts its own history and has its own spirits lingering around old
buildings and swampy recesses. The Irish Embassy welcomed us and the 1983 team,
the first ever USA Women’s National Team, to kick off our weekend in DC. The
highlight of the event for most of the players was getting a chance to meet the
players who had played their position for the first time. Kit Kat (Katy
Augustyn) and I got to meet Mary Money, the first hooker for the USA WNT, and I
found out that we almost played together at a tournament last year at the DC
Furies-hosted tournament, Ruggerfest. I decided to play for the Old Girls that
year, and though she usually plays for them, she had to miss that particular
year.
We also had a fundraising event at Scion restaurant in
Silver Spring, MD. If you’re thinking, “Isn’t Scion a rugby academy,” you’re
right. The owner of Scion Academy, Joanne Liu, also owns two Scion restaurants.
I’ve been playing for Scion for a few years now, and so of course I am biased
in regards to both our brand of rugby and the restaurants’ menus, but I have to
say, the food at the fundraiser was the best we’ve had thus far on tour.
The fundraiser also featured a Q&A with the current WNT,
in which attendees were serenaded by Jordan Gray and her melodious harmonies,
as well as Naya Tapper, and her glass-shattering screeching. There was also a
photo booth and a myriad of props to entertain guests. And at the end of the
event, Jillion Potter, Olympian and former World Cup competitor, gave the
Eagles some well wishes and valuable advice.
We ended our stay in DC with a practice at the 15th
and Independence field, under the looming Washington Monument, on a pitch,
riddled with divots and lush with wiry weeds (the home pitch of Scion Academy—where,
in the words of Sara Parsons, “champions are made). It was a fitting end to our
DC leg of the World Cup Tour, on a pitch like so many in this country, rugged
and beaten, which is revealing of our squad—we play where we find the space to
play, and we grind it out, despite the terrain.
And now here we are, in the
mist and the fog of a lush Irish landscape. It feels a little surreal, in part
because the ending of the long camp felt like the end of the hard stuff, but there
is more hard stuff ahead; it’s just a different sort of hard. It’s surreal
because we’re in a country steeped in mythology and history—that dates back
hundreds of years before the USA existed as a country—and looking around at the
lush grasses, foliage, shrubbery, you can’t help but believe in fairies
yourself. And it’s surreal because we are living our goals and yet there are
more goals—so much more potential to live into.”
That is exactly how noble and
heroic we all felt in Ireland. The World Cup was a big event there. And here’s
where I’ll pause and say that it could’ve been bigger, we could’ve had more
promotion, and the women could get an easier go of it as far as the schedule goes.
And that’s all I want to say about that now.
We were in the Irish media.
People knew who we were…I mean, not by name, though I have been picked out in a
crowd as Alev Kelter twice in my life now. We were asked for pictures in
public. And overall, we got a little taste of the celebrity life (like B-list
celebrity…or maybe Food Network B-list celebrity). It was fun, and not in an “all-night-bar-hopping-blast”
kind of way. People told you how much they appreciated watching you play, and
then some joked about how they wished you luck but only so far as the finals
and then their team would best yours (this is, after all, the best they can
do).
And then
there were the fans—the support in Ireland, and the support flooding in from home
was nothing short of amazing. I am not being sentimental or fulfilling some
duty in saying that. I will forever be grateful for my friends and family, all
of my teammates’ friends and family, and all of the USA supporters. My mom got
to see me play in a United States of America uniform for the first time, and I
got to give her a hug after two games in a World Cup, something I’d done in
every sport I’d played, since I was five years old.
After each
game, we toured the inside of the arena, meeting with our friends, family, and
fans. We would meet an amalgamation of old Eagles, costumed fans, loved ones,
foreign fans, old teammates, young fans, drunk fans, and those fans who were
chomping at the bit themselves. You know the ones, because you remember being
like them yourself—putting your face out there to not only pay tribute, but to
say as well, “you’ll be seeing me around.” That is always good energy—seeing the
next generation immersing themselves in the game.
Having a
birthday on the day of Opening Ceremony will also be one of my most favorite
memories. I secretly pretended that the ceremony was in honor of my birthday,
and that made me smile the whole way through (how they knew I wanted a lady to
fall from the sky, I’ll never know).
And amid all
the hoopla, and the recognition, and the fans, and pomp, and ceremony, and
heroics, were my teammates. More than the ceremony, more than the hoopla, more
that even the games, will be my teammates and the memories we made—and I’ll
save you from having to read our sentimental inside jokes about The Bridge to
Terabithia, peanuts, and single shot lattes (seriously...single shot lattes).
Those are the moments that made the World Cup experience one of the best in my
life. And those moments wouldn’t have been so special if we weren’t also
competing in one of the most grueling sporting events…and I’ll touch on those
in my next blog, World Cup Musings Part 4.2: The Games…and stuff.
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