my father had a checklist

My father had a checklist to help me prepare for my trip to Minnesota for school. Not a written one but a mental list that he walked through carefully and in an organized way.

He found a sweater from land’s end that was practical – warm without being too heavy so I could transition easily from the cold winter air to the warm classroom. He bought every color. Sherbert hues of pink, yellow, blue and green.

He did exhaustive research on my winter coat – it needed to be long enough to cover my hips and be able to withstand the unimaginable cold of Northfield, Minnesota. I saw it and knew right away that it was long and dorky and that I definitely did not want to wear that coat. Pac boots with a shearling felted insert, lug sole and laces to close the suede upper. Comfort level 20 degrees to negative 40. Practical. Rugged. Dorky.

Two large heavy suitcases - full of my practical cold weather gear. I flew to Minneapolis the week before school to start the pre-season soccer camp. Kristen picked us up in the white athletics van – four long bench seats and an interesting mix of nervous freshman and good to see you again upperclassmen. Kristen was striking in that she was short and stocky and sporty in an REI kind of way. She was the team captain and smiled easily and worked hard to make us feel comfortable. I sat next to a girl from Oklahoma who told us all how she was the best player in the state; how she had played for the best select teams Oklahoma. My mind raced back to the summer letters from Herve – all of which included very specific conditioning plans to prepare the incoming players for the season.

Houston is Africa hot in the summer and the idea of running outside seemed like the most ridiculous thing in the world to me. I was a natural athlete and soccer had come easily to me since i started playing in the fourth grade. Unlike school – where I felt like I worked hard just to keep up in my accelerated track classes – soccer was joyous and it made sense to me. I was a strong player and my love for it only made me better. I reasoned that if I could play in the Houston summer – then I shouldn’t have any problem in the fall season in the much cooler world of Northfield.

I did not train that summer and only re-read the letters for a second time on the night before I left for school. I was terrified as we travelled the hour from the twin cities to Northfield. How was I going to explain to my dad that I had come all this way and did not make the team. Clearly the girl from Oklahoma was the star and I would be lucky to even earn a jersey.