Six 12 year old girls piled into a faded red minivan. I sat in the back, belting to early 2000’s throwbacks that blasted as someone’s dad carpooled us to one of many Denver games. We already had our soccer uniforms on. Blue socks, paired with blue shorts and an oversized white jersey. We were always excited an antsy but prepared to lose. This is what my first season with the Chaffee County United looked like. It had been a struggle to get a team together, much less a decent one, but nevertheless we spent every weekend driving to play. 

Hayden scored our first goal about halfway into the season. We were losing the game, but our entire team went wild, and an entourage of middle school girls flooded the field, screaming as if we had won the Olympics. 

Our next season was better, and through many grueling practices and beatdowns, we climbed our way up the leagues. As my team grew, I felt myself growing too, gradually finding my position on the field and role on the team. 

One of my favorite seasons was the fall of eighth grade. I had finally found my place in center back, and I loved it. A rush of adrenaline and anticipation flowed through my body before every game, sending bolts of warmth through my toes and up my spine. We were in the gold league, and had just the right combination of wins and losses that caused the season to be challenging but fun.  

Our last season ended with a whimper. My passion was low, worn down by my own self-doubt and insecurities. We drove to Wyoming for a game most of the team was happy to forfeit, and got destroyed in a dusty field right of the highway. The drive home was quiet, with only the sound of the radio crackling as my dad shuffled through stations. 

Despite the way our journey ended, I am endlessly grateful to my team. I dedicated six years of my life to playing for them, and I cherish every memory and skill I have gained from playing soccer for CCU.