Solo, Hope Solo [best non fiction books of all time .txt] 📗

It sounded like an adventure, a chance to make more money than I could in the United States, and a way to prove to April and Phil that I was determined to get better. I needed game action, and I would get it in Sweden.

In February I flew to Göteborg and then headed directly to the Canary Islands for training camp, where I met my new teammates. I was the only American on the team. Playing in Sweden changed my life. Unencumbered by college obligations or family demands or the chase for the national-team carrot, I rediscovered my love for the game. I wasn’t trying to please anyone or move up a ladder or prove anything to April. I relaxed and had fun.

Early on, I lived out in the country in a guesthouse on the team owner’s estate with two players from Brazil, Daniela and Juliana. But my friends on the team insisted that I come stay in town, so I got an apartment in Göteborg, a beautiful city that was easy to navigate. I was making more money than I had made in Philadelphia, and I didn’t have any expenses. The team covered my apartment, my food, my phone, my Internet, my car, and my gas. So I gave my teammates rides everywhere—none of the Swedes on the team drove cars because gas was so expensive and they weren’t reimbursed. I was having fun.

Even better, I could tell I was improving on the field. The pace of the game was faster than in the WUSA; I had to make quicker decisions and take charge. Our team was playing well, and I was considered one of the top goalkeepers in a pretty good league.

I loved walking the cobblestoned streets of Haga, the old district, or wandering along the canal. I drank cider with my new friends and learned to toast by saying “Skål.” Lotta Schelin and her older sister, Camilla, became my close friends, inviting me to their family home nearby and including me in their elaborate Easter dinner, where I learned to eat pickled herring. My closest friend was midfielder Sofia Palmqvist, who was a deep thinker. We were both in our twenties and trying to figure out life. We went kayaking together outside of town, talking about our lives and dreams. We played Dance Dance Revolution in my apartment and went to clubs in Göteborg. I also spent a lot of time alone, reading books like Dan Millman’s Way of the Peaceful Warrior, about an athlete on a spiritual journey. I started a journal. I began to read the Bible. I wanted to find my center, to expand my heart and mind.

Now that I was far from my family, I appreciated their support and love even more. I called my dad and sent him postcards, and I called my mother almost every day. She had visited me in Philadelphia where—sharing a bed in my tiny studio apartment—she had opened up for the first time about her history with my father, telling me how they met and all the pain he put her through. I felt I knew her better now and I wanted to stay connected to her. Living on my own gave me perspective on the struggles she went through to make sure we had a home.

I had to move five thousand miles away to fully appreciate that.

III.

In late May 2004, I left my Swedish team and flew back to the United States for the Olympic residency camp in Southern California. April was finalizing her roster for the Athens Olympics, and—except for a few games with the Charge—she hadn’t seen me play since September 2002. I had few expectations about making the Athens roster. I was just happy with my progress in Sweden, and I wasn’t nervous about impressing the national team coaches. Everyone could tell that something about me had changed. On the field, I felt looser and more confident. I had an excellent two weeks of training and then returned to Sweden.

When the Athens roster was named in late June, the two goalkeepers on the team were Bri and Kristin Luckenbill. Luckenbill was a Dartmouth graduate who had started for three years for the Carolina WUSA team but hadn’t played on the national level. Her emergence left me little hope of being named an alternate—I assumed that the final slot on the team would go to an experienced goalkeeper like Siri. But in early July—a few games before my Swedish team went on an extended break for the Olympics—goalkeeper coach Phil Wheddon called me. “Hope, we want you to be our alternate,” Phil said. “We can see how much you’ve grown in Sweden. Because you’ve been playing competitive games we think you’d be better prepared than the goalkeepers who have only been able to train.”

My first reaction was to reflect on the journey, all the hard work and sacrifices I had made along with my family. My second was to worry about my bank account. My mother was coming to visit me in Sweden, and I had planned a big trip to Italy with Adrian. Those non-refundable airline tickets put a damper on my excitement. But then April sent me an e-mail letting me know I didn’t have to fly back to California for the final weeks of preparation—I could stay in Sweden, finish out the first half of my season, do my traveling, and then meet the team in Greece.

I immediately shot off an e-mail to Lesle and Amy.

I’m writing to tell you guys that I’m going to Greece as the third goalkeeper. Although I want to be the first! :) I feel very rewarded, and I feel a step closer to my dreams. It’s a great feeling and I couldn’t wait to tell you since you two have been through it all with me, right there by my side. It’s taken several years, but slowly, it’s all coming together, and I want to thank you for all your support and for truly