Here’s a glimpse of my home away from home.
It doesn’t have to be this exact field. Any soccer pitch will do. Even a rival’s.
I’ll tell you why this is my home away from home, ahead even a disc golf course or closest taco truck. (Maybe in heaven there’s a disc golf course around a soccer pitch with a taco truck. On each sideline).
It’s cliché to call it a field of dreams. A field of hopes, maybe? Of transformation? You’d have to know me before the soccer pitch became part of my life. I’d never won. In anything. Introducing the King of Mediocrity. Average grades. Average SAT.
Plenty of third- and fourth-place ribbons.
Soccer wasn’t even on my radar.
