Solo by Hope Solo (best free ereader .TXT) 📕

stunned me. OK, I thought to myself, you want me to look at you, asshole? I looked down again, gathered myself and slowly turned my head to stare at him, never breaking eye contact as he derailed my career.

I wasn’t ready for a major tournament, Greg said. He’d suspected it all along. And he could tell that in the first game when the ball went off my hands. He should have benched me after that soft goal. Bri had a winning record against Brazil, Greg said. She matched up better with Brazil’s style. She singlehandedly won the gold medal in the 2004 Olympics against Brazil. And she had just played Brazil in New York.

I watched his mouth move. I heard the words coming out of it. I could see how they’d be printed in the newspapers, replayed on ESPN, crafted into headlines and sound bites. Briana Scurry, one of the heroes of the 1999 World Cup, wins back her spot in goal.

I was numb. Greg was waiting for a response. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of weeping or raging. I worked hard to channel my fury into clear, precise words. “Greg, I have to respect your decision because you’re my coach,” I said. “But I disagree with you. It doesn’t matter what Bri did three years ago. She hasn’t played a game for more than three months, she hasn’t been your number one for three years, and I’m playing the best I’ve ever played. I will never agree with your decision. And if anyone asks me, I will tell them that this is the wrong decision.”

Greg smiled. He was back to being the cool guy. “That’s why I love you, Hope,” he said. “I expect my athletes to want to be on the field. To be angry if they don’t play. I’ve given you four World Cup games. I’ve gotten you this far.”

“I’ve gotten myself this far,” I snapped. “Plenty of people—well before you came along—have believed in me along the way.”

Greg wasn’t finished. He told me that Lil and Abby had lobbied for Bri to get the start. “I agree with the captains,” he said. “It’s a gut feeling.”

There had been a meeting behind my back? A decision based on whom they liked better? I looked at Greg and shook my head with disgust. He was a weak leader. He was ditching responsibility. Greg didn’t have the balls to stand up for his decisions. He was passing the buck to the players.

“You can’t go by a gut feeling, Greg,” I said. “I’ve been your starting goalkeeper for three years. And now, in the biggest game of the tournament, you’re pulling me because your gut tells you to?”

Greg didn’t seem to like my tone. I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t folding. I wasn’t making it easy. Instead, I was fighting back with words and logic, keeping my emotions tacked down. So he tried to provoke me, just as he had on the field all summer. He criticized my training session, saying Bri had been much sharper.

He could make up whatever reasons he wanted, but he couldn’t attack my work ethic. He had told all the starters to take it easy in practice after the England game. We’d had four draining games in eleven days in the muggy monsoons of China. We had been specifically told to rest our bodies. I wasn’t the only one holding back. Bri, on the other hand, hadn’t played in three months—of course she was going all out.

I LOOKED OVER at Phil. I didn’t know what to say. Logic was out the window. Greg was all over the place, his reasons for benching me shifting every time he opened his mouth. There was clearly no use arguing. He was panicking. And I was paying the price.

We were both silent. I had nothing left to say so I stood up to leave. Greg leaned over and pushed me back down on the couch. Hard. “You fucking leave when I say you can leave,” he said.

I was stunned that he had touched me. I wanted to lash back, to hit him harder than I had hit Marcus or punched the cheerleader at the carnival or anyone else in my life. For a split second I really thought I would—I felt my hand move forward. But I wasn’t going to let him provoke me. I restrained myself and glanced over at Phil, glad to have a witness. “Are we done?” I said icily.

I went back to my room shaking with anger.

For our short stay in Hangzhou, I was rooming with another goalkeeper, Nicole Barnhart, which was awkward. Usually goalkeepers don’t room with each other. I preferred not to share my space with someone competing for my spot. I didn’t want to confide in Barnie but she was in the room when I called Marcus. All the feelings I’d held in for the past half an hour came tumbling out. I cried and railed against Greg. I didn’t make any attempt to hide my emotions.

Marcus was hurt too, but he told me that he loved me and how proud he was of me. That gave me strength. There was still something I needed to do.

III.

I walked out of my room and down the hallway to find Kristine Lilly. Lil was playing in her fifth World Cup. She was the last of the veterans from the first World Cup in 1991. We had never been close, but I respected her ability. But I wasn’t intimidated by her résumé. She needed to hear me out.

“Lil, I’ve been your starting goalkeeper for three years,” I said. “How can you decide—in the semifinals of the World Cup—that you want another goalkeeper?”

Lil looked shocked by my question, as though she never expected Greg to reveal their private conversation. She certainly didn’t seem prepared for a confrontation. She stammered and told me she didn’t think it mattered who was in goal.

“Lil, you’re our captain,” I said. “It should matter to you who’s in