Solo by Hope Solo

Author:Hope Solo
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins US
Published: 2012-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

IV.

The next day, Marcus and I went to look at caskets. I was irritated by the incredible cost of ornate boxes, with leather padding and brass adornments that would just be burned up. The man who had been happy in a tent in the woods would have scoffed at the excess. Marcus and I found black humor in the absurdity of my father in a lavish casket. We decided not to get anything. We were going to dress my father in his beloved University of Washington sweats and a Native American Pride T-shirt he liked to wear, and cover him with a UW blanket—he didn’t need any fancy trappings.

While we were there, my phone rang. It was Greg again. He must have gotten impatient waiting for me to call back. He wanted to know when I would be back. I stepped into the hall to talk. I told Greg what I had known all along, ever since I had left the hotel in Cleveland. I needed to play in the game in New York. It was the moment my father had been looking forward to, and even if he wasn’t there, I wanted to fulfill the promise of our trip. I wanted to honor him by playing.

“Greg, I want to play against Brazil,” I said. “I’ll be there. I’ll play.”

He hesitated, then launched into minutiae about the travel and practice schedule. He thought I would miss too much training, but I knew the calendar. There was an off day and a travel day. I knew I would miss only one practice session. “I’ll be there,” I said. “I’ll play. My dad would want me to.”

Despite telling me he would honor my wishes, Greg told me that he thought I would be a distraction to the team. That he didn’t think I would be emotionally ready.

What the fuck did he know about emotions? I thought. He was a man who had patted my shoulder and called me “kiddo” moments after I learned my father had died. One day he told me to let him know what I wanted to do; the next day he was telling me how I felt. Was I supposed to apologize because my father had died? Was I being punished? I couldn’t believe it. I thought back to 2002, when I had roomed with Brandi Chastain when her mother, Lark, died of an aneurism. Brandi played the next day, and her teammates rallied behind her and picked her up. Eight months later, when Bri’s dad died, she came back and played in the next scheduled game.

Greg told me I could sit on the bench with the team. He had made up his mind. He wasn’t going to let me play in New York against Brazil.

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