In the run-up to the 2014 World Cup, Landon Donovan, Kyle Beckerman, DaMarcus Beasley, and the rest of the U.S. Men’s National Team were in the thick of training for their upcoming matches on the world stage under the leadership of Jurgen Klinsmann. As the much anticipated global tournament approached, Klinsmann delivered the news to Donovan that he would not be on the final roster for the upcoming World Cup.
Photo from the Salt Lake Tribune
As Donovan tells the story, he was devastated. After hearing the news that day at training, he went into a bathroom stall, sat on the floor, and cried. He mourned the opportunity to perform at the most elite level of competitive soccer. As he did, his teammate, Kyle Beckerman, came into the bathroom and sat on the floor, putting his arm around Donovan and consoling him.
Donovan would only later come to realize that his friend and teammate had found out on the same day, only moments before, that he had made the roster for his debut World Cup performance. As the pieces came together, Donovan realized that Beckerman, after receiving the best news of his career, rather than making the moment about him, had taken the time to console and comfort his friend.
Donovan discusses this experience in the documentary Good Rivals, saying, “He had the self-awareness and the compassion to walk into the bathroom stall and sit next to me and console me. And then I thought about how many times had I made a team or a World Cup or been named a starter and had the self-awareness and the compassion to go to someone else who didn’t make it and put my arm around them? And the answer was I had never done that. Never.
So at that moment, learning that compassion and that level of self-awareness was way more important than playing three or four more games in a World Cup for the rest of my life. For sure.”
I heard this story recently as I watched the Good Rivals documentary and was choked up thinking about these athletes, competitors, and friends. Good Rivals is the latest on a long list of soccer documentaries, videos, and matches I’ve watched lately.
Do you know how a movie, music, or show can take you back to a season or moment in time? Bruce Hornsby and the Carpenters will always take me right back to road trips with my family; sitting in the front seat next to my dad and eating my mom’s Cheez-its as the mile marker signs flew by. I Write Sins, Not Tragedies will take me back in time to high school, and Old Heart Falls will transport me to the early days of dating my husband. I’m confident that when (if?!) the Leagues Cup returns in another season of football, it will take me right back to today, to this very tender post-partum bubble of healing.
Many evenings, for nearly the entire stretch of the tournament, my husband and I spent our evenings with our living room illuminated by only the light of the game broadcast as we sat together, rocked, paced the floor, and took a deep breath at the end of the day. We talked about the teams, the arrival of Lionel Messi to MLS, and let ourselves stress out about penalty kicks rather than the next thing on the “to-do” list.
I don’t know if I recognized it initially, but I think the Leagues Cup saved my sanity during its run.
Sometimes, it can be easy to neglect taking care of our mental health because even just speaking “mental health” sounds daunting. The phrase conjures images of expensive talk therapy or hours spent in a clinician’s office. Sometimes, that is precisely what we need! However, sometimes what we need is someone to put their arm around us and meet us where we are, whatever that looks like. And sometimes, prioritizing or caring for our mental health can look like taking a breath and turning on a soccer game.
In this season, my mind needed something to focus on during the evenings as the light waned, and I weighed my own wins and losses for the day. Soccer did that for me. It was something to pay attention to that I knew wouldn’t make me anxious or stress me out — until the aforementioned penalty kicks, that is. In a way, I feel like I’ve adopted the whole league to my roster of support people, along with my family and friends. From the players (👋 RSL family) to the commentators (👋 Taylor Twellman and the gang at Extra Time), they’ve all joined my family in putting their arms around me and supporting me the way Becks did for Donovan, and in doing so, have allowed me to be open to peace, compassion, and healing.
DaMarcus Beasley, Kyle Beckerman, Landon Donovan at Disneyland in 1999. Found here.
If, like me or like Landon Donovan in 2014, you need a kind shoulder of support today, know that here, at least, there is someone who understands. And if you’re looking for a pocket of peace* in your day, join me in turning on 90 minutes of the beautiful game.
*(Just cross your fingers they don’t go into PKs)