Email
Print
Feed
Kicking into Second Year |
Tweet |
By Ron Donoho
(page 1 of 2)
Weeks away from an April 13 season-opener, nearly two dozen lithe young women in blue shorts and white T-shirts run up and down a makeshift soccer field on Torrey Pines’ Allen Field. The marine layer hasn’t burned off—despite the morning promises of local TV weathercasters. It’s chilly and windy, and most of us standing on the sidelines are wearing coats and sweaters but still shivering.Only a handful of interested fans brave the unseasonable cool to observe this San Diego Spirit practice. One woman sitting on a cold steel bleacher seat has brought along her niece, visiting from Alaska. Alaska! No wonder the niece, whose long blonde hair keeps blowing in her face, is undisturbed by the clime.
I ask the 10-year-old what she thinks of San Diego’s squad, readying itself for the sophomore season of the Women’s United Soccer Association.
“They have a pretty tough practice,” she says, smiling shyly. “On the soccer team I play on, our practices are never this hard. We only run three sprints, and that’s it.”
Tough, indeed. During the last hour of practice, the players literally never stand still. They run during a short-field practice game. Coach Carlos Juarez interrupts the scrimmage just long enough to spread out the portable goal boxes. Then the team is off to the races, again. Once the formal practice is over, the team winds down by ... running sprints. And yes, the team runs many, many more sprints than apparently required in certain Yukon-based youth recreation leagues.
When Spirit practice ends, not a single player looks even close to being winded. Yeah, these women are tough. You can call it the Ponytail League if you like. Long, straight, bridled hair is in no short supply. But these are skilled—and in some cases, world-class—professional athletes.
So it’s only mildly surprising to hear Spirit team captain and WUSA goddess/ambassador/stateswoman Julie Foudy swear during practice. “C’mon, that’s bullshit,” she yells, after a play by a teammate that’s not to her liking. It brings to mind a televised WUSA game I saw last year featuring the Washington Freedom and iconic Mia Hamm. The camera was tight on Hamm as she mouthed to a referee, “Thanks, you really f---ed us on that goal!”
What, you’ve never cussed? Excepting perhaps the Pope and Mother Teresa—neither of whom has ever scored a goal in international play—even role models utter choice words now and again.
Salty language notwithstanding, female professional soccer players are emerging as athletes worth emulating by a new generation of young girls. Foudy, who was born 31 years ago in University City, recalls the time a group of kids recently chased her down the aisle of a Vons supermarket in La Jolla. Then the group got shy when they caught up to the raven-haired doughnut aficionado (she has an endorsement contract with Dunkin Donuts). “Their mom says, ‘I hope you understand what effect you have on their lives,’” says Foudy. “You can really see the reaction of the kids, and looks in their eyes.”
Of course, these are preteens, and Foudy says the most common questions she gets are along the lines of “What’s your favorite TV show?” “Movie?” “Color of nail polish?” The answers: Saturday Night Live. A tie between Austin Powers and Tommy Boy. Subtle red flesh tones, if ever.
Do you like what you read? Subscribe to San Diego Magazine »
