When a Pandemic Ended My Athletic Career

Soccer has been a part of my life since I was four years old. As with most collegiate athletes my sport has been synonymous with me for practically my whole life. To see “Chloe” was to see a “soccer player”. It was as if the term Chloe and athlete were interchangeable - meaning the same thing. Soccer provided me with a vast array of experiences, both good and bad. I grew up with soccer. It was my therapy, my walking stick, my guide to life. No matter where I went, no matter what I was doing, I had soccer.

But when I think about my soccer career, the experience that resonates most loudly is how it ended: on March 11, 2020 in a soccer meeting in a small classroom on my college campus of my junior year. We were told to pack up our things and head home. The coronavirus pandemic had reached a new level of severity and for our safety, my teammates and I were required to clean out our dorm rooms and apartments and return to our homes for the remainder of the semester. It was a disappointment for sure, but we were assured that we would be back on campus by August to begin training camp for my senior season.

I trained long and hard that spring and summer in anticipation for my last season. I got the exciting news that because of my diligent work in my classes I was going to get to graduate a semester early in December. This meant I would get to play my final soccer season in the fall and walk at the end of semester. It was a win-win. I had meetings with coaches to talk about where they saw me playing and what to work on during the off season so I could come back better than ever for the final season of play. I was pumped. The time off had left me itching for the pitch and as August rolled around I found myself nervously excited, but ready. And then two weeks before our report date we received news that would pull the rug out from under me. We would not be returning for fall. Because of the restrictions in California regarding COVID-19, the fall season was going to be pushed back until spring.

The realization hit me square in the face. I was going to graduate before the season even began. I was going to be an alum of the school by the time our team would be allowed back on campus. And just like that, my therapy, my walking stick, my guide to life was ripped from my still clutching hands. With no warning I was suddenly thrust into a world where soccer no longer existed for me. I had always known the day would come where I would have to find my way without my safety blanket but I was supposed to have more time. More chances to make an impact. More time to say goodbye. More.

One phrase kept repeating itself over and over in my head: This isn’t fair.

Why me? I had worked so hard to get to my senior year! I had encountered so much hardship and adversity in my soccer career and to suddenly have it taken away without any recognition or acknowledgement? This. Wasn’t. Fair.

I wanted to be angry. I wanted to be angry at someone. Anyone. There had to be someone to blame. I turned to God, a massive heap of conflicted emotions and feelings, and demanded an answer. I demanded guidance. What was I supposed to do without my soccer? And I heard God say very clearly: Mourn. Cry. And trust that in the end, He had a plan.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-4 says, “There is a time for everything, and everything on earth has its special season. There is a time to be born and a time to die. There is a time to plant and a time to pull up plants. There is a time to kill and a time to heal. There is a time to destroy and a time to build. There is a time to cry and a time to laugh. There is a time to be sad and a time to dance.”

I did not like God’s answer to my troubles. He did not explain to me why this was happening. He did not tell me I was going to be okay without soccer. He did not give me some masterplan for my life now that athletics were done. No, He simply told me to grieve the loss of my season. To grieve the loss of games never played and shots never scored. To grieve never getting to live with my roommates again and never getting to feel the rush of adrenaline after a clean tackle. He told me to feel all the horrible, gut-wrenching feelings that made me think if I let them in, I would never recover. I was certain that if I started crying I would never stop. But that’s what God asked me to do. To cry. And to trust that even in the middle of pain and loss, He was still good.

And so I write this in the middle of my grief. I have not made it through the tunnel, but I am starting to see the light. As athletes I feel we are often told that succumbing to pain is a negative thing. To give into our pain and admit we can’t keep going is a hard place to be and so often we are told to suck it up and keep moving forward. We are proud of our ability to push through discomfort and injury and still make it through the game. But the Bible tells us there is a time for everything. A time to push on and fight and a time to sit in our pain and grief and admit we are hurting.

So many of us have lost things this past season. And it is okay to not be okay in the middle of it. God can handle your pain. God can handle your sorrow and grief. And I promise if you are willing to give in and mourn, God will meet you in the middle of your grief. Because the Bible promises there is a time to cry but there is also a time to laugh. If we let God have our grief, He will walk with us in our sadness until someday we walk out into the light and God leads us into a new season. One of joy and dancing.

Chloe Edwards

Hi my name is Chloe Edwards and I am a former college soccer player! I am from Southern California and I played at Cal State University, Northridge and Azusa Pacific University. I graduated in December with my bachelors in English and I am undergoing the tedious task of applying to law school at the moment! I love reading, writing, debating (duh future lawyer over here), working out (unless it involves running lol), and spending time with my people!