I Was Going to Play in the World Cup (and why being unrealistic pays off)

When I was nine years old, I knew I was going to play in the World Cup. 

I had the right Nike socks, had ordered a replica US Women’s Soccer Team jersey, and had perfected my signature for the fans that would call my name.  I knew the statistics of my future teammates, was confident I’d get along well with my coach, and was simply just waiting until I got my braces off and could drive a car before I joined the team.

I didn't put down the dreams of anyone else, for all I knew or cared, 95 people could be on the team.

I was just going to be one of them.

I had a plan.  I was going to play on my state team until I was about 16 before being recruited out of high school for the University of North Carolina.  I looked good in that light blue color so the uniform would work well. 

From there I’d split my time between the National team and my college squad.  There were a couple players that also did this so they could help me with traveling and scheduling details- JetBlue or SouthWest? Yup, definitely arranging a quick meeting with them.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to be sponsored by Adidas or Nike- my favorite player was sponsored by Adidas but that swoosh was just really classy.  Maybe I could sign with both?

Powerade or Gatorade endorsement? These choices were tough but I knew my agent could help me with them.

I was, of course, realistic about my role on the team- I wasn't going to be the leading goal scorer; I was going to be admired for my endurance, consistency, and comic relief on the bench and in the locker room.  I practiced some jokes I’d tell Mia Hamm and was confident I'd break her out of the shy shell she was known for.

I believed I was going to be on the World Cup team as much as I believed I was Courtney Cronin.

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I smile, writing this as a 26 year old and think fondly of the confidence I rocked as an adolescent. 

Somewhere down the line I became a bit more realistic. 

I acknowledged that life unfolds in ways that are not always in my hands and that my path may have twists and turns unplanned.  I found that the everyday details of life are actually a bit difficult to accomplish- dishes need to be done, bills need to be paid, college courses need attending, cars need gas, health insurance doesn't just come with adulthood, and groceries are bought by the person that wants to eat them.  And there was, of course, the fact that I wasn't that good at soccer.

If I had told the nine year old Courtney this, she would've rolled her glitter covered eyes and said, “Yaaa..So?”

As we grow older we’re told in many different ways to be realistic.  There are things that need to be done in life and HERE IS HOW YOU DO THEM.  That way won’t work, do it this way.  You could try that but, no. 

Realistic plans are admirable and we congratulate those who accomplish them.  To be successful is to have an achievable goal and a plan to get there.

I agree with many aspects of this notion.  A fuzzy dream is just a vision, a fantasy to entertain.  One has to have clear steps to success and the means to get there.

But where is the fun in these adult dreams if we don’t have that childlike confidence?  Far too often we limit ourselves because of the reality we’re trained to acknowledge.  Why dream when life is busy enough?

I think the combination of these two perspectives- clear plans with childlike expectations, can create a life of wonder, joy, creativity, and success.  I encourage us all to be a little unrealistic, to trust we can.  A simple, definitive belief known so well in childhood and often forgotten as adults.  Dreams may change but the approach we have towards them should not.

I think I may slap on some sneaks today and run around a field like a child.  I’ll smile and laugh, I’ll plan and wonder.  I’ll believe and trust.  I’ll be a little less adult and a lot more Courtney. 

Here’s to big dreams, big faith, and a big life.

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