Fourteen years. For fourteen years, I was dedicated to the sport I loved. Fourteen years of practices, games, scrimmages, hell weeks, two-a-days, and traveling around the country and state to stress inducing club league games, state cups, and college showcases. Out of those fourteen years, I got about eleven years of unforgettable, cherished memories. I was so lucky to play the sport I loved on a competitive and successful team with some of the most talented soccer players and greatest people I've met. I learned work ethic, teamwork, and a special bond that forms when you experience the highest oh highs and lowest of lows in intense competition. Through this game, I got to travel the country with some of my best friends. From Hawaii to Florida and a lot of places in between, I experienced incredible places with incredible people. I do not regret dedicating so much of my life to a sport, and I am extremely thankful for the good times it brought. But, out of fourteen years, I should have had more than eleven years.

The unforgettable and cherished memories of my last three years of soccer were overshadowed by a coach that killed my passion. So here it goes, an open letter to the coach that made me a hate the sport I once loved:

Coach,

You took a player with natural talent and a lot of potential and a lot of passion, and killed it. You took what should be an outlet and a stress reliever and turned it into the cause of stress, anxiety, and self-doubt. You took a woman made confident through sports and turned her into someone who was always questioning whether or not she was good enough. You took a young, impressionable woman and made her mentally weak.

Not until after I had put in countless of hours with private lessons did I realize your promises of "just work harder" were empty. Not until after you had recruited other players to "motivate me" did I realize playing time was dictated by favoritism. Not until after I had worked up the courage to finally advocate for myself did I realize you would defensively resort to insults that followed me off the field.

You failed me big time. As our coach, your job wasn't just to be a fair and good coach, but to help develop our characters. Some weeks, we spent more time with you than our parents. We were fifteen years old. At some point, the goal moves past winning and towards making us good people. The thought of you still coaching young women is alarming to me. I hope you've realized your dual role as a coach and an influential person in a young woman's life.

I don't want to give you too much credit, though. A lot of deciding factors went into my decision of quitting soccer. But, I don't want you to think you're free of blame, either. Do you want to know your part? Before you were my coach, I loved this sport and had dreams of pursuing a collegiate athletic career. After a few years with you as my coach, I had quit something that I had dedicated fifteen years of my life to. So, you do the math.

Sincerely,

Not a collegiate soccer player but still doin' fine