Dear Older Forrest,

I'm writing this letter to you as a reminder as to why you play the game.

For as long as I can remember, you always had a unique love for the game. It wasn’t just the game itself that made it so special to you, but it was the reach the game had on everything and everyone else in your life.

You started playing right after you learned to walk. You loved having the ball at your feet. It wasn’t only new to you, but it was also new to your parents considering they didn’t grow up playing.

For a while, soccer was more so an activity for you. Your parents signed you up for a local rec team and, considering all the headers you took in your career, there’s a good chance you won’t remember this, but you weren’t always a center back. In fact, you first started as a center forward, scoring goals week after week.

Soccer was also seasonal for you. You played soccer in the fall, but the other seasons were meant for basketball and tee-ball. Looking back on it now, if you would’ve known you were going to be 6-foot-6, you probably would’ve taken basketball more seriously.

As you started to grow up, the game found its way to the feet of your siblings. Being only 18 months apart meant that while you were on different teams, soccer was still competitive between you and Cullen. You’d get home from school and immediately head to the backyard to start kicking around where y’all would envision yourselves as some of the best players in the world.