I lie in bed and look around the bare room that my host family has graciously allowed me to live in throughout the season. My bags are packed; all that is left is the familiar game of Tetris by which I will fit all of my belongings into the car. Somehow I have managed to minimize my possessions down to the shape of my Toyota’s interior. I’ll stash breakables in the glove compartment and center console. My driver’s side mirror will be the only way to see what’s happening behind me on the trip home. Which will be fine. It’s only a 12-hour drive.



As soccer players, we are constantly trying to get better through training, but no matter how much practice I get leaving for the offseason, the goodbyes never get easier. I hug the family that has hosted me for the last couple of seasons. They ask if I will be back, and I inject as much positivity into my answer as possible, but my words are vague because the truth is that I have no idea.



To say I...