NEW YORK — On a mild late-May morning in Manhattan, with the 2019 Women’s World Cup mere weeks away, I am standing in the most perilous position in global soccer: a couple feet from Tobin Heath.

Sure, some Eastern European ultras would disagree. So might the studs of Nigel De Jong. But there is no footballing fear more universal than that of the meg. No shame more abject and mortifying. And no player who has mastered the humiliating art more thoroughly than the Queen of Nutmeg herself, Tobinho.

There is no ball at her feet on the sixth floor of this chic Chelsea office building at U.S. women’s national team media day. But as I’ve learned, that isn’t exactly an impediment. Just ask Sam Mewis. She’ll flash back to July. To a USWNT practice. Players were moseying about. “Everyone’s standing with their legs closed,” Mewis recalls. “I literally had the ball in my possession.”

A split-second later, it was trickling back through her feet. Heath was prancing away in delight.

Uh, what? Sam, can you explain?

“Dude, no,” Mewis laughs, still dumbfounded. “I have no idea how it happened.”

Mewis is one of many victims, some of whom have been immortalized on highlight reels or in commercials, others spared by the sacredness of training. But the stories, whether supported by cameras or not, are endless. As a fearless 21-year-old, Heath debuted for the national team with a double-meg of unsuspecting Canadians. A decade later, in her penultimate tune-up for a third World Cup, she megged a New Zealand defender without even touching the ball.

Here it is, the Tobin Heath no-touch nutmeg, in all its glory pic.twitter.com/kRd4pvkKlT — Henry Bushnell (@HenryBushnell) May 17, 2019

The legend of the serial megger made me curious: How extensive is the list of victims? Does it include, say, family members?

“My mom, in the kitchen, all the time,” Heath says. “She never knew.”

How about animals?

“My dog.”

OK … inanimate objects?

“Yeah, chairs. All the time.”

A full list of casualties will never be compiled, in part because its sheer volume would break any server or operating system, or spill off any manuscript. Ask fellow USWNTers to recount the most ludicrous bit of skill they’ve ever seen Heath perform, and megs aren’t even the first that come to mind. “Like, nutmegs are great,” clarifies U.S. and Portland Thorns teammate Adrianna Franch. “But she does them all the time.”

Utter embarrassment is also an issue. Rose Lavelle admits she’s likely among the victims. But, she says, “I probably blacked out when it happened.”

A litmus test, I figured, would be coaches. The men and women on whom Heath has depended for playing time and mentorship over the years. Would she dare target them?

I phoned her college coach, the legendary Anson Dorrance, to find out.

“She holds the nutmeg record for her coach at the University of North Carolina,” Dorrance said, before I could even inquire. “And no one’s close.”

And as for Jill Ellis? Well, video evidence rendered the question unnecessary.

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Tobin Heath’s USWNT nutmegs

Emily Sonnett has a saying. She’s played with Heath for three-plus years now, for both club and country. “I don’t usually get megged,” she recites. “But when I do, it’s by Tobin Heath.”

Heath’s obsession with the meg developed early. Her favorite victim, she says, was her younger brother. At UNC, Dorrance says, she’d meg him “an average of three times a practice,” after team huddles, or from across the field.

Once she broke into the national team, though, casual pre-training kickabouts provided the perfect arena for her compulsion. She’ll wander discreetly, a ball almost always at her feet, her intentions disguised. Then she’ll pounce, anticipating strides or sneaking up from behind. Her strategic arsenal is bottomless. Any player or coach within range is at risk.

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