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A Proud Father and His Daughters Celebrate The Ultimate Role Models

by David P. Hillgrove (copyright 1999)

-first appeared in Soccer Magazine, ISSN 1070-9754, Titusville, Fla.

This summer was a most extraordinatry time for soccer fans, especially fans of women's soccer. Presently at my feet are copies of Time, Newsweek, People and several soccer magazines, all featuring the US Women World Champions on their covers.

Millions have enjoyed these marvelous personalities on the likes of The David Letterman Show, The Tonight Show , and network morning news shows. They exude class, determination, and fitness. With the exception of the "Great Chastain Disrobing,", these women have earned their place in American hearts because of their athletic powess. They are America's darlings, and despite the fact that they were bumped off the front page by the tragic loss of JFK Jr., they've had a tremdendous run.

There is good reason for this. And believe me, they have paid their dues.

Many times over.

Let me share my family's experience. I stood in awe of the scene at Jack Kent Cooke stadium with one of my three daughters during the US-Germany quarterfinal (won by the US, 3-2, after falling behind twice), some two weeks before the 1999 Final in California..

It was a remarkable sporting event and it was happening to the likes of Mia, Michelle, Joy, Kristine, Brandi, Carla, and several other long-term veterans. Even President Clinton attended, although he was twice booed resoundingly when his mug appeared on the Big Screen.

While these girls were for many the best-kept secret in contemporary sports, their road to this Women's World Cup had hardly been bumpless nor pain free.

For many years, this team was acknowledged as good, yet ignored as insignificant. They returned to the US with a world championship in 1991, earned in China, yet only a handful of journalists cared enough to interview them, upon their New York arrival.

They worked the crowds at every game, signing autographs without complaint for hours. They sat for endless embarrassing and ridiculous questions from media folks clueless in their approach to the game. They were all but snubbed during the 1996 Olympics by NBC.

Continuously—I observed for eight years—they stuck to their goal without concern for public reaction.

Little doubt that on July 10 (at the World Cup Final vs. China) they achieved far more than they had ever dreamed.

I had suffered somewhat along with them. As the owner of a small regional soccer publication, I had sunk thousands of dollars in travel and printing fees to promote the game, especially the women's game. I have seen them play live over half a dozen times, interviewing several of them. I have witnessed training sessions and innocent knock-arounds with interested adult female amateurs. I've sat at tables with some of them at National Soccer Coaches Association of America meetings and state conventions. I've requested multiple magazines autographed for cancer fundraisers, and watched as they dedicated themselves to one worthy cause after another. I provided players with complimentary photographs (including one of a 1999 starter getting red-carded!). My children took great delight in having met many of them. I've corresponded with many of them via e-mail.

This journey of theirs was no secret to me. I lived vicariously through them sometimes. I never suspected how deeply all of this would "hit home". I wasn't prepared to learn that this now-famous women would impact the lives of my family.

Nonetheless, the emotion I felt on that July night in DC (at the Quarterfinal match-up, vs. Germany) was unexpected. One would think that I'd try to "pull rank" on the average fan (name dropping, telling stories and tales0, given the history I had with them. Heck, that's normal thinking for me most of the time. But my mind ran on many different levels that glorious evening of live national team soccer.

I was amazed at the 54,000 folks who would gather to watch women—any women—play soccer near DC. I was overjoyed that so many had gotten into the spirit of the affair with their dress, flags and signs, exuberance, andpainted faces. I loved to watch the men who brought them to the game.

I was moved at the level of emotion showered onto these longtime heroes of mine.

I was intrigued with an emotion that left me thunderstruck. More than feeling happiness for these women who deserved all of the accolades, I felt joy for my own daughters.

We—my wife Dorothy and I—have three of them, and I literally felt ecstasy for their futures.

They no longer had to travel uncharted territories. A new trail had been blazed for my three gals. If sports were to be their destiny, no longer would they need to aspire to a career in gymnastics, ice skating, or some other standard sexy event. Their children would have even better opportunities, me-thinks.

No longer should they feel that cheerleading was going to be the closest thing they'd ever get to high level athletic events.

No longer did we have to search for real life role models who could be beautiful, talented, incredibly athletic, tenacious, and competitive. We had them right here and they were very mainstream, the world's best kept secret.

Now my daughters could fully understand that competitiveness and friendship is something that can coexist on any team.

My daughters' grandmothers had very few career choices. Their mother fought as hard as any to overcome bone-headed thinking and stereotypical prejudices.

My girls, if not for the very actions we witnessed during the televised championship match, could now imagine a world where our women did something that our men have had no chance at accomplishing. They became World Champions for the second time.

With huge expectations and incredible media commitments, 20 American women showed an entire gender and an entire generation the meaning of teamwork. The definitive no-excuses work ethic. The rewards of discipline and the joy of victory. No apologies for winning.

"Anything you can do, I can do better."

It's a challenge for today's fathers to communicate effectively with their daughters. Somehow we must teach them they needn't be perfect, nor seek "perfect" figures or "perfect" relationships. When things make an unexpected turn for the worse, fathers must convince daughters that perseverance is more important than image.

Fathers have a hard time teaching girls everything they think they should learn. It's knuckleheadness and it's a guy thing, but we can't find that perfect mixture between June Cleaver and Julia Roberts, so we fumble around a lot and try to teach them through kindness, perhaps.

Teaching toughness is something altogether different.

In one afternoon of championship soccer on live TV, Elizabeth, Christine, and Katie learned more about life than I can babble on about for days. They had watched these women's lessons for years, but they observed that the rewards came oh so sweetly. And this time there were no conversions from one sex to another necessary. This time their teachers were women, winning in our world's favorite sport.

Thanks from this Dad.

by David P. Hillgrove (copyright 1999)

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