WOSO Imagines

The Call Up (Jessie Fleming)

(requested by @spammyvilla)

Growing up as the younger sibling of a golden girl was difficult. Anything I accomplished was compared to Emily. I got a B; she had gotten an A+ in the same class four years earlier. I made the varsity soccer team my sophomore year; Em had done it in 8th grade. I got an academic scholarship and an offer to play D2 soccer in Massachusetts; she got a scholarship to play D1 soccer at UVA. Nothing I did was ever good enough for my parents, so as soon as I turned 18, I left Georgia and never looked back.

I worked my ass off through college, earning a dual degree in sports management and psychology after being recruited to UCLA during my junior year. I captained the team to the Championship in my second year. Unfortunately, I was not drafted by the NWSL after graduation despite my killer season. Part of me wanted to quit soccer right then and there, but Jessie convinced me that it didn't mean the end of my career. With her help, I managed to catch the attention of a tier-2 club in England and, since she was signing for Chelsea, we moved over together.

After two seasons with the London City Lionesses, I managed to catch Chelsea's attention. The day I got my jersey, Hart 2 printed on the back, I broke down in Jessie's arms. I had finally climbed my way to the top and I had done it on my own. Part of me wondered if my family knew, if they had bothered to keep any tabs on me after my emancipation. I had had no contact with my parents or my sister for almost five years at this point, and the only time I regretted it was when I accomplished something great, and I couldn't rub it in their faces.

Now that I've spent two seasons at Chelsea and feel like I am at the top of my game, there is one more goal I'm working towards: a call-up to the USWNT.

"It'll happen soon, babe, I promise," Jessie would say on the many occasions I confided in her.

"Easy for you to say, miss debuted at 15," I'd always reply.

"I can't talk to you when you get all snarky."

"Then just kiss me and take my mind off it."

When Chelsea wins our fourth League title, I am over the moon. In the middle of cracking a cold one with Sam, one of the managers comes over to me and lets me know there's someone in the media room who needs to speak to me. Thinking it's just a post-match interview, I take my beer with me. What I'm not expecting is for Twila Kilgore, assistant coach of the US team, to be waiting for me.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth. Congratulations on the win," she says, shaking my hand.

"Uh, thank you. We worked really hard for it. I'm just glad I got some minutes in," I reply, hoping I don't look too confused.

"I know you'll want to celebrate with your team, so I'll honor your time and get straight to the point." She sounds very professional, and I start to sweat. "It's not very often that we find an American talent such as yourself who didn't come up through our system, but we've been keeping tabs on you since your title with UCLA and we're very impressed by how far you've come. That being said, we'd like to offer you a spot at our Senior team camp next week. If things go well, we're prepared to offer you a spot in the reserves for the World Cup in July."

My head is spinning, and I'm too stunned to speak. "You're serious?"

She nods.

"I'd be honored to. Yes!"

"Great. Someone will be in touch with all the information. You leave in two days. I look forward to seeing you play with the home team." She shakes my hand once more before disappearing, leaving me standing there in the media room alone to process.

I sit down on the floor, my back against the stage and chug the rest of my beer. I know I should get up and go back to my team, celebrate the win and say goodbye to Magda and P, but I'm too shocked. As I reminisce on the journey that got me here, tears of dual motivation roll down my cheeks. All of the joy and the heartache hits me in that moment. I've been able to play for the top team in England and now I'm being called up to play for my country, and I did it without the support of my family.