WOSO Imagines

On Your Side (Caroline Graham Hansen)

I groan in frustration as the final whistle blows. Norway went an entire game without a single goal. For the second time in this tournament, they had underperformed. Something was off. The usual connectivity and strength in the midfield is lacking and I can't help but think it has to do with the problems in camp. They just can't seem to find their rhythm.

I inch my way closer to the front, politely excusing myself as I push through Norway and Switzerland fans alike.

"Bit of a disappointment from Graham Hansen today, eh?" someone shouts at me, probably taking notice of the name on the back of my kit.

"Could've done more if she was starting and not being punished for speaking her mind," I mutter under my breath, ignoring the fan.

When I get to the railing, I scan the pitch, looking for her. She stands among the red and white jerseys, clinging to her Barcelona teammate. My heart breaks when I catch a glimpse of the look on her face. I let her have a moment, instead searching for my friend.

"Ingrid!" I call, waving at the tall midfielder.

She jogs over to me and the fans around us cheer for her. "Hey, Laura."

I lean over the railing to talk to her. "I can't believe she benched you. I thought having a female coach would mean more empathy and a healthier environment. You should've won against New Zealand, and you definitely should've won this game, but from what I've heard, management cares more about keeping full control than improving play."

"One would think. I'm glad you came, it's nice to have a friendly face in the crowd." I can tell by her tone that she's missing Mapi.

I reach over the barrier to ruffle her hair. "She's cheering you on from home, and she would be so proud of you, Ingrid. If you want to talk, I'm here for the whole tournament."

She smiles slightly. "How much is your hourly rate, again?"

"For you, $20 an hour," I tease, winking at her. "I'm kidding."

She rolls her eyes. "I still don't know why you didn't accept Barca's offer."

"It would've been unethical of me to be the team therapist considering I was dating one of the players. You know that."

"You guys were dating before she transferred."

"Very grey area."

"Could've gone to the men's team."

"You know I prefer women."

She smirks.

"I walked right into that one," I chuckle. "I just mean that I feel better equipped to help female athletes, especially considering they aren't provided mental health support."

While playing in the Norwegian league as a teenager, I pursued a degree in sports management and psychology. When I graduated, I realized I didn't have the passion to play professionally anymore, so at the age of 23, I retired from football and applied for as many internships as I could find. Eventually, I landed one in Germany with Wolfsburg's men's side. It was through that internship that I realized I wanted to focus on advocating for female footballers, having experienced the mental abuse from coaches during my time with Rosenborg, and having a front row seat to how much effort was put into supporting the male players. The men had two fulltime counselors and an intern, while the women had one part-timer. It's also how I met Caro.

"And that's why you're my favorite person," Ingrid says. "Always helping others."

I blush at her compliment. "I do what I can."

A younger girl asks Ingrid to sign her shirt, and I take the opportunity to look for my girlfriend again. She's still with Ana, taking comfort in each other. The Swiss woman spots me first, whispering in Caro's ear. She glances at me and starts to make her way over, her teammates clapping her on the shoulder as she passes. She just gives a nod, but I can tell even from ten yards away that she's beating herself up.