Swarthmore Soccer senior Isa Specchierla reflects on her time with the team
During this past Winter Break, 30 minutes into playing in a Sunday adult league pick-up game (as a washed-up, now-retired senior collegiate athlete does), I was hit with an overwhelming and foreign sense of melancholy. I had the urge to pack up and drive home.
This feeling was just as unsettling as it was new. Soccer has been central to my identity and a source of happiness in my life for so long. I realized I was not alone in this feeling after speaking with a fellow senior teammate, who told me she cried on the way home from a pickup game over break. Playing with strangers during the off-season in college was always just this temporary thing — I always had my team to return to. After my final season playing for Swarthmore soccer, I was confronted with the permanence of no longer experiencing the communal joy of celebrating successes together or sharing jokes about mistakes after practice. I realized how integral these moments were to my soccer experience and what a privilege it is to miss that.
It is also strange not having something to train for. This was the first break that I hadn’t trained double days, going to the field at 6 a.m. and the gym at night. I was faced with the duality of missing the grind, but also the freedom from the stress of not living up to my fullest potential for both myself and my teammates. It’s liberating and lonely at the same time.
Every one of the seniors has returned for the spring season practice, which — given that it’s optional — has never happened before in my four years at Swarthmore. I’m grateful to be a part of a senior class that shares love for both the team and the sport, which hasn’t always been the case for me. Growing up, club soccer was never a welcoming experience. I played the sport simply for the passion of the game, and my relationships off the field were little to nonexistent. Being part of the Swarthmore women’s soccer team was the first time I felt what it meant to play alongside such talented athletes who I also get to call my best friends.
The respect and love we have for one another go much deeper than who we are as players on the field. It’s the shared meals, studying together, nights when almost all 32 of us are in the women’s soccer NPPR apartment, and the not-so-fun crying moments, made a little better by knowing that someone will always be there. I do not doubt that the incredible talent on this team is the reason for our success this past season (making it to the Round of 16 in the NCAA tournament), but I also believe the team culture was equally responsible.
For me, being a part of this team is so much more than minutes on the field. Throughout my four years here, I have dealt with many injuries and one very chronic one that has unfortunately impacted all of my collegiate athletic career. Much of my time was spent in the training room doing rehab, watching practices and games from the sidelines, and not playing my sophomore season. As any athlete would know, starting the recovery process repeatedly after each injury is heartbreaking. Truthfully, I never fully recovered — I just constantly found ways to play despite the pain.
These physical setbacks taught me so many valuable lessons that ended up shaping my experience for the better. I learned to shift my mindset, choosing to focus on how I could most contribute to the team given my unpredictable, physical circumstances. Playing any number of minutes was a gift. The ability to play without pain was a gift. I became more present in every practice, leading with gratitude for the opportunity to play at the level my younger self had always dreamed of, alongside teammates whose passion, dedication, and skill I deeply admire. Getting to celebrate and support every teammate who stepped onto the field became so much more important to me because I knew how much work they put in to play.
It is easy to get caught up in personal statistics and minutes and let that define my career. Yet looking back, being there for the team, consistently showing up, and pushing myself as far as my body would let me, still allowed me to find fulfillment in my career journey. My coach once told me he was impressed by my drive to keep playing the sport despite so many injuries. This comment surprised me, as I had never considered this a possibility or questioned whether I would continue to play after each injury.
And this is why — now, as I gradually accept my new post-grad life of solo gym sessions, adult pickup leagues, and hot yoga classes — when my teammates ask me if I’ll be joining them at practice this spring, the answer will always be yes.
