The Keeper: A Life of Saving Goals and Achieving Them (32 page)

Me and my pal Carlos after the last qualification game vs. Costa Rica, 2009. Thanks to the fan who threw me this hat!

(John Todd/isiphotos.com)

In our 2014 World Cup game against Portugal, I changed direction mid-dive to scoop Eder’s point-blank shot over the crossbar. It’s one of my all-time favorite saves.

(Elsa/Getty Images)

One of my 15 saves against Belgium.

(Yves Herman/Reuters/Corbis)

Brotherhood transcends even the toughest moments on the field: with Romelu Lukaku after the 2014 World Cup game against Belgium.

(Kieran McManus/isiphotos.com)

Tess and Paige Kowalski, two of the many incredible kids I’ve met with Tourette Syndrome.

(Courtesy of the Kowalski family)

Mom, Dad, and the kids sharing my proudest moment with me: my 100th cap for the U.S. national team.

I am calmest, most at peace, when my children are close.

I
t’s the start of a new season and I’m standing in the tunnel at Goodison Park ready to step on to the field.

Prayer for my kids.

Pray they’ll be safe. Pray they’ll know how much I love them.

The
Z-Cars
theme starts playing. It’s our cue to start walking out.

Don’t touch the HOME OF THE BLUES SIGN. Do touch the grass. Make a cross.

Seeing the home crowd again—all those crazies in Gladwys, all those blue scarves flying—I realize how long it feels since the last time I was here.

It’s the opening home game of the 2014–2015 season. Our opponents are Arsenal, the first team I’d ever played against in the Premier League. That was 11 years ago.

I’ve accomplished a lot since then, but I’m hardly done. I want this team to win some silverware while I’m here, something to cement my legacy in Everton soccer history.

For the past two decades, I’ve crisscrossed the world again and again, going straight from the pressure-cooker of the Premier League season into equally intense tournaments for the U.S. and back again. Over the summer, I made the tough decision to take a year off from playing for the national team. I have always believed that representing my country is a gift that’s not to be squandered.

But Ali and Jacob: they are gifts, too, and I’ve missed out on too much of their lives already.

I’m going to take care of myself. Keep working hard. Maybe, if all goes well, I’ll have one more World Cup in me. Maybe there will be a chance to take the U.S. to the quarterfinals.

But I’m beginning to envision a life beyond soccer. After Brazil, I signed a contract with NBC to broadcast Premier League games on television. Next week, I’ll be stepping into the broadcasting booth at Etihad Stadium to help call the Manchester City–Liverpool match.

Might I coach? It’s a tantalizing possibility, especially now that soccer seems to be making great strides in the U.S. The number of MLS teams has doubled since my MetroStars days; the league has been attracting high-level players from around the world—and losing fewer of our homegrown stars to Europe. MLS games now draw an average audience of 18,000—eclipsing figures for both the NBA and the NHL.

So maybe the MLS hasn’t seen the last of me.

Whatever I do, the paramount thing that will decide my future is time.

At some point, I want to wake up to an entire day—or week,
or month—during which I can be there for my kids, wholly and completely. I want to drive them to school and to soccer and basketball practice and to horseback riding lessons. I want to be that parent who’s at every game, cheering from the sidelines, as my kids—and my mom—have done for me.

I’m looking forward to making dinner for Jacob and Ali and their friends, Trey’s kids among them. I’ll flip burgers on the backyard grill while all the kids splash in the pool and the warm Memphis sun sets through the trees.

Every so often, maybe a friend of mine will visit—Carlos or Landon or Dan or Romelu or Mulch. We’ll crack open beers and talk about the good old days, distilling all those memories into a highlight reel: the glorious last-minute heroics, the clowning around in the locker room, those magnificent pileups after we’d scored. Never mind the long waits in airports, the endless bus rides, the bruised muscles and the constant fear of injury, the stomach-churning anticipation of the next day’s game, the families we couldn’t see for months on end. The bad memories will recede in time.

To the kids, we’ll sound like old guys going on about When We Were Young. Exactly.

After all that, we’ll go inside to catch a game on TV. On the way, maybe we’ll stop to look at my trophies, finally out of their boxes. Then we’ll sit around some more, cheering for whoever’s playing. Anyone, that is, but Liverpool or Mexico.

If this is what my future holds, it will be enough.

I don’t know if I’ll marry again. I can’t quite imagine how another person would fit into this tight-knit but unconventional extended family of ours—with the kids moving fluidly between Laura and Trey’s home and my own. If I can’t find the right person to embrace that life, I think I’ll be fine on my own.

This future I’m envisioning isn’t far away. But it’s not here yet. Right now I’m still on the field; the present is still in play. I take a few steps back and forth in goal, feeling the turf beneath my cleats. I look out to the stands, then back to the center circle, where a team in bright blue and a team in red take up their positions. I see Romelu and Kevin, and I think how nice it is to have them back on
my
side again.

Behind me, in Gladwys, someone shouts, “Come on, Blue Boys!” I make the final cross over my chest.

The whistle is about to blow.

W
riting a book requires, by necessity, selecting just a few stories while leaving others untold. My life has been filled with remarkable people, with whom I’ve shared extraordinary moments. I wish I could include all in these pages. If you’ve been a part of my life—if you’ve been among those who supported me and laughed with me and rooted for me—please know that you’re in my heart, even if you’re not in these pages.

I am the player I am because of the teammates I’ve had, both past and present. To my teammates on Everton and the U.S. National Team: You are my brothers, my fellow comrades, my friends. Thank you for giving me more incredible memories than one man deserves in his lifetime. Thank you, too, to my teammates on the MetroStars, the Imperials, and to all my youth and school teams . . . right down to the North Brunswick Recreation Rangers. My experiences with all of you helped shape me.

To fans of U.S. Soccer and Everton: you are the 12th man on that field, and we’d be nothing without you. Special thanks, too, to the American Outlaws, who helped America discover the beauty and thrill of this game. I really do believe that we will win.

To the entire Everton staff: you have truly become my family. Special thanks to Sue Palmer, Bill Ellaby, Paula Smith, David Harrison, Tony Sage, Danny Donachie, Darren Griffiths, Jimmy Comer, Richie Porter, Matt Connery, Robert Elstone, and Jimmy Martin. I’ll bleed blue for the rest of my life.

And most of all to Bill Kenwright: your faith in me continues to be an honor.

It’s been a privilege to represent my country on the world stage. I’m grateful to U.S. Soccer for giving me the opportunity and for
helping this New Jersey kid’s dreams come true. I’d like to offer a special debt of gratitude to Dan Perkins, Michael Kammerman, Ivan Pierra, Dr. George Chiampas, Jon Fleischman, Jessie Bignami, Andreas Hertzog. Also, Sunil Gulati, Dan Flynn, and Don Garber, and so many others at MLS and U.S. Soccer who work every day toward taking American soccer to new heights.

To Dan Segal, the most humble, practical, hard-working guy I know. You’ve had my back in this book, as you have everywhere else.

To Brendan Meyer, who does a great job managing my social media accounts, and to Casey Wasserman and the rest of the crew at Wasserman Media Group who have provided helpful support throughout my career.

To Daren Flitcroft and Allison Brill, thank you for your research, feedback, and insights.

To my assistant, Amber: without your hard work and dedication, my life would descend into chaos. Thank you, sincerely, for saving me from that fate.