There’s one version of an athlete’s senior year that often receives a considerable amount of attention. It’s the one where athletes commit to colleges, take photos in front of banners and post captions about “the next four.” That version is the one most emphasized and celebrated. Within it, a clear, defined moment exists where everything transitions into a new chapter.
But that was far from my experience. My senior year didn’t come with a commitment post or a defined next step, which made the end of my soccer career feel far less clean-cut.
I had a senior night, don’t get me wrong. But it felt more like a recognition of everything that had happened up until that point, rather than a sign that it was all coming to a close. Alongside my family, I listened to everything my teammates and coaches had to say about the years I spent in the Los Altos High School girls soccer program. My fellow seniors shed tears, a cake was cut and personalized gift baskets were handed out. The game itself felt the same as any other game, and I didn’t really process my senior night as an ending.
The actual ending came later on, and it didn’t feel very definitive at all.
After our season-ending game the following week, I drove home the same route I always did, thinking about everything else on my to-do list. After finishing my homework, I went to sleep, treating it like any ordinary night.
The next morning, however, it suddenly occurred to me that I had nothing scheduled that afternoon. For the first time in 12 years, I didn’t have practice. I no longer had to center my day around anything related to soccer. I was free. Right?
The shift in my schedule felt incredibly significant. Significant and wrong.
Since I was 5 years old, my routine revolved heavily around practices, games and everything that came with being part of a team. I allowed it to consume me. In fact, I devoted hours outside of school, managing my time in a way that left little room for anything else. Weekday afternoons were spent at practice, often running late into the night, while weekends were reserved for games.
In the absence of such a structure, my schedule felt foreign. I don’t think I realized how much of my identity existed in my sport, until that structure was gone entirely.
Even though I knew my youth sports career wouldn’t last forever, the ending still felt abrupt — so abrupt that I still find myself searching for closure.
At the same time, I’m aware that this isn’t a unique experience.
The majority of high school athletes don’t play in college, and even for those who could, not everyone wants to continue at that level. But that doesn’t necessarily change what our last high school season feels like at the moment, especially when years of time and energy have gone into a sport that is no longer part of daily life.
For me, the most difficult part was losing the sense of purpose that came with it, rather than the absence of the routine itself. I had gotten used to working toward something consistently, whether that was improving individually or contributing to a team; without that, it took a considerable amount of time to figure out what could substitute that void. I even missed the physically exhausting and mentally draining aspects of the game, because they provided challenges and objectives that I hadn’t fully appreciated before.
That said, this ending doesn’t stop my entire future involvement in sports. I plan on participating in club soccer in college, as well as exploring new intramural sports. And for those who find themselves relating to my experiences, the end of one chapter does not mean the whole story is over.
There are several ways to stay involved. It can happen through club or intramural sports, coaching or simply playing in a less competitive environment, and I’ve accepted that continuing to enjoy a sport doesn’t have to look the same as it did before.
Needless to say, stepping away is also a valid choice, especially after years of commitment and the desire for a fresh start. After all, the value of playing a sport at any level isn’t nearly defined by whether or not it continues after your high school years.
As I see it, the true value came from the relationships and mental strength I developed, even if it didn’t lead to a clear-cut “next step.”
If anything, my 12-year-long soccer career just made me realize how much those experiences mattered in shaping who I am today — while understanding this “ending” doesn’t have to be an ending at all.
