The Keeper: A Life of Saving Goals and Achieving Them (30 page)

Jacob ran into the kitchen from outside. At nine, he’s already all limbs and angled muscles. “Hey, Dad. Can Jake sleep over tomorrow?”

Of course he could.

Then Trey came in. We clasped hands and came in for a friendly half hug.

Trey rumpled Ali’s hair. “Hey, Ali. Get that picture for your dad, will you?”

Ali ran over to the table and picked up a picture she’d made. It was done in Magic Marker: a green field, with a crisscross net at one end. There were two players on the field—stick figures with different color uniforms, a ball between them. The player in front of the goal was about to kick the ball. Above his head, she’d written the words
NO GOAL
. All over the sky, she’d added the words
USA! USA! USA!

“This one’s going on my refrigerator for sure,” I said.

And it did.

I
n August, the first-ever session of the Tim Howard NJCTS Leadership Academy kicked off in New Jersey. By then, I was already heading back to England.

I got updates about the Academy from my mom, from Faith, from people we knew in common.

Over four days, 23 kids with TS were led by eight coaches—all of whom also had TS. Later, Faith Rice described for me a single moment from the Academy—a five-minute period when 31 participants, both coaches and kids, all started having tics at the same time.

There was whirring and hooting and echoing and roaring. There was shoulder jerking and neck-rolling and eye-rolling. There were outbursts of laughter and yelps.

After a while, it began to feel like everyone was volleying their tics back and forth. The room was so loud, so fluttering with movement, that nobody could hear a word anyone was saying.

Faith looked around, at all these kids.
This
, she thought,
is the most glorious cacophony I have ever heard
.

She started laughing then—laughing about the absurdity of this disorder, and at the joy of seeing these kids be 100 percent themselves.

When the kids all noticed her cracking up, they burst out laughing, too.

I was happy for those kids, maybe even a little jealous. I wished that when I was a teenager I had been surrounded by people who understood me, who knew what I was going through. I wish we could have laughed together about our funny brains.

I
’ve gotten letters and emails from kids with TS for many years. I’ve read them all. Sometimes I can’t respond personally, but every one matters.

If I could sit down with all of them, I know exactly what I would say:

Trust yourself exactly as God made you. Let your tics pass over you without fear or shame. Let them lead you along your own extraordinary journey. It’s true what that doctor told my mother all those years ago: Tourette comes with its own beautiful flip side. It gives you gifts. Mine was soccer, goalkeeping. You have something, too.

The world will not always understand.

But your TS gives you a window into people’s hearts. You know, better than anyone, that what lies on people’s surface isn’t the thing that’s real and true about them.

Your brain is extraordinary. You are extraordinary.

Everything—I promise you, everything—is possible.

Poppa, my mother, and Momma, at home in Hungary, before they had to escape under cover of night.

With big brother Chris and my mom, looking sharp in our ’80s attire.

As a kid I hated sitting still. . . . I suspect I could barely sit still for this photo!

Chris was my fierce protector when I was young.

(Photos are courtesy of the author unless otherwise noted.)

As a child, I always stood head and shoulders above the other soccer players.

Being named one of the captains for the ’96 high school soccer season by my legendary coach, Stan Williston.

To my mom’s great relief, I managed to stay in school long enough to take this high school graduation photo!

Tim Mulqueen: the man who made me the keeper I am today. He’s been a coach, a mentor, and is now a dear friend.

(Brad Smith/isiphotos.com)

The dream started at the MetroStars! Here I am, 21 years old . . . with still so much to learn.

(Courtesy of Major League Soccer)

Meeting Sir Alex Ferguson for the first time . . . naively wearing Manchester City colors.