Attached - Mallory Pugh/USWNT

Chapter 1

As a kid, I remember when I would go to my grandma's house at least once a month. It wasn't far, just about an hour away. 

My Mimi was from France, so she loved watching soccer almost as much as she loved her family. She would always take my sister Lena and I, since we could never get enough. If we were lucky, we could get my oldest sister Chloe to come too.  

Those fields are where I learned all my game knowledge. I would listen to Mimi explain it in her thick French accent, often forgetting English words, forcing me to become better at French. I never questioned why she sounded different, or why she didn't speak English well. My mom and grandfather were the same way, so it was all normal to me. 

When she bought me a soccer ball for Christmas, my parents finally signed me up to play. I got bored of recreational soccer after about two games, so they looked into something more. 

As I got older, soccer continued to be everything to me. I found myself being a good basketball player as well, but soccer always took precedent. 

By the time I was 12, I was absolutely untouchable. There was only one girl in the area who could even dream of taking me on without humiliation. 

The thing about it was, she was on my club team. We played for different development teams, but we were with the same club. 

I can't say I like to think about it much. All I really know is how much I really hated her. Looking back on it, I had really no reason to hate her as much as I did. But to this day, I still resent her for all the times she made me look bad. 

I hate Mallory Pugh. 

She drove me nuts, maybe because she was the only person who could match me, and I wanted to be unmatched. I couldn't outwork her no matter how hard I tried. The hatred I had was a driving force for me to work harder, but somehow, no matter how many endless hours I put into it, I always felt outworked. 

When I'd tell my mom, she'd laugh at me and say almost the same thing every time, almost always saying it in French. It was usually something along the lines of; "Morgana, you don't hate her. You feel intimidated. You don't want her to be better than you. But if you'd take that stick out of your ass and just be nice, you two could make a great team." 

I told my dad as well, and he would tell me pretty much the same thing, just the English version.  

But my mom would continue to tell me every single day. 

"Just give her a chance. She's probably a very nice girl. Her parents have always been very kind." I'd just roll my eyes and if I chose to say something, she'd make me repeat it back to her in French. I spoke it very well, because my mom and grandparents were all from France. My grandparents on my dad's side were also French, so that side of the family spoke it as well, including my dad, who was born in America.  

The only thing I liked about Mallory Pugh was the fact that she could NOT understand French for the life of her, so I could say whatever to her and she wouldn't understand. I'd never speak directly to her, but I often talked under my breath but loud enough for her to hear. She'd think it was a compliment somehow, so she'd smile at me or say 'good job to you too!' or something dumb like that. 

I do think she thought I spoke broken English for quite some time, because when I was around her, I spoke mostly in French. She seemed a bit shocked the first time she heard me speak perfectly fine English in high school. 

All I ever cared about was soccer. I wanted to make it to the USWNT, I wanted to be the best in the world. I always wanted to get there faster than her. 

But that didn't end up happening. She got to play for the USWNT when she was 17. Like the full team, against the best players in the world. Not the U-20 team, or the U-23 squad. I played for the U-23's for the past two years, and I'm 19 now and over it. I wish they would realize that I need to be moved up, because a hatrick every game isn't normal. I shouldn't be able to beat four defenders and go to goal. It's time for me to be done here, and go there. 

And no, I'm not trying to say I'm the best player in the world, it's not like that. There's so many that are SO much better, like Carli Lloyd, Sam Kerr, Alex Morgan, Alexia Putellas. And I bet anyone on that national team could beat me. I'm just a bit bored here, and I'm not improving. 

For me, the next step is making it to the USWNT. But even then, I won't be satisfied until I'm better than she is.