Abby Wambach - WOLFPACK: How to Come Together, Unleash Our Power, and Change the Game

Imagine that youve been asked to give a commencement address at one of the premier womens colleges in the nation. Youve got fifteen minutes to stand behind a podium in a fancy robe and tell hundreds of brilliant young people everything you know about:

What makes a good life,

What makes a beautiful world, and

How to build both.

Would it make you stop and think hard about what you believe?

Would it make you feel overwhelmed and underqualified?

Might it even lead you to sweat profusely and wonder if a person who hasnt even graduated from college should really give a commencement speech?

(Maybe that last worry was uniquely mine.)

Shortly after my retirement from soccer, I was asked to deliver such a commencement address at Radio City Music Hall to Barnard Colleges 126th graduating class.

The invitation said:

We are awed by your talents on the field, but we are also moved by your commitment to issues like gender equality, pay inequity and gay rights. Our seniors would be thrilled to have you address them at this watershed moment in their lives.

I sat on my couch, read those words twice, and then grabbed my phone and Googled: watershed moment. (FYI: It means turning point; historic moment.)

Then I thought:

Ok.

They dont want me to speak as just an athlete.

They want me to speak as an activist, a feminist, a leader.

At one of the most important moments in their lives.

No pressure.

The invitation went on to say:

Former Barnard speakers have included: Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, Samantha Power, Sheryl Sandberg, Cecile Richards and Meryl Streep.

NBD, I thought. (FYI: For readers over forty, that means No Big Deal.)

Since my retirement, I had been traveling and speaking to people all over the world as a famous athlete. I spoke about my personal life, my time on the field, and how to win championships.

I was a decorated soccer champion.

Id scored more international goals than any woman or man in history.

Id won two Olympic gold medals and a FIFA World Cup championship.

That stuff was cool. But since I was a kid, what I loved most about soccer wasnt collecting individual stats or even wins.

I loved winning and losing as ONE team.

I loved being a part of something bigger than myself.

I loved the shared joy, suffering, failure, and success.

I loved the magic of collectively surrendering to an unknown outcome.

I loved the intimacy of our team dinners, bus rides, and stinky locker rooms.

I loved how my teammates and I cared for each other, fought for each other, and respected each otherno matter what.

What I loved most about soccer was being a teammate to women and a leader of women.

As the co-captain of the United States womens national soccer team, I was charged with uniting twenty-three womeneach of whom had achieved success because of her individual talentand inspiring each to commit to the collective. With the help of my teammates, I created a team culture based on more than just excellence. We not only won, we won with joy, honor, connectedness, commitment, and sisterhood. We were not only champions on the fieldwe were champions of each other. Our time on the U.S. Womens National Team turned us into more than just winners. We turned each other into better friends, citizens, and human beings.

The greatest loss of my retirement was losing my team. I missed the unique connection that is forged among a group of women working toward a collective goal. But as I sat and looked at that invitation, I had this thought:

What if my time on the national team was just practice for a bigger game?

What if I could find a way to translate our teams culture to more women?

What if my new team was All Women Everywhere?

The Barnard women would enter Radio City Music Hall as college students and leave as adults.

What if I entered as Abby, a leader of women on the soccer field, and left as Abby, a leader of women in the world?

I was scaredbut I said yes to Barnard anyway.

I said yes for those women, but also for myself. The Barnard women werent the only ones stepping off into an unknown future, reinventing themselves, trying to find their way in the world. I was right there with them. This speech would be a watershed moment for me, too.

First, though, I had to actually write the damn thing.

There was a moment in every soccer game when Id feel the energy shift toward me. Whether it was a morale boost, a momentum swing, or a goal that we neededit was my job to make it happen. When I felt that shift, Id say silently to myself:

Lets go, Abby. Its your time.

As I sat down to prepare my speech, thats what I told myself. I needed this rally cry, because it was a vital and intimidating time in our country to speak for and to women.

The nation was as divided as Ive ever known it to be.

White supremacy and misogyny were being legitimized and celebrated at the highest levels of government.

The backlash against progress toward equal justice for all was swift and painful.

The landscape of America was overrun with archaic ways of thinking about gender, race, sexuality, rich and poor, and the environment. Many were angry, and others were numb. Apathy was setting in; effecting any real change felt daunting. It may have felt impossible, even.

Unless, of course, you dont believe in impossible because this has been the lesson of your life: A team of women who unite for a larger goal can achieve the impossible again and again.

As I focused on what I wanted to share with the women of Barnarda directive to unleash their individuality, unite the collective, and change the landscapemy thoughts turned to a TED Talk Id watched recently about the wolves of Yellowstone National Park.