SAN DIEGO — Last week, I tossed out my plans to be in Washington D.C. for a different NWSL match and booked a last-minute flight to San Diego. I then stood on the field at Snapdragon Stadium, staring through my camera lens at Alex Morgan, the athlete, one more time. I watched every microexpression flicker past, every smile, every time she blinked back tears, and the times she failed to. I pressed the button every time something felt like it could somehow capture the magnitude of the moment, yards away but able to compress the distance between us simply with a twist of the lens.
There was distance too — there had to be — between Alex Morgan, the image, and Alex Morgan, the human.
When Morgan stepped off the pitch in her socks on Sunday, boots in hand, it had only been three days since she had announced her retirement from professional soccer at age 35.
The lack of notice and Morgan’s lengthy video explaining her decision, announcing that she and husband Servando Carrasco are expecting their second child, meant there would be no long farewell tour. Fans would only have days, not months, to contemplate what women’s soccer would look like without Morgan on the field.
Her abrupt retirement set off a scramble, all the emotions of sending off one of the game’s best, grappling to define a legacy — or better yet, the first act. Morgan isn’t going too far, the same way most of her generation of women’s soccer players haven’t either. They are builders. Fighters. Morgan is no different, and she is ready to invest in Act Two.
Morgan in her final game (Meg Linehan/The Athletic)
Morgan was excellent at curating what she presented, and why, for over a decade. She came into the game right as social media changed how people interacted with women’s soccer, from the then-niche #WPSChat to Twitter, then Instagram, then TikTok, allowing players to tell their own stories. A weekly online chat with topics feels quaint now women’s soccer has finally begun to crack mainstream culture (outside of World Cup bumps) over the past few years. Before all that happened, Morgan was the one who had broken through the most.
Part of this was because she, in many ways, fit a stereotypical mold, a pretty, white, ‘girl next door’ who could bang in goals and sell Nikes. But what has made Morgan so fascinating to watch over the past decade was how she wielded that particular image; the way she could stockpile goodwill, recognition and power, then deploy them in pursuit of equal pay, better working conditions and player protections across country and club.
Morgan wasn’t just an image or a mouthpiece for labor-related fights. She dug into policy work and organizing across both the USWNT and NWSL players’ associations. She knew the power of her platform, her image, her name, and how to extend it to others. She knew when to step back, when to step forward, when to stand side-by-side with someone. When Mana Shim and Sinead Farrelly shared their stories of abuse suffered in the NWSL, Morgan put her name on her quotes — not just because she knew that she would be unlikely to suffer retaliation, but because she knew she could help to amplify their voices.
On Sunday, Shim was with Morgan’s family watching her final moments on the field. On the opposite coast only a few hours before, Gotham FC honored Farrelly for her retirement — also out of her own hands, due to the cumulative impact of head injuries sustained throughout her career.
GO DEEPER
Sinead Farrelly retires: ‘I want to share how positive this ending has been’
It was fitting that these three be tied together, one more time.
“It’s just incredible what you can do when you listen to players, when you value players, when you pay players, when players have autonomy over where they want to live and what team they want to play for. The longevity of our careers grows with all of what I just named, and Sinead was a pivotal piece in that,” Morgan said in her post-game press conference on Sunday. “So to share the same retirement date with her, because although we have very different journeys, we fought for the same thing, and the league is in a better place because of her.”
That’s not to say Morgan was all business all the time.
Morgan was sneaky good at being online without actually being online. She knew when a post pointing out an issue could have an impact and she didn’t mind embracing a meme or two. (Did she ever fully come around on the ‘Baby Horse’ nickname? Probably not, but she also ate carrots and fed an actual baby horse on camera for U.S. Soccer content, so there was at least a begrudging acceptance.) And no one enjoyed the challenge of figuring out how many drinks could fit into a new trophy more.
(Meg Linehan/The Athletic)
But be the face of anything, and there’s bound to be consequences.
In her farewell speech, Morgan thanked fans for criticizing her. For years, teams sold tickets off Morgan’s fame, and it worked — to the chagrin of fans of her opponents at times. She could kick up entire news cycles by deciding to play overseas as people questioned what it meant for the NWSL, first with Lyon in France then a brief stint with Tottenham Hotspur during the height of the pandemic. (As we found out, it meant little for NWSL, but Spurs players did wind up with better training conditions thanks to Morgan.)
While Morgan wasn’t alone in getting deals and building a following, she was one of the best.
Fortunately for Morgan, she was also pretty good at soccer. Some of her best memories, she said before the game on Friday, were from winning. Winning offered a respite from the weight of the work.
“You’re on auto drive. Like you feel when you have the blinders on and you’re just looking forward,” Morgan said. With winning, came celebrations. With celebrations, humanity:
“You get to be human again, you’re not just an athlete. That’s the best part. We’re all humans, and we all have emotions, and we all have vulnerabilities. And in sports, a lot of times you’re so shut off from that, you’re so disconnected from your emotions, from the real world, because you’re so driven.”
Morgan said sometimes she felt like she hadn’t smiled for weeks at a time — something she didn’t realize until after the end had come.
Those moments when she could smile and celebrate, the ticker tape parades down Broadway in New York City, were when she felt most human. Not, as she said on Friday, “this robotic thing on this platform. But I’m a sister, I’m a daughter, I’m a friend.”
On Sunday, Morgan finally had a moment for those two worlds to collide, to be an athlete and more. To have her daughter, Charlie, with her for the walkouts and anthem, and to stand with her family on the pitch and soak in all the sounds of the adoring San Diego crowd, scattered with folks who had traveled on short notice from all over the country.
“There have been so many incredible moments, but this one, this last moment I share on the field with you, I will cherish forever,” Morgan said, having mostly succeeded at keeping the tears at bay. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.”
(Top photo: Jose Breton / Pics Action / NurPhoto; design: Dan Goldfarb)
