![]() I lived with two teammates above an old couple who always offered us coffee, and sometimes alcohol, before our games. In Lithuania I had a room to myself in a three-bedroom apartment. My first contract was in Australia where I lived in a shotgun house with a roommate from Sydney. Each time I left I’d pack in my suitcase ground coffee, ten books, and three photographs: the Pacific Ocean, boyfriend, façade of my childhood home. A vase for flowers, a white comforter for my bed, a painting to hang on my wall. I came to know the few things that would make me feel more at home and, even if I was only going to live there for three months, I’d seek them out in my first week. There was always an IKEA coffee table and rug, a TV, a coffee maker. The rentals in which we were housed were sparsely furnished. I’d unpack in a hurry once I arrived in a new place. Over the years, I became well practiced in the art of almost being somewhere, skilled at establishing a home in a short amount of time. Often the window between signing a contract and leaving the country was only a couple of days. Opportunities came and went during these month-long periods as teams built their rosters. An agent called when I was grocery shopping with my mom, when I was on a walk with my boyfriend. One year an agent called when I was at my temp job. One year an agent called when I was sitting on my bed at home. To get a job overseas, a player signs a contract during either the summer or winter transfer window. I practiced saying it to myself: I feel so lucky to have this opportunity. I wrote it at the start of emails to coaches, agents, friends, my parents. There are seven oceans, seven continents, seven vertebrae in your neck. Seven is the union of the physical world (four) with the spiritual (three). I wore the number on my back that coincided with my position on the field: seven, right wing. Ten for the attacking center mid, two for the center-back, nine for the striker. In soccer, each position on the field is represented by a number.
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