From Where I Sit: The Royals Are Working
A pass from Tejada puts Narumi “Rumi” Miura in the hot seat outside of the box. As she’s pushed to the left of the field and out of a dangerous position, the crowd goes silent. A moment of anticipation fills the air while 10,000 fans await the inevitable cross from Rumi, eager to see who she can pick out and what they can do with the ball. She draws defenders closer to her, but a sudden burst of speed creates a pocket of space between the defenders and Rumi. This is the moment. The cross is coming now! But no, the ball is heading toward the net. It’s a shot! It hovers above the head of the keeper for a moment, seemingly fixed in space. The rainbow arc of her shot sails undisturbed into the back of the net.
Silence. Pandemonium.
The wave of sound washing over the pitch is almost visible from its intensity. Rumi runs toward the bench and celebrates with her teammates in a moment of unbridled joy. The Royals meld into a mass of jerseys and ponytails while the crowd serenades them with cheers and songs. Drums thump. Flags wave. Rumi’s name echoes throughout the stadium. The sounds and spirit are so infectious that even the photographers have to fight the instinct to join in. This is special. 10,000 people brought to life by 11 women representing them on the pitch. A return from the World Cup break. A return to form. We’re home.
The break is finally over. While the World Cup gave us some incredible memories, it just feels good to have local soccer back. I missed the routines of home matches more than I realized I would. Getting the camera gear together, interacting with the fans before the match, and the smells and sounds of matchday in Sandy. Above all of that, I missed women’s soccer. Like most American soccer fans, I’ve followed international women’s soccer and the US Women’s team for a long time, but I missed out on the first iteration of the Royals. Kayla and I lived out of state at the time, and we weren’t able to be a part of that club. Because of that, when the Royals were brought back, while some doubted how a second iteration would survive, we decided that we’d jump in with both feet and support the club in any way we could. The result: we fell in love with the Royals.
The crowd at this match shows that it’s not just us. 10,000 people all gathered to cheer on the Royals. The club entered the match on a two-game losing streak, but you wouldn’t know that from the way the fans showed up. Their cheers provided the soundtrack to a dominant night for the Royals. Orlando wasn’t able to gain any real momentum during the entire match, despite having the Golden Boot leader in their starting XI. Our girls shut them down, all to the thundering of applause and songs from the Throne and the rest of the supporters. Orlando registered exactly zero shots on target through the entire match. Mandy McGlynn and the defense had them in their back pocket for the full 90. Mandy was active despite not registering any traditional saves. She stole opportunities away from Orlando, punched balls away, and caught long balls like her gloves were super magnets.
Matches like this are the ones I enjoy the most as a fan and a photographer. These matches are when you see young girls, inspired by their soccer heroines, fall in love with the sport. When you see the future Royals start their journeys. Through the lens of my camera, I get to see them and preserve them. Young Royals fans holding signs, parents dancing with their children to the stadium music, girls clad in Royals gear holding scarves and cheering. Rumi’s goal was one of those moments. This was a moment these girls will tell their friends about. A moment that they’ll recreate on playgrounds around the state. This is why we missed local soccer. This is why we missed the Royals.
When the Royals’ return was announced, there were those who expressed doubts. They questioned how the Royals would survive when they hadn’t before. They doubted the demand for women’s sports. From where they sat, they couldn’t see the Royals working.
