While fighting a disease that can make routine chores unbearable, Michelle Akers continues giving world-class performances for the United States, whose title hopes depend on her midfield mastery.
It’s no accident that Michelle Akers’ primary battles most of the past decade have not been fought on the soccer field. That’s what she believes, that there’s a plan in all of this. She’s not shy about sharing her faith. She’s needed every ounce of it to cope with the curse that’s run her life the past seven and a half years. On bad days, when her skull is throbbing mercilessly and she hasn’t the energy to climb out of bed, it’s all she has. There have been many, many bad days for Akers since the effects of a debilitating disease eventually identified as chronic fatigue immune dysfunction syndrome (CFIDS) arrived in the wake of the Americans’ victory at the first Women’s World Cup. It has been, she says, the one fight she can’t win. Not on her own, she means. And not on her own terms. On the eve of her third, final WWC, Akers ù unquestionably the most dominant player in women’s soccer’s brief history ù is, as always, prepared for the worst and hopeful for the best. She remains, at 33 and despite the ravages of her illness, a focal point of the U.S. squad seeking to regain the title this summer. That she soldiers on, fighting through the intense pain and the overpowering fatigue and everything that accompanies it, provides limitless inspiration to an American team that doesn’t fully understand how she can carry on as she does but is thankful that she does. Hers is a story of constant setback mitigated by occasional triumph, circumstances that would shatter one of lesser character. “It’s always there,” she says of the impulse to give up, to go no further. “It’s constantly on my mind. Sometimes I think I can’t continue. But through those times, I learn more about myself, more about my faith, and when I come out of that down time, I’m able to find more positives than negatives. “The principles I live by become stronger and more powerful than if I hadn’t experienced those couple days or week of agony, or of feeling very sick and wanting to quit.” It is the journey, rather than the rewards, that Akers focuses on these days; the anguish she must endure is the price for wisdom, one she’s only too happy to pay. Her illness, which siphons off her energy, often leaving her incapable of caring for herself, is “a blessing, a gift … ,” she says. “One of the promises I live on [from God] is I’ll never be in a situation that is too much to handle. I’ll always be given the resources, the means to get through if I choose.” She has been forced to reevaluate her life, her relationships with others and with her God. Her priorities and goals have been refashioned; but her drive, her overwhelming passion to be the best in spite of the obstacles, hasn’t diminished in the least. There’s a pride evident in every step Akers takes on the soccer field, a majesty rarely seen in sport, or elsewhere.
The best from the start
Her nickname is fitting: Mufasa, as in “The Lion King.” “She’s an absolute warrior, there’s no better word,” says U.S. assistant coach Lauren Gregg. “She’ll break a defense apart, win all the 50-50 balls, then say, ‘God, I’m not doing anything.'” She was the best from the start. Former U.S. coach Anson Dorrance first saw her when she was “a high school junior, maybe even a sophomore. “I had heard some things about Michelle, and all the stories undersold her. She was one of the best players I had seen in my life.” Akers’ 1985 international debut came in the second game a U.S. national team had played; she scored, of course, and in her next game, as well. She had another 12 goals through 1990, then exploded for 39 in ’91, 10 of them in the Americans’ Chinese title chase. Overnight, hers was the face of women’s soccer. She signed an endorsement deal with Umbro ù the first women’s soccer player to do so ù and found herself thrust, literally, into the spotlight, suddenly responsible for selling her sport in America and around the world. As she was being swept away into a new, “scary” life ù “It’s not my personality,” she says ù the first hints of CFIDS began showing up. She returned home from China exhausted, and rest provided no relief. The next few years were a struggle to understand what was happening to her. “From 1992 to the end of 1995, I felt I was in hell,” Akers wrote in
Standing Fast, her 1997 account of her battle with the illness. “At my worst, I was barely able to function or complete day-to-day activities. It was an extreme effort to do laundry, prepare a meal, or attempt the exercise bike for five minutes. Many times, just doing these small chores knocked me out for days or weeks. “At my best, I could play 15 or 20 minutes, or if I was really lucky, I could last 30 minutes of a 90-minute match. I could train with light-to-moderate intensity to stay in some kind of shape, and maintain a skeletal appearance schedule for Umbro. “The repercussions were migraines and overwhelming fatigue during, and especially after, activity. They lasted for days, sometimes weeks. … Other symptoms included neck pain, muscle and joint stiffness, water retention, fuzzy brain, loss of balance, forgetfulness, night sweats, poor sleep, gastrointestinal upset, diarrhea or constipation, high or low metabolism, weight gain or loss, emotional upheaval, sugar cravings, shortness of breath and heart palpitations.” It was, she says in all earnestness, the best thing that could have happened to her. “It was definitely a blessing in disguise, whether I get well or not,” she claims. “In my deepest heart of hearts, it changed my life. … When you get the fluff taken out of your life, you’re forced to deal with the essentials of who you are and what you’re living for. This illness has forced me to deal with that on a daily basis. “Soccer is a very small part of who Michelle Akers is. What I’ve learned isn’t really about soccer. It’s about who you are ù and are becoming. My dad constantly emphasized that, although in my early years I just thought he was being stupid, not getting it.
I didn’t get it. It took all the injuries, and ultimately the illness, and finally my faith to put everything into perspective. I’m still learning. “Everybody gets caught up in their own whirlwind of stuff, but the illness is constantly jolting me back.”
A move to midfield
She’s made strides with it. A change in diet and of priorities has helped, and aside from a year-long stretch after the Atlanta Olympics, she has been able to continue playing, usually at a level few can match. She’s played 141 times for the U.S. squad, scoring 102 goals ù one of four players ever to pass the century mark. A switch from striker to holding midfielder, made in the ’96 Games, has made things easier while enabling the Americans to improve their possession game and team defense. Her presence is vital to U.S. success; it cannot be guaranteed. “I have to prepare this team to be ready to win without Michelle,” U.S. coach Tony DiCicco says. “When she’s on the field, it’s a bonus. But we can win without Michelle ù we can win without any one player.” Akers, who plans to retire after next year’s Sydney Olympics, can never be certain if she can play or not, or how much energy she can expend. “When I wake up,” she says, “I can tell kind of where my tank is. I don’t know until I start warming up what kind of player I’m going to be that day. Even then, when I step onto the field, sometimes I start out feeling extremely rundown, but you keep having to test. Sometimes I get a second wind, sometimes I don’t.” “I hope she has the kind of tournament she deserves,” DiCicco says, “scoring goals and having this enormous presence on the field.” More important is her presence off the field. Her illness has prodded her to open up, to be vulnerable, to allow others to get close. “Before, I felt I had to be Superwoman,” she admits. “I was very guarded: never cry in front of people, never show it hurts, be stoic.” Through her books and her videotapes and her website (www.michelleakers.com), Akers has tried to use her illness to illustrate her message of hope, that everyone has a specific purpose, that all can overcome what appears to be insurmountable hurdles. “It’s what God,” she says, has put her here to do. “I’ve had so much feedback from people I wouldn’t have been able to influence,” she says. “Through weakness and suffering, the obstacles I’ve had to deal with, I’m able to offer courage and hope to people rather than just being this icon, with all these gold medals, inhuman almost. That was a hard lesson to learn.” One of many. “I just see all this as God hammering me, in a good way,” she says. “The more time I spend keeping my eye on who God is, his perspective, his goals for me, the more fun I have, the more joyful I feel, the more peace I have. The more motivated I am to be the best Michelle Akers. “And that translates to my game.”
by Soccer America
Senior Editor Scott French
