This one time after training, about a month ago, I was on my way to visit my family in my hometown of Monrovia, on the outskirts of Los Angeles, and stopped at a gas station to fill up. Standing at the pump, I heard it.

This one time after training, about a month ago, I was on my way to visit my family in my hometown of Monrovia, on the outskirts of Los Angeles, and stopped at a gas station to fill up. Standing at the pump, I heard it.“Katie Johnson?” I turned and saw two faces smiling back at me. “We’re Angel City fans and just wanted to say hi!” I couldn’t believe it. I’ve poured more hours than I can count into this sport since I fell in love with it as a kid, but never in a million years would I have envisioned myself getting recognized for being a professional soccer player for my city’s club in my hometown, population 37,500. “We’re from Monrovia too,” they told me, and I was thrilled all over again. I’m privileged to have played for some incredible teams all over the country in the NWSL, but I can’t lie: repping your hometown just hits different. Every time I pull my Angel City jersey down over my head for a game, I carry on my back the unwavering belief and profound investment not only of my own special corner of the city in Monrovia, but all of Los Angeles. That’s a huge responsibility, and it’s not one that I take lightly. It’s an honor to represent this vibrant community. It means I’m always playing for something bigger. But before we get to that, let me tell you a little more about Monrovia, where my soccer journey began. Usually, when I tell people I’m from Los Angeles, they immediately assume I live somewhere like Venice or Manhattan Beach, or maybe downtown with its glittering skyline. Located just east of Pasadena in the San Gabriel Valley at the base of the Angeles National Forest, Monrovia is neither a beach town nor a downtown. My childhood was filled with bike rides around town with my friends, which usually included a stop at The Peach Cafe before going swimming at my friend’s grandma’s house. We caused such a ruckus in those days — but so did the bears and coyotes that sometimes found their way into our backyards! That’s the LA mountain life for you.

Monrovia is a pretty tight knit community where a lot of people know each other, and we’ve produced our fair share of soccer stars; Ashley Sanchez of the Washington Spirit and the U.S. Women’s National Team is from Monrovia, too, and to this day, her older brother is still one of my closest friends. Like many younger siblings, I started playing soccer because my older sister did, but it was also unavoidable; growing up in a Mexican-American household meant that soccer was always playing on TV, so I was exposed early. I started out playing for Crown City United, a local team based in the San Gabriel Valley, but as my skills and ambitions for the game grew, my family and I realized I would need to venture out of our town to stay competitive and continue growing as a player. That meant driving anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour for practices and games. I have vivid memories of my mom waking up early on the weekends to make burritos, wrap them in tin foil, and pack them into the car, which was already loaded with my soccer backpack and all the other things we’d need for a full day of games in places like Rancho Cucamonga, Lancaster, Upland, San Bernardino, and Orange County. I’m so thankful to my parents for investing in my (extremely time-consuming!) dream, keeping track of all my different commitments for my high school, club, and Olympic Development Program (ODP) teams and sitting in that notorious Southern California traffic to ensure I was always where I needed to be. There was never a dull moment, but I loved every second of it. After watching the University of Southern California’s women’s soccer team win a national championship back in 2007, I began dreaming of playing there, too. I went to so many of their ID camps as a middle schooler, and made that dream a reality a few years later when I became a Trojan. My mom and dad came to all of our home games, which was one of the best parts of playing college soccer so close to home. Winning a national championship, which we did in 2016, was already a massive, life-altering accomplishment — but to do so in front of my family, knowing they were cheering me on in the stands? That brought the experience to a whole other level.

As far as hometown glory went, I didn’t think it could possibly get any better than that, especially since Los Angeles didn’t have a professional women’s soccer team at the time. In 2017, I got drafted to Seattle Reign FC (now OL Reign) and moved to the Pacific Northwest, my first time living outside of Los Angeles. Ironically, that’s when I learned what home really meant. (Spoiler alert: it had less to do with my zip code than I’d initially thought.) As happy as I am to play for Angel City now, I’m equally grateful to have had the opportunity to live and play in Seattle, New Jersey with Sky Blue (now NJ/NY Gotham FC), Chicago with the Red Stars, and San Diego with the Wave. I consider myself a free spirit and I’ve always been drawn to the idea of moving around, but I know if Angel City had existed when I decided to turn pro, I would have done everything in my power to stay home. But leaving everything I knew and learning how to rebuild the concept of home for myself despite being thousands of miles away from it at times was what allowed me to grow. It helped me articulate what I like to call my roots and pillars of life, those essential places, rituals, and connections that bring me peace and help me feel grounded no matter where I am in the world. For me, that means locating my neighborhood coffee shop, farmers market, and yoga studio; making time to call my mom, even if it’s just for a 30-minute chat, going on walks, and journaling. Of course, I love being able to do those things in Los Angeles, but what I realized from my time spent away was that home can also be carried in your heart — so in that sense, I was never too far away. That’s not to say that I wasn’t holding out hope that someday the NWSL would expand in Los Angeles. There were always whispers, but like most rumors, it was hard to tell how seriously to take them. Looking back on it now, the signs got clearer in the years leading up to it. I remember coming back home to visit and seeing supporter groups advocating for an NWSL team. And not to get too woo-woo, but I did my part to manifest a team, too: once, during a home visit, I was sitting in the stands at an MLS game for Los Angeles FC, taking in the views of the stunning BMO Stadium (which was called the Banc of California Stadium back then), and actually posted to my Instagram Stories: “@LAFC please make a women’s team for the @NWSL,” along with a prayer emoji to show how serious I was. And then, in 2021, the NWSL announced Angel City FC as one of its two expansion teams for the following year. I recalled the incredible feeling of winning a national championship at USC, assuming nothing could feel better than making your hometown proud, and wondered if I needed to raise the ceiling of my own imagination again. Representing my hometown as a collegiate soccer player is one thing, I thought. But what would it mean to do that as a professional? Before that happened, I spent a year in San Diego, which gave me a taste of that hometown glory I last experienced at USC. I wasn’t back fully home — the drive from Los Angeles to San Diego can drag on for upwards of three hours, depending on how heavy traffic is — but living near the beach in San Diego was dreamy, and I loved knowing my friends and family were able to be back in the stands at my games, even though it was trickier for us to hangout afterwards, since they still had to make the long drive back to LA. I was a free agent after that season, and by then I’d made it clear to Angel City that I wanted to be part of their program, no matter how many minutes I played, I was determined to make it work. But as badly as I wanted to return to my stomping grounds, ultimately I knew it was up to the universe. Throughout my career, I’ve always believed that as long as I showed up as my authentic self and stayed present, good things would happen. Sure enough, they did. I was set to sign with another team in the NWSL, but the contract never came through. In that time, Angel City called. At the time, I was with my fiancé, Sacramento Kings player Trey Lyles, in Beverly Hills after one of his games. I remember telling him, “I’m gonna stay in LA!”

If you’re wondering what it’s like to play for your hometown team, picture this: a viral TikTok of my teammate, Claire Emslie, asking someone to step aside while she practiced corner kicks, only to realize that person was Natalie Portman, just one of several celebrity owners of our team. Cut to Sarah Gorden, another teammate, conducting team birth chart readings (because if there’s one thing Angelenos will do, it’s swan dive into astrology), and regular notifications to our team group chat about the phases of the moon and what kinds of intentions we should set. I may or may not have guided the team in reciting affirmations on the bus before (read: I absolutely have), and we have conducted at least one smudging session in our locker room, burning sage to clear out negative energy and beckon the positive vibes. We’re constantly sharing recommendations for the best restaurants we’ve been to, and as a foodie, I personally consider myself a Los Angeles breakfast burrito expert. (Jot these down and thank me later: Lucky Boy in Pasadena, and Phanny’s in Redondo Beach.) In all of those ways and more, we are a quintessential LA team, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. On the field, though, we put in the work. A lot of people talk about the sports culture in Los Angeles, sometimes criticizing fans for bandwagoning or only being invested in a team for superficial benefits. That’s not the case at all for Angel City fans. It’d be easy to think that our supporters would just be so thrilled and thankful to have a women’s team to support that they wouldn’t care so much about our record, but trust me, they make their passion known to all who encounter them, including us as players. I try not to get too deep in the weeds on social media, but I’ve seen enough to understand how invested our supporters are in our success, and how quick they are to hold us accountable. I love that too, though. I’d much prefer a passionate fan to a passive one; that’s how we know they care. And as for the feeling of playing professional soccer in the city where my love of the game started? It’s everything. Once again, my family is back in the stands with me — but so is my friend’s 7-year-old daughter, who’s already started analyzing our games. I play for her, and also for the two Mexican-American girls I met at a Football For Her training session I participate in with my Angel City teammates. I was drawn to those girls even before I learned they were from Monrovia, just like me. Now I train them privately on the side. Representation works both ways; just as I hope to be an example of what’s possible in soccer for them, it’s encouraging for me to see them embrace the game, too. Coming back home after playing all over the country has brought so many full-circle moments, too: after a crunching, cut-throat match with the Houston Dash earlier this season in June, I found my first ever club soccer coach after the game and gave her my Angel City jersey. It meant the world to me to be able to say thank you to one of the people responsible for me getting here, playing the beautiful game in the equally beautiful, boisterous stadium I dreamt out loud about on Instagram, for a team that didn’t even exist when I was playing just down the street at USC. From the mountains of Monrovia to the bright lights at BMO, thank you, Los Angeles. I promise to continue making you proud. Visit NWSLsoccer.com/Intheirownwords to read more player stories.