They used to call me the “Cold Soccer Player.”

They used to call me the “Cold Soccer Player.”See, I’m from Dallas, Texas — and where I’m from, football (American football) is king as far as sports go. But soccer was my dad’s first love, and he passed that love on to me when I was 4 years old. As I got older and more serious about it, my family and I would travel to northern Dallas so I could sharpen my skills with more competitive teams. But over time, people came to understand how seriously I took it. That’s how I got my nickname. From the very beginning of my career, I’ve known it was my responsibility to make sure people knew about me. That carried on to Texas Christian University, where I played for four-and-a-half years. TCU is a predominantly white institution, and a majority of Black students there are student-athletes. Walking around campus in my TCU gear, people loved to try to guess which sport I played. “Volleyball?” they’d ask. “Nope,” I’d say. They’d try again. “Basketball?” “Not that either,” I’d reply. “What about track?” Eventually, I’d tell them I was a soccer player, which usually prompted even more questions. Even now, people are still understanding that Black girls like me play the beautiful game, but by the end of my collegiate career, many of those same people began filling the stands at our games. As a team, we gave the Horned Frog community a lot to get excited about, and I’m proud of my contributions to the legacy we’re building there: with 50 TCU goals to my name in 102 games, I’m currently my alma mater’s top goal-scorer for men or women. I’ll be honest: after a successful collegiate career, which included appearances on US youth national teams, I felt confident about turning pro. That confidence swelled when I started seeing my photo on banners advertising the 2023 NWSL Draft along with other players expected to be selected in the first round. Needless to say, things didn't go as planned that night in Philadelphia. Not at all. But here’s the thing about feeling underestimated: it makes you learn how to be really, really good at knowing who you are, and letting that guide you, not what anyone else thinks. Drafted in the second round? No problem. Move out of my home state for the first time and start life anew in Orlando? Done and done. Transition from collegiate soccer to a professional league known by many as one of the most competitive in the world? Bet. None of these milestones were easy to overcome. But all those things were exactly what I’d been working toward. I didn’t dream of a professional soccer career because I wanted a safe, predictable life. You only get one rookie year, and I’ve been determined to make the most of mine.

January 12, 2023: the NWSL draft, and my birthday. I had traveled to Philadelphia with my mom, dad, grandmother, and agent to experience the big night together. I made an appointment with a makeup artist, and had fun seeing old teammates and players I knew from years in the game as we filed into the convention center where the draft was held. As the buzz in the room quieted and the event kicked off, my mind churned through excitement and nerves. I’d received calls from various teams at that point, but I knew nothing was set in stone until I heard NWSL commissioner Jessica Berman call my name onstage. (I would later learn that even that didn’t necessarily seal any deals, but more on that later.) As I listened to the announcements and applauded each drafted player, my mind flashed back to all the times my dad and I hung back after my games, dissecting my performance in the parking lot of TCU’s Garvey-Rosenthal Stadium. I knew then that my willingness to obsess over the details of a game like that meant that I wasn’t just willing to take my game to the next level — I was excited to. Around me, the long string of applause continued for the draft declarations, plus the occasional gasp when a team executed a surprising trade or allocation move. More names were called, none of them mine. My nerves tightened. Then, the words “second round” echoed throughout the room. I looked down at my hands and realized I’d been digging my nails into my palms to keep my emotions in tact. And then, after what felt like a century, I heard it.  “With the ninth pick in the second round of the 2023 NWSL Draft, Orlando Pride select Messiah Bright from Texas Christian University.”

Relief flooded my body as I walked across the stage, shook hands with the commissioner, met Orlando Pride head coach Seb Hines for the first time, smiled for photos, and did interviews with the media. But in that moment, along with the tremendous excitement I felt to have been selected by the Orlando Pride, I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed too. I’d gone into the draft wanting to meet the new goals I’d already set for myself, goals that had been shaped by those who came before me, like fellow TCU alum Yazmeen Ryan, who now plays for Gotham FC. Yazmeen was like an older sister to me at TCU, an incredible mentor whose accomplishments inspired me to be the best version of myself, too. Yazmeen was drafted in the first round in 2021, and I’d made it my goal to do the same. As the draft continued, my mom took me into the bathroom of the convention center and reminded me that being overlooked as a player was not new to me, or to the game in general. She helped me see through the shock of the moment that for all the motivation I’d always had to show everyone who I was, this was just an added push. I’m so thankful that she and my other family members were there to support me that night. I still had a job to do. I walked back into the ballroom and stayed until the draft ended, cheering on players like Riley Parker, who I grew up playing with and who’s practically a sister to me, and Mykiaa Minniss, with whom I share an agent. It was hard, but I’m so glad I stuck around to celebrate my fellow female athletes. You only get drafted once. The next couple of weeks after draft night were a whirlwind. I’d been training in Frisco, Texas, with my best friend after college soccer ended, and even though I didn’t need to be in Orlando right away, I figured the earlier, the better. So many clubs passed me up on draft night, but Orlando didn’t. I wanted to show them how serious I was and how hard I was willing to work for our team. Moving to Orlando marked the first time I’d ever lived outside of Texas. Sure, I’d traveled across the country for soccer, even internationally, but this was an entirely different beast. I won’t lie to you: the transition was rough. I missed hanging out with my family and eating my grandma’s cooking — and, I’m sorry, but Raising Cane’s simply does not taste the same outside of Texas, so I missed that, too! And as if my homesickness wasn’t enough, adjusting to the intensity of the NWSL erased all doubt that things had officially become real. When I opened up to the veterans on the team about my disappointment at not having been drafted in the first round, they were quick to put things into perspective for me, reminding me that the order in which I was drafted ultimately didn’t matter. Sure, being a first round draft pick was nice and might have provided a mental cushion ahead of preseason, but the most important thing I could do was make my case on the field. Nothing was guaranteed until a club offered you a contract, which typically didn’t happen until after February preseason. By then, I’d spoken to enough people to know how different the NWSL would feel from NCAA soccer. I knew the pace of play would be faster, and that players would be stronger and more aggressive — but it wasn’t until I experienced it firsthand that I fully understood. One drill will always stand out in my mind from those preseason days. The training staff lined us up and had us go against each other, 1-v-1, over and over again for what felt like hours. I was prepared for the intensity (this was preseason, after all) but I walked away from it feeling proud of the way I showcased my ball-handling skills and speed. As a No. 9, I’ve ground out more 1-v-1 drills than I could ever count — and as an elite athlete, I know the feeling of leaving a lasting impression on the field. That day, I know I did both. I poured every ounce of passion I had into preseason, which called upon me to dig deep into myself and show just how much grit I had, all the while constantly holding close to the fact that my career would not be defined by a draft number, but by my own actions and relentless determination to succeed. In March, I signed with the Pride, my first professional contract. You’d think that would have put to rest any uncertainty I’d felt up to that point about where my journey as a pro soccer player was headed, but sadly, that wasn’t the case. Deep down, I was struggling in ways I haven’t really opened up about until now, something that started during my final year of college and has continued in my rookie season. Preseason with the Pride, in particular, was like trying to clear a hurdle few people could see except me. I called it a confidence barrier — think the soccer version of the “twisties” described by the gymnast Simone Biles when she experienced them during a vault routine and ultimately withdrew from the Olympics because of them. As elite athletes, we have a special relationship with our bodies, and when you know what your body can do but your mind won’t do it, it sucks. What I’ve learned is that in those moments when you feel disoriented or distant from yourself, it is so important to surround yourself with those who can remind you of who you are, what you’ve accomplished, and even of your potential. Seb and Giles Barnes, one of our assistant coaches, didn’t waste any time with me. After I opened up to them about what I was dealing with, we scheduled regular bi-weekly meetings to check in. That alone helped tremendously; sometimes just talking through an issue with them helped me release it. And just in case I needed a visual aid to restore my confidence, the Pride video coordinator created a compilation of every goal I’d scored in my college career, plus a few from preseason with our club, and shared it with me so I could watch it whenever I needed a boost. (Even now, whenever I score a goal, he adds it to the reel.) And then there was the phone call with my dad, who knows me better than most and never hesitates to keep it real with me. It’s impossible to avoid judgment in this game, but I was a professional now, which meant that if I didn’t do my job as a forward and score goals, I opened myself up to even more pressure, possibly even ridicule. By then, he knew that something was off with me, and I’m so grateful to him for giving me that tough love pep talk. It was difficult to hear at the time, but that’s usually when I need to hear it most.

If my rookie season was a movie, this would be the montage of settling into my new routine until gradually, things began to change. I did a ton of research on my local hair stylist and eyelash aesthetician — because everybody knows home is where you get your hair braided and lashes installed! — and now I have amazing relationships with them both. As the rest of my belongings from Dallas arrived, I filled my new place with reminders of my old one. Most of all, I’m grateful to have been part of such a big rookie class to join the Pride this season. It didn’t take long for us all to become best friends and do everything together. In an environment unlike any soccer experience we’d had in our careers, we were comforted by one another's presence, physical reminders that we weren’t alone. With time, I started feeling more at home on the field, too. Along with adjusting to the NWSL’s speedier level of play, I’ve also learned to embrace Seb’s vision for our team and how we play, which was reminiscent of how I was raised to play in Dallas. The American style of soccer is mostly characterized by direct, physical play, but growing up, I was trained to prioritize possession and technicality. My coach at TCU, Eric Bell, embodied that as well, which eased my transition that much more. Before I knew it, the NWSL season had officially started — and so did my chance to define myself as a professional soccer player. That was the only job I told my classmates at TCU I was preparing for as everyone around me spoke of careers in the corporate world and came up with contingency plans, probably thinking I was crazy for chasing my dream. But for me, there was never a consolation plan B to playing soccer professionally. I knew I had to channel all of my energy toward making the most of my moment whenever it came. And like so many other aspects of my journey as a rookie, it didn’t happen at all like I’d expected it to. Early into our second match of the season against Angel City FC, my teammate, Julie Doyle, got injured and had to be subbed off. I’d started that game from the bench, but the next thing I knew, I was checking into the match. It’s always hard seeing your teammate go down, especially so early into a game. As I ran onto the field, I asked myself, How am I going to help the team? Julie is such a fire and force on our team. I wanted to make her proud, and that not only motivated me, but added to my focus as I shed my nerves and settled into the game. I got my touches in and fell into flow with my team’s rhythm. Around six minutes into the second half, my teammate Kylie Strom wrestled the ball away from Angel City’s attack in the middle of the field and played it to Erika Tymrak. I took off sprinting down the field and stopped thinking, allowing my instincts to take over as I did what I do best: getting in behind defenses and testing them. I didn’t even see the ball coming through my channel when Erika played it. Two Angel City defenders were running alongside me, so I kept my arms outstretched to keep from getting sandwiched. My first touch on the ball created a little more distance between us. When I saw the goalkeeper come out, I did a quick toe-poke around her and placed the ball in the back of the net. I wish I could tell you exactly what happened next, but I blacked out. You can’t blame me: I’d just scored my very first professional goal.

You’re probably wondering what it’s like to play with her, right? “Her” being the G.O.A.T., of course, Marta herself. Put it this way: when things didn’t happen the way I thought they would during the draft, I considered scrapping the league altogether and playing abroad. But one of the most compelling reasons for me to stay at the time was the chance to play with Marta. The thought of being able to soak up as much of her brilliance during my first year as a pro sounded too good to pass up. The very first day we encountered each other at training, she walked up to me, introduced herself, and immediately started giving me tips. She still has so much energy and confidence in our team, and that means the world. Also, just know that for every phenomenal ball she plays in a game, she dishes out several just like that, consistently, when we train. Once I learned her style of play, I knew to anticipate that from her — so now, when it happens in a game , I’m ready to capitalize on it. All that, and my rookie season isn’t even over yet! This league isn’t only fast-paced in its style of play; it can make time pass quickly, too. I can still vividly remember the emotional rollercoaster that was draft night; the confinement I felt after I’d finished moving into my Orlando apartment and realizing just how far away from home I was; the pure ecstasy of my first goal. I don’t think I’ll have time to reflect fully on this year until the offseason, but for now, I’ll say this: don’t discourage yourself. One of the things I realized is that if you’re not careful, you can allow other people’s opinions of you to define you. I’ve recently learned how to speak positive affirmations to myself to combat the urge to be overly critical, and I’m beyond grateful to my family, friends, teammates, and coaching staff for reminding me of how worthy I am for the opportunities I’ve had throughout my career. And I’m grateful to the game of soccer itself for giving me chances to remind myself that no matter what jersey I’m wearing on my back or what path I took to get there, I am always the Cold Soccer Player from Dallas, Texas. I think she’d be pretty proud of where she ended up. Visit NWSLsoccer.com/Intheirownwords to read more player stories.