I jogged back to where my teammates were gathering for the trophy presentation. Max, as captain, was given the honor of lifting it first, and we all erupted in cheers as he held it high.
Then it was passed around, each of us taking turns hoisting it, feeling the weight of everything we'd accomplished.
When it got to me, I lifted it with both hands, and the crowd roared. But I wasn't thinking about the championship or the title or even the perfect ending to my comeback season.
I was thinking about Rosie, waiting for me. About the future we were building together. About how this moment, this triumph, was possible because I'd been brave enough to be vulnerable, to ask for help, to let someone in.
"Speech!" someone shouted. "Dex, speech!"
I looked at Max, who nodded encouragingly.
"Uh, okay." I cleared my throat, suddenly nervous despite just playing ninety minutes of high-stakes soccer. "A year ago, I didn't think I'd ever stand here again. I thought my career was over. My identity was shattered. I didn't know who I was without soccer."
The crowd quieted, listening.
"But I learned something important through recovery: You're not defined by your worst moment. You're defined by what you do after it." I looked at my teammates. "This team never gave up on me, even when I was struggling. They supported me, pushed me, believed in me when I didn't believe in myself."
I found Rosie in the crowd. "And someone very special taught me that it's okay to be scared. It's okay to struggle. It's okay to not be perfect. As long as you keep showing up, keep trying, keep fighting."
My voice strengthened. "This championship isn't just about winning. It's about proving that setbacks don't define you. That you can come back stronger. That vulnerability isn't weakness, yet it's courage."
The crowd erupted in applause.
Max pulled me into a hug. "That was perfect, man."
"Thanks for believing in me. For giving me another chance."
"You earned it. Every second of playing time, you earned it." Max grinned. "Now go get your girl. We'll handle the press."
I didn't need to be told twice.
I found Rosie waiting by the tunnel, and she launched herself into my arms.
"That speech," she said. "Derek, that was beautiful."
"Meant every word." I set her down but kept my arms around her. "This win is ours. Yours and mine. Because you helped me get here."
"You got yourself here. I just held your hand along the way."
"Best hand I've ever held." I kissed her forehead. "Come on. Let's get out of here before the media circus finds us."
We snuck away while the team was still celebrating, finding a quiet spot on the far side of the stadium where we could see the field but avoid the chaos.
"I'm so proud of you," Rosie said, sitting beside me on thegrass. "Not just for winning, but for facing your fear. For taking those shots."
"I almost didn't. Both times, I felt the panic rising." I took her hand. "But then I thought about everything we've talked about in therapy. About how fear is just information, not a command. And I thought about you, believing in me."
"I always believe in you."
"I know. That's what makes it possible." I pulled her closer. "Thank you. For everything. For the playlists, for the early morning pep talks, for the Pilates sessions, for loving me even when I was a mess."
"You're still a mess sometimes," she teased. "I love you anyway."
"Good. Because I'm planning to be your mess for a very long time."
She laughed, that beautiful sound that never failed to make my heart skip. "I can live with that."
We sat there watching the sun set over the field, the championship trophy gleaming in the distance, both of us thinking about how far we'd come.
