Forever 27

Adie Hughes

My high school soccer coach once told me you can’t inspire everyone the same way

because everybody plays for a different reason. The only exception to that rule was Saturday

afternoon, September 9th, when my team, the Nichols College Bison matched up with the

Framingham State Rams. On this day, we had a common goal in the form of a fallen teammate,

taken too soon from the earth but not from our minds as we took the field prepared to honor a

legacy that will live on infinitely.

We entered the game winless, seeking an end to a scoring drought that carried over from

last season. Framingham likely expected low morale, a Bison team hanging their heads coming

fresh off a sizable loss. Instead, they were met with a Bison team who was motivated, emotional,

and ready to leave their mark. I started in goal, ready to send myself flying as many times as

needed to secure the first win of the season. I always love the feeling of starting at home, hearing

friends and family erupt when they call my name. But this game was even more powerful,

running down the line shaking hands with my teammates, coaches, referees, and at the end of the
tunnel, Hallie’s family. The family of our teammate who should have had far more time in her

Nichols #27 jersey. Being able to hug her family at the end of the tunnel, now that was

motivation.

We owned the first half, but soccer is a funny game. We dominated possession, combined

amazing passes, and created dangerous scoring opportunities. I watched from the back of the

field, and other than a few stray pass backs and a lone punt, barely touched the ball. In just 45

minutes, we outshot them by almost 15 shots. I watched from my penalty area as shot after shot

sailed just left, clinked the crossbar, or fell victim to the opposing goalkeeper. Somehow, after

such a one-sided half, the double-whistle blew, and we jogged into halftime tied at 0.

As we do in many non-conference games, we performed a goalkeeper substitution, so I

watched the second half from the bench, riddled with the anxiety of having no further control of

our destiny. We started the second half just as we finished the first, opportunity after opportunity.

One of our strikers, Alana Snow, had been pushed around all game. She was tired, she was

cramping up, but she was determined to win this game. Finally, just minutes after I swore I saw

tears in her eyes, Snow found the back of the net. As the ball passed the keeper, she turned and

ran to the bench, eliciting a roar unlike any other. 1-0 Bison. But again, soccer is a funny game,

and not long later it was 1-1 off of a long Framingham cross to an unmarked player.

I looked up at the scoreboard as the seconds ticked away. At first, I looked at the score.

But bigger than that, bigger than the 1-1 in the middle of the frame, was a simple hashtag.

#Forever27. I knew in that moment that we would win this game for Hallie. Moments later, and

perhaps before I even peeled my eyes away from the big screen, Emily Feisthamel buried a chip

shot into the back of the net. 2-1 Bison. Feisthamel jumped up and down, celebrating a victory

that meant far more to us than any soccer game we had ever played before. Later she would be
quoted, “that goal was for the girl on the back of our jerseys who never quit.” Fans screamed and

cheered and cried. We celebrated with pride, knowing we made Hallie proud. The first win of the

year for the Nichols College Bison could not have come on a better day.

It’s true, you can’t inspire everyone the same way. Everybody plays soccer for a different

reason. The magic of the game happens when you can bring all of those differences and reasons

together to make something truly special happen. For us on Saturday, September 9th, those letters

were all we needed to come together and make something truly magical happen. Bigger than the

score, bigger than the game. Forever 27.