In the End, There's Love

This is dedicated to a teacher and coach who challenged me to live the lessons she taught. Thank you, Coach Shelton.

    After 42 years, Karen Shelton retired. I still can’t believe it is true. When I first saw the post, I scrolled quickly passed it, thinking it was another celebration post - the type that has become customary to Tar Heel fans over the past decade of Carolina Field Hockey dominance. A few seconds later, something made me pause. There was something more in that post. So I went back and read it fully. 

    My stomach dropped. My eyes welled with tears. A flood of emotions overcame me. Indescribable emotions. 

There was shock. This is really happening.

There was grief. This is the end of an era. An end that always seemed unfathomable. I can't imagine a Carolina (or recruiting sideline) without Karen Shelton (and Willy) leading it.

There was love. The love surprised me the most. That it was still there, beating strong, after the years of hard times, difficult conversations, avoided interactions and stubborn wills. The love gutted me and left me speechless.

Life and relationships are complex. My time at Carolina was complex. My relationship with Karen was complex. There was always push and pull. I always wanted her admiration and respect. I wanted her to understand and accept me for who I was - passionate, introspective, determined, and creative. By my senior season, she gave me the acceptance and trust that I longed for.  

Karen Shelton is a teacher to me; she not only taught me lessons, but challenged me to live those lessons. She helped me learn to trust my own voice and beliefs by challenging me to stand up for what I believed in, to be an advocate for myself and others.

When Karen came on a home visit to New Jersey my Senior year of high school, she told me two things. First, she told me that she would eat anything my mom made except for liver and onions, and second, she told me she wouldn’t kiss my ass to come to Carolina. 

We both kept our promises. My mom didn’t make liver and onions, and Karen never kissed my ass to go to Carolina or to stay there. 

The Carolina Field Hockey program I went to in 2003 was very different than the Carolina Field Hockey program that we know today. It was Carolina in between the decades of dominance. It was a Carolina team in need of new uniforms (those cotton kilts were a tragedy; they looked more like drapes than skirts). It was a program trying to figure out who it was again after the unprecedented success of the mid-90s. The program was led by a legendary leader in the midst of her own coaching transformation. A mother with a teenage son. A woman trying to reimagine what success looks like for her program in the new millennium.

There was nothing easy about that transformation. There were a lot of hard times. Lots of doubt and uncertainty. There were a lot of hiccups. There was a never ending battle of wills. There was also a lot of passion for the game of field hockey, and Carolina, too. A desire to redefine who Carolina Field Hockey would become in the next decade. A desire for excellence with no guarantee that we'd ever discover it. 

I am grateful to have come through Carolina at that time. For the opportunity to have traveled those years with Coach Shelton. I am grateful to have witnessed the remarkable evolution and transformation of Coach Shelton and the program.  To have seen through the years what she built. Most of all, I am grateful to have seen the joy in the eyes of this year's champions.

My friend Laurel said it best, “Life is so complex and fascinating. It’s amazing that love wins out even after everything.”

In the end, it is the love for Carolina, field hockey and Coach that wins out.

Thank you for all you've given Karen. Thank you for challenging me to be brilliant and thank you for helping me find my voice. 

In the end, there is, and always will be, love.