The Last Line of Defense - Anna Chen
Anna Chen is a student at the Y.K.Pao School in Shanghai, China.
You want to be Messi, whom all cameras track. You want to be Mbappe, who always takes those top-corner shots. You want your penalty footage to be played repeatedly, making the world wild, analyzing your angle, precision, and facial expressions.
But that's not me. Instead, I'm a goalie—the only one behind helmets, one staying as the last line of defense, one unnoticed until penalties. Not just that, I'm a floorball goalie—a sport so unknown that my swim coach refused to call it sport, and is not even worth having a female division in the nationals since there are not enough players.
Yet I love it.
In every tournament, I watch over my team from the back, see each shot—goal or miss—from the perfect angle, and teach the players to play better. I prepare myself for every move, for there isn't a goalie coach. I rewind and dissect my footage constantly, asking my opponents' goalie—adult, male, professional—for advice. Even during staggering score differences, I taught myself to stay a patient hunter, locked my eyes on the ball, patiently waiting for it to come, and blocked it with my palms. Catch, throw, and the game is on.
Not everyone finds joy here. Over my eight years of playing, some prioritized academics and college application over sports. Some girls quit floorball altogether, convinced to join less "aggressive," less male-dominated sports. Losing players was no joke. I craved change.
July, an opportunity came: we're invited to the nationals. I started phoning every possible candidate, even those who had yet to play for years. I single-handedly managed training, coaching, and flying across half of China. I had to reschedule training in less than 24 hours because they were canceled on the spur of the moment due to emergency COVID lockdowns. I wrote long letters persuading my teammates' parents that playing in floorball nationals was worth more than an SAT score. I pleaded with the tournament organizers for one more day of extension, promising to get one more player to form a team. Eventually, we united, we fought, and we won.
The joy is in our clenched fists after our first goal, in us wearing the same jerseys and chanting the same name. But to me, the most profound joy was when the tournament's chairman exclaimed, "a female captain?" as he handed me the champion and MVP trophies. Watching all my teammates, opponents, and even the tournament committee and failing to find a female face, I knew I'd proven this gender strong.
September, back in school, I told our story. Consequently, the varsity sign-up breached capacity. Even the recreational training had 18 girls with a cap of 20. So, my school awarded us the best court—indoors, with a new rink. Younger players flooded in, eager to try out, to hold a stick. Amid whistles and shouts of joy, my co-captain calmly said, "you're the reason I play goalie."
Five days prior to the Shanghai Floorball Championship, we formed YKPS's first women's team. Half of the players last played a year ago, some only started this season, and we even had an ice hockey player. Training only once, our team still confidently faced any challenge to come. With an extreme shortage of players, not one girl complained, even when their legs were experiencing a cramp. Another girl, with merely two months of experience, drew a game at the most-pressurizing final 40 seconds. But, like August, we united, fought, and won. We brought seven trophies home.
Soon, I was selected for the U19 national team development squad and recruited more passionate, joyful girls like me across diverse cultural backgrounds. Together, we shared skills to confront an experienced, all-men team. Jointly, we organized more interscholastic female-friendly tournaments. Together, we belong.
December, watching the Qatar World Cup finals, Messi and Mbappe caught my eyes, but also Martínez. When will we call his name besides "the Argentina goalkeeper"? When will I be called "Anna" besides "the female/Chinese goalie" or simply the girl? This is a unanimous goal for all goalies and girls—to be referred to by their unique name rather than their minority identity. Together, we form the last lines of defense. Indeed, we have a long way ahead, but I'm already incredibly joyful on this journey.
