It’s true. Hope Solo has a chip on her shoulder. In fact, she has many: there’s her difficult childhood and then there’s the brouhaha that erupted in 2007 after she publicly criticized one of her coaches. More generally, there are the numerous double standards she faces as a female athlete. Most recently she has taken shots from critics who questioned her decision to participate in a televised dancing competition—no matter that when a national football star appeared in the same contest, he was praised for being the ultimate athlete. Then there are the physical chips from years of competitive play, leading to major shoulder surgery that would have ended the careers of lesser competitors. But Hope is a fighter. These chips are merely motivation. They are what have made her not just the best female goalkeeper in the world but the best female goalkeeper the sport has ever seen.

At 8am, Hope is seated with her morning coffee at a café in Seattle, Washington. She has her arms fully extended over her head, demonstrating how the reach of her right arm is three to four inches shy of that of her left. For two years, Hope played through excruciating pain. And for two years doctors misdiagnosed her injury, attributing the discomfort to standard wear and tear. “The thing is,” Hope explains, “my shoulder was blown but my muscles were fine. Anytime I would get a strength test—I’m strong, I’m fit—I could get through it. It was painful but I could get through it. So they said, ‘There’s nothing wrong.’ I was really, really bitter. I should have listened to my body; I knew something was wrong.” What was “wrong” was a 360-degree tear of her labrum, with detached bone fragments and very little remaining cartilage. The surgery necessary to repair the injury left Hope with 11 anchors in her shoulder and seven months to recover before a seminal international tournament.

Her comeback is one of the more tangible examples of Hope’s tenacious, some say stubborn, spirit. “It’s a very extensive surgery, but when you have something to fight for, something that you’ve wanted your entire life, you’ll find a way to get it done,” she asserts. Hope went on to help lead her team to a second place finish in the tournament as well as win the competition’s top goalkeeping honors. Beyond that, her concurrent intensity and grace inspired a nation and generation of young athletes. In the airport upon the team’s return home, it was Hope who the aspiring players flocked to for a photo or autograph. It was Hope who landed multiple magazine covers, who was also invited to appear on numerous late-night and daytime talk shows and, yes, who got solicited for reality television.

It would be easy to attribute Hope’s breakout status to her looks. Standing at a statuesque 5’9″ with captivating eyes and a disarming, easy smile, she’s objectively beautiful—to the point that numerous websites and articles have been dedicated to her aesthetic appeal, and on a recent trip to Kansas City, a male soccer player serenaded her with a personalized rap. But Hope’s allure reaches beyond her appearance. As Amy Griffin, one of Hope’s college coaches, explains, “Hope’s a great spokesperson. She speaks her mind. Love her or hate her, people know who she is.” This line of discussion inevitably leads back to 2007, when Hope publicly questioned a different coach’s decision to bench her during a critical international tournament game, placing in her stead the team’s veteran goalkeeper. His reasoning was that the elder player had more experience against the opposing team. The much-told story goes that in the mic zone following the game, Hope stated, “It was the wrong decision, and I think anybody that knows anything about the game knows that. There’s no doubt in my mind I would have made those saves.” Intended solely as commentary on the coach’s decision, the remark was dually taken to be a criticism of her teammate and led Hope to be ostracized and kicked off the team, and dragged through the figurative media mud. But it also made her a household name.

Hope has clearly internalized this episode as part of who she is and how she conducts herself. “I love where I am in my career because I love to be a role model, but I do it my way without sacrificing who I am. Women’s sports have changed a lot but some people still want to believe that women are all about ‘team’ and all about being best friends. Really, in the evolution of a game it’s not like that. You respect one another and you put the best players on the field. At this level it’s about winning, and anyone who says it’s not about winning shouldn’t be a pro athlete.” Lesle Gallimore, Amy’s co-head coach, elaborates, “One of the things that is most misunderstood about Hope is that she doesn’t listen to or care about anyone else. That’s absolutely the opposite of her. She cares a lot, but she also cares a lot about how she feels about things. The fact that she has an opinion is a lot of times viewed in a negative way but I think it’s great. What do we want: a bunch of apathetic women walking around this Earth?” Judging from Hope’s burgeoning popularity and the number of public marriage proposals she has received, particularly in the past three months, it would appear that a legion of both men and women would respond: Absolutely not.

Hope names Amy and Lesle as both mentors and best friends, and their mutual affection is evident in the hugs and laughter that erupt when Hope and I arrive at their office. “They are some of the greatest people on this planet,” Hope clarifies. “They really hold you accountable. They expect the best out of you on the field, off the field and in every aspect of your life.” Though she is from Richland in Eastern Washington, just a five-hour drive from Seattle, it was due to a sort of divine intervention that Hope ended up in Washington for college. At 18, with a heavy dose of teenage angst, she was determined to get as far away from the state as possible, to the point that she had verbally committed to a university in Virginia. Then she came to visit friends in the Emerald City.

“Literally one step on campus,” she recalls, indicating the staircase and outdoor commons of her university campus that was filled with cherry blossoms, students lounging and dogs at the time of her first visit, “and there was this overwhelming feeling that this was where I belonged. It wasn’t the soccer program and it wasn’t really the coaches. There was just something inexplicable that happened in that moment. Fast forward, it ended up being the best decision of my life. It’s where I learned how to become a goalkeeper, a good person and build relationships with my family and with my father, who lived on the streets. Had I gone to Virginia, that would have never happened.” By the end of her college career, her family was at every game–her father always the first to arrive, sitting at his signature place in the corner of the grandstand, while other family members stood behind the goal, screaming “Baby Hope!” It was an affectionate scene long and laborious in coming.

Hope’s parents divorced when she was young. Her father was often absent and her home life unstable. Surrounded by this turmoil, soccer kept her on track. “Sports truly kept me out of trouble. Playing soccer kept me away from feeling sorry for myself and knowing the reality of my family situation. It just kept me going and going and going. It kept me studying hard, it put me through college—all things I never would have had without sports. I never would have gone to college.” Once at college, Hope majored in Communication Sciences, led her soccer team to their first conference championship and received multiple national accolades—and perhaps most significantly for women’s soccer history, she transitioned into a full-time goalkeeper.

As a youth Hope played forward, leading her high school team to a state championship and garnering national athletic awards. It wasn’t until her senior year of college that she fully committed to being a goalkeeper. “Everyone knew I had a special gift in the goal,” she recalls. “Everybody but me, I think. It took all four years for me to accept it and really invest myself in it. Keep in mind I’m competitive at anything I do, whether it’s on the field or at school, so I was going to give it my best. I started to slowly respect the position and know that I was making a difference, whether I touched the ball or not.”

Even without her full personal commitment, Hope’s goalkeeping skills had already earned her an invitation to the women’s senior national team residency camp and a starting position on multiple youth national teams. Lesle also attributes these achievements to Hope’s innate competitive nature, recalling, “There was a time when we had a super intense charades game. She and I were on a team, and we lost. It was 48 hours of not happy. She doesn’t like to lose. She’s also naturally athletic and naturally talented. And the good news is she’s not one of those people who has talent and wastes it. She’s maximized her talent. The first time we laid eyes on her, when she was a 13-year-old kid, we knew she would be really good but she’s taken it to another level.”

It is somewhat surprising then that simultaneous to this testament to Hope’s ambitious nature, the “cutthroat” athlete is across the soccer field laughing hysterically as she and Amy dip and twirl, practicing the first dance she will perform on television. As it turns out, her lighthearted nature is another of the more mistaken aspects of Hope’s personality. “She’s totally fun-loving and fun,” Lesle confirms. “She’s game for anything. She’s a goofball. She’s way more easygoing than people give her credit for.” Hope’s impromptu dance performance along with her chill, candid demeanor throughout the day evidence this contention, as does the fact that she chose to spent her recent 30th birthday driving the pace car at a national auto race.

It is important, Hope later explains, to work hard and play hard. “I like to have a social life. I’m not all soccer. Well, I am all soccer but to be able to give something your all, you have to step away and come back fully refreshed.” In Hope’s world this often means going out with girlfriends and partying, or taking the occasional vacation. “I live in extremes,” she emphasizes. “I’m extreme in everything that I do, even if it’s doing this dancing show. I want to win. And when I go out, I want to have a lot of fun. I’m definitely a thrill seeker. I love that instant gratification.”

This pronouncement helps rationalize how Hope handles the immense pressure of being a goalkeeper. “There are so many different layers of pressure,” she describes. “It’s the pressure that I put on myself. It’s the pressure of playing in front of a big stage, the media, family, friends… So when people say, ‘Every athlete has pressure,’ they do. But there are different levels of pressure. As a goalkeeper, it’s very stressful.” In a recent video, a teammate explained the situation succinctly: “Talk about a position you have to have extreme confidence in. [Goalkeepers are] not allowed to mess up. I get to mess up every time on the field except one or two. And if I don’t mess up two times, I’m the hero. Hope has to be perfect.“

Even for an individual with Hope’s confidence, this pressure is not without its effects. “I get incredibly nervous before games,” she divulges. “That’s something a lot of people don’t know. But I play better under pressure. Maybe it’s because I always play like I have something to prove. I feel like I have something to prove. I always have my critics. I’ve always had a chip on my shoulder and maybe that is part of my persona and part of what helps me compete.” Hope’s passion for inspirational self-help books that preach an active rather than cerebral approach to enlightenment and success could also go a long way towards explaining her uncanny ability to appear calm and collected, despite the stakes. These books, along with the scientific periodicals, are among Hope’s go-to reads.

Hope expands upon her understanding of these enlightenment lessons, stating, “It’s important to keep distractions far away. I’ve learned that over time. You just have to learn how to put the game first. At the end of the day if you don’t put the game first, you’re just going to live with regrets because our careers don’t last forever.” Whatever the catalyst behind Hope’s supreme game time serenity, Amy, a former goalkeeper who played internationally from 1987 to 1991, says it is not to be underestimated. “Not too many people know what it’s like to stand in goal and have that pressure. Hope thrives on it. She’s not afraid. You have to make a split decision. You can’t second-guess yourself. It’s all or nothing. I think she’s one of the few who’s not afraid to go for it all. She has made some saves where she looks [supernatural].”

It is this willingness to take risks that has elevated Hope above her peers. She allows herself the occasional imperfection and appreciates the process of learning, declaring, “You have to be able to let yourself make mistakes in order to get better.” Getting better is her overarching resolution. It is what will allow her to meet her career goals, which include continuing to be the best goalkeeper in the world—not one of the best but the best, she is quick to clarify. This objective is what keeps her grounded as she evolves from a soccer role model to a full-fledged celebrity and is thrust further into the limelight, something for which she has already developed a slight distaste. “In the sports world, everything you’re asked about is pretty factual,” she says. “Some of the questions I got at my first mic zone [in Los Angeles] were: ‘Who’s your one Hollywood crush?’ ‘What do you wear to bed at night’ And they are dead serious.”

The media and subsequently the public have historically found it difficult to comprehend that a beautiful woman could be a serious, phenomenal athlete. Add to this that Hope is known for her impeccable, fully made-up game face and their confusion compounds, much to Hope’s chagrin. “This is our job,” she tersely explains. “You wake up, you go to work, you look good. And if you look good, you feel good, you play good. That’s part of my motto. I think anyone can and should do what they want to do to feel good.” To understand the discrepancy between the expectations placed on female athletes and those placed on “regular” females, one only needs to compare Hope’s soccer and reality television experiences. On the field, she’s considered overtly sexy. On the dance floor, she’s not feminine enough. “Our first dance is the waltz, which is very dainty and elegant, which is everything I am not. I’m such a goalkeeper. [My dance partner] makes fun of me all the time, like, ‘Will you walk like a lady?’ He’s trying to teach me how to be feminine.” In signature straightforward response to the critics who claim she is compromising her devotion to soccer by competing on the show, Hope tweeted: I will NEVER trade in my toughness & intensity… I’m simply learning WHEN its ok 2 b a “lady” & how. So, chill the __ out!;)

This is Hope’s irreverence coming through, but watching her interact with friends and coaches and hearing how she speaks of her family, a softer side is evident. Even her voice is melodious. These are not incongruous chinks in her armor; they’re simply characteristics of the compassionate, complex woman who fuels the world-class competitor. They are the private aspects of Hope’s public persona. Amy sheds light on this duality with a recent anecdote, “The last time Hope was here, we were driving somewhere, and—this is Hope in a nutshell—she’s like, ‘Wait, wait! Is that our groundskeeper?’ You know, the football coach would be happy to see her, our athletic director…all the bigwigs, but she says, ‘Can you please stop?’ And she hoofs it over to the groundskeeper, which made his life, probably.”

This type of everyday intimacy defines Hope’s life in Seattle, the place she now calls home. She has a 70-year-old house in Kirkland, an investment property she’s debating selling or renovating. She has two rescue cats from the time she lived and played in St. Louis, and a golden retriever, Leo. A gift from her brother, Leo is named after Hope’s zodiac sign, which defines her as generous and warmhearted, faithful and loving but also dogmatic and intolerant. In the approximately three days a month she has free, she partakes in life’s small delights: throwing on her mud boots and taking Leo to the dog park, catching a basketball game or boxing match on TV, spending time with her nephew or heading to Seattle’s famed seafood market to pick up crab legs for a dinner that might also include homemade tortillas—one of her family’s specialties—and a laidback soundtrack. Since being basically housebound for the months following her shoulder surgery, Hope’s developed a cooking itch, though on game days she sticks to energy drinks and bars.

It is leaving this life on a regular basis that has been the biggest sacrifice in Hope’s quest to become and remain the best. “This can be seen as a very selfish lifestyle,” she acknowledges. “Everything is on your schedule. You travel. You have meetings. You can’t be on the phone when you want to be. You miss birthdays. You miss weddings. There are certain people in your life who understand that and there are certain people who don’t quite grasp it. It’s a major sacrifice because you get so far in your relationships but you can’t push beyond that. That’s what happens if you put your sport first and you want to be the best.”

As we walk towards the car that will whisk her to an imminent dance rehearsal, her ongoing commitment to being the best is underlined by the fact that tomorrow she will fly to the Midwest for a friendly international match, followed by another in Portland five days later. In a few months, her team will begin qualifying matches for 2012. At this point, Hope will again rely on her supreme mental resolve to manage the shoulder pain that she has been told she will battle for the rest of her career. She will fight to maintain her top ranking and earn a second gold medal. She will also be out to prove wrong all who have insinuated that her appearance on television will affect her performance on the field. She’ll likely succeed on all accounts—and there are those who believe she’ll do even more. “Hope’s the best keeper in the world by far,” Amy reiterates. “On her worst day, she’s still the best keeper in the world. And I don’t think anyone has seen her best yet.”

PUBLISHED ON NIKE: THE LOOK OF SPORT