I Cried at Halftime. Here's Why You Should Too.

The Mistake

The whistle blew for halftime, and I walked off the field—heart pounding, throat tight, tears threatening to spill. I had just made the mistake that could cost us the game. I wanted to hold it together, but I couldn’t.

Sometimes, it's the moments when we finally let ourselves take a time-out that our mind, heart, and body finally feel safe enough to release the emotions we've been suppressing or carrying around day to day.

In front of all my teammates and my coach, I cried at halftime. Here's how it happened.

A Season of Struggle

My club team and I were in a rebuilding year, playing at a National Tournament at Disney's ESPN Wide World of Sports. Coming off a season in the National League, our team felt like we had a legacy of winning. But with more new players than veterans, we struggled to find our rhythm and win games. A pattern haunted us—if the other team scored first, we never came back. It felt like a curse that followed us from game to game.

Walking into this game, I was ready to play. I was ready to rewrite our story.

The First Half: It Was All On Me

I took my starting spot on the field, and the whistle blew. I immediately analyzed my opponent—the forward I’d be marking all game.

I was playing outside back, and she was fast, but I knew I could handle her if I played my cards right. I stayed close, close enough to intercept the ball if passed her way. I studied her teammates, watching their eyes and body language for signs that they were looking to connect with my mark. Their signs would give me a head start to make sure she didn't get to the ball before I did. And even if she did, I’d be right there on her first touch.

Our team played the best first half of soccer we had all season. We were shutting them down, creating scoring opportunities, and it felt like our time to score was close within reach.

Then suddenly, on a quick counterattack, their outside midfielder made a break down the right side, cut through our defender, and crossed the ball into the center of the 18-yard box—connecting perfectly with my mark for a one-time finish.

I felt dazed and confused. It happened so suddenly. I had tracked my mark so closely, but I wasn’t able to turn my body fast enough to get between her and the goal.

The weight of my mistake hit me immediately. In a single moment, I felt like I was responsible for the outcome of the entire game. Another loss on our record after our team’s strongest performance of the year.

Crying at Halftime

I was full of shame and grief. I had just let my whole team down. I wanted to run and hide but knew I couldn’t—I had to finish out the half strong. Luckily, the halftime whistle blew minutes later, and we exited the field.

Instantly, all my emotions came flooding to the surface. A couple of tears slid down my face. I was so humiliated and ashamed. And in that pause of time, all the thoughts and feelings I had been holding onto on the field were released.

I couldn’t even hear my coach’s words as she gave us advice and encouragement. As she began announcing the starting lineup, she looked at me and asked if I could go. I nodded and said, "Yes." I wasn’t going to let this keep me out of the game. Though I felt the weight of my mistake, the true defeat would be giving up. That would be sending a message to my opponent that she had broken me. And I wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction.

The Second Half: A Comeback Story

As I jogged to my starting spot, I determined within myself that this was not how it was going to end today. Today, our "curse" was going to be broken. The story was getting rewritten now.

From that second whistle blow, I played lights-out soccer. There wasn’t a moment I wasn’t locked in. My opponent never once got the upper hand over me. I was all over her. She was getting annoyed, and with every verbal complaint, my confidence grew. I was frustrating her, shutting down her plays, and creating opportunities for my team.

And just like that, we scored two back-to-back goals, putting us ahead. We finished the game 2-1. The first game all season where we came back from being down first and won.

The field was electric as our team shouted and screamed in celebration. The other team had no idea what that win meant for us. This wasn’t a national championship or a qualifying game. This game proved that we could overcome what felt like an impossible pattern, breaking the “curse” that had plagued us all season. And victory felt so sweet.

We smiled, posed for pictures, and lived that night in complete bliss and enthusiasm.

The Lesson That Stuck With Me

When we returned to training back home, my coach pulled me aside.

She told me she had seen me crying at halftime and wasn’t sure if she should start me in the second half. But she was so glad she did. She told me how much I showed that I was a fighter, an overcomer. That I had played a great game despite allowing that goal. That it showed my character and grit.

I still hold onto those words today. In times when I feel like giving up and wanting to sit on the sidelines after a failure, I remember: I have the power to rewrite my second-half story. The game isn’t over until the final whistle blows, and I can choose how the ultimate outcome turns out.

It’s Okay to Cry & Moving On

That game also reinforced something important: It’s okay to cry at halftime.

In life, we all need breaks—whether planned or unexpected—to feel the weight of what we’re carrying. Frustration, grief, disappointment. We need space to process.

If I hadn’t allowed myself that moment, my second half might have looked different. I might have stayed stuck in shame instead of moving forward.

But we also have to know when to wipe the tears away and step back onto the field. Feeling emotions is necessary, but staying in them forever can keep us sidelined.

So today, if you’ve been holding onto emotions that need to be processed, take an intentional and appropriate break.

And if you’ve been sitting in grief for too long, watching life go by, I encourage you: Decide when to get back on the field.

Maybe you need someone to help you. My coach gave me a choice: Stay or go. I had to decide right there. I chose to go.

If given the chance, I probably would have delayed my second half as long as possible. But sometimes, time-bound moments force us to step up and move forward.

And I believe that when your second half comes, you’ll rise to the occasion. The game isn’t over yet. You get to decide how it ends.