To the Beautiful Game,
Goodbye’s are never easy. Especially when you’re waving farewell to a game you’ve centered the last 20 years of your life around. A game that has been everything to you. A game that’s been everything you think about, everything your family and friends know you for, and everything that gives you the feelings of love and validation you grow accustomed to depending on when you’re in the arena for so long.
With that being said, this has been a decision that hasn’t come without real challenge, a hefty amount of consideration, and serious contemplation. Although ultimately, I’ve come to grips with my choice, I can rest assured knowing it’s one that aligns with my deepest value. A man who wants above all, to do right by my family and by myself.
And that decision is to formally announce my retirement from playing professional soccer.
After spending the last 2 years battling back from 6+ flares of recurrent pericarditis and the ups and downs, the ins and outs, the fears and worries of fighting back for weeks and months at a time, trying to regain my fitness and my confidence to get back to my best, was ultimately continuously drawn back by “another flare.”
It’s a reality I’ve had no control over changing, avoiding, or expecting, which has brought this decision to fruition much sooner than I would have anticipated as a player who turned 30 less than a week ago, and very well could have just been entering some of my prime years.
Yet, I try not to forget it’s one I succeeded in fighting back from after being out for the entirety of 2025, but was able to get back to the point of starting a game of professional soccer this season in March, and playing in a handful of other games. In and of itself, that’s a win I’ll take with me for the long haul.
Sadly though, I haven’t been able to completely shake myself from these flares this year (2026), that have led me to where I am, with the decision I’ve recently decided to make.
And I hope you’re catching that as subtle as it may seem; I’ll never say this was a decision I had to make.
It’s a decision I’ve chosen to make, based on where I am and where I’m going.
One where I carry with me the words of Victor Frankl:
“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
I’ll never show myself to be a victim of circumstance, as I know and believe that trials and challenges in life are what produce the steadfastness of faith and perseverance. These are the times that make us. And by definition, I could have never developed strength and courage WITHOUT having gone through something immensely difficult. Without having the presence of fear, I could have never developed bravery. Without uncertainty, I could have never proved myself faithful. This element of challenge is what makes the story. And I know it’s one that I know I’ll use to catapult myself further than I could have without it. Although that was much easier to write about than it has been to accept as true in its practicality.
Nonetheless, I wanted to take a moment to acknowledge everything the game has provided me. Because, provided for me, it has.
The memories, the lessons, the relationships, the laughs, cries, and everything in between.
I am who I am because of this game.
But more importantly, I am who I am because for the last 15 years I’ve committed myself wholeheartedly to becoming the best I could be, in it.
I selected a goal I deemed worthwhile as a young man (to become a pro) and was curious enough to ask questions and seek improvement. I was brave enough to bet on myself and make the proper sacrifices with no guarantees of success, and I was determined and persistent enough to do what I had to do on a daily basis to get there (even when I didn’t feel like it).
Those lessons alone are part of the principles I apply to my life as a man, husband, and father today. And what I learned from it all is what I’ll continue to teach to my kids as they grow up, set goals and face obstacles of their own.
Despite the challenges I’ve faced in my career (and there have been plenty), from my days as an Orlando City draft pick, to moving across the world to play for Hibs, and then coming back home to play for my hometown team at the Chicago Fire, to be anything but grateful seems unfair to me.
Why?
Because this journey has been more than I could have ever imagined. And the sheer fact that I’m one of the luckiest people in the world to be able to say and confirm the reality that I got to live out my childhood dream? A one-of-one experience. One that a young Chris would have been astonished to know he’d get the privilege to realize one day. And so, my heart is full. Although I still am grieving and am sure it will be a process that I continue to work through for some time.
What I’ve come to conclude as I turn the page is that the stories we repeat to ourselves about whatever we face, have faced, or will face, are what determines the quality of our life, more than anything else.
Was it “enough?” Could it have been more? Or was it more than I could have ever imagined?
That decision and narrative that I tie to my time as a professional soccer player is purely a decision. One constructed on the backend of the story I chose to tell myself. And I’ll choose the one that’s rooted in gratitude rather than lack, for as long as I live to tell it.
So for now, I wave goodbye and I want to take a second to say THANK YOU. Not only to the life lessons I extracted from the game itself, but to the people who walked the path with me, and who contributed heavily to my career as a youth, collegiate, and professional athlete.
Thanks above all, to God. Who’s granted me the strength, direction, guidance, and support to be where I am today. And thanks to God my condition isn’t going to be something that’ll affect the longevity of my life. God willing, I’ll still be able to walk my girls down the aisle at their weddings. That alone beats out any sadness I may experience in the short-term from missing out on a few more potential years of my soccer career.
Thank you to my parents, my brothers, and my family. My mom, my dad, stepdad, brothers, grandparents, and mother-in-law. Nothing I can say here will ever be enough for the support, love, and encouragement all of you have provided me since my days as a young player with nothing but a ton of ambition and a very, very short temper.
Thank you the University of Wisconsin. The place where I made my most cherished memories, met my best friends, and learned the most important lesson I’ve ever taken away from the game: You are responsible for your outcomes and you get out what you put in. Point. Blank. Period. On Wisconsin…
Thank you to my Orlando City Lions. The club that took me in and made this all possible. Playing in front of the wall and in that stadium, for that club, as a young player full of energy and enthusiasm were some of my best moments in the game. Thank you to the fans for supporting me and to the club for giving me a chance to fulfill my dream.
Thank you to my Hibees. Although short-lived, another stint of my career that I’d dreamt about as a kid. Living in Edinburgh and playing in some of the most hostile stadiums and derbies was storybook stuff. “While I’m worth my room on this earth, I will be with you.” Thank you for giving me that opportunity.
Thank you to the Chicago Fire. Firstly, for bringing me home and allowing me to play for my childhood club. To be able to play week in and week out in front of your family and friends, to the opportunities off the field I was given and the memories made that the club provided me with, I couldn’t be more grateful for. And secondly, but more importantly, for their support throughout me battling through this diagnosis. Truly, it was unbelievable and I never felt alone in it. A top organization that deserves all the success in the world. I’ve seen the downside of the business in professional sports, where players are often seen more as an asset than a person. But not in Chicago. For that, I couldn’t speak highly enough. And I’m beyond excited to see where the club continues to head and the victories that are still coming. Thank you Chicago. A supporter I will always be.
Thank you to every coach I had along the way. From my days at the Sockers to UW and all through the pros, thank you for pushing me to my best. Demanding more of me, stretching my limits and instilling belief in me when maybe I didn’t see it myself. More important than any strides I made on the field, you all helped me become the man I am off of it.
Thank you to each and every one of my teammates. The ones I’ve gone to battle with, suffered with, and the ones who’ve made the locker room banter, bar none the best part about playing professional football. The different personalities, characters, cultures, and jokes have brought me close with so many different kinds of people. You all are what makes it come together. You guys have made this ride as fun as it could possibly be, amidst the treacherous preseasons, long flight delays, or the losses that hurt a little more than the rest.
Thank you to my kids. Who, although you don’t know it yet, have given me reason, meaning, and significance beyond the game everyone longs for in life. To watch you grow up will be my life’s greatest adventure, and you don’t even know it yet, but you are the reason why I’ve always done what I’ve done. I love you beyond words.
And last but certainly not least, to my wife. Never judge a man by his success alone without looking to the woman by his side. Without you, Alyssa, who knows where I’d be. You’ve seen me at my worst, at my best, and you were the only girl who didn’t laugh in my face when I said “I was going to be a pro” back when we were 16. From then to where we are today, you continue to amaze me, and your support, sacrifice, and commitment throughout my career has been unmatched. You’re the rock and none of this would have been possible without you. You deserve just as much of the success, and more. Thank you.
As I bring this to a close, I want every one of you who’ve read up until this point to consider this before you depart. One of the most profound lessons I’ve taken away from my near decade in the game that has become fundamental to how I approach life.
Life is all about the adventure: The story you tell, the chapters you write, and the memories you make.
You are the character and the story is yours to write. No matter what happens that feels beyond your control, the way you respond and the attitude you chose to carry with you will always be yours to decide. Just as I have faced this condition with as much optimism as I could manage, your life too, will have tremendous challenges. But how you respond and choose to move forward despite their emergence will determine everything that’s coming for you. Because no one is going to come and dig you out of whatever holes you find yourself in. That determination resides on you alone. And it’s your heaviest responsibility. Because the quality of your life and the story you one day tell to your kids and grandkids falls on your shoulders.
It’s out there to get, and it’s your utmost obligation is to bring your best to the table no matter what. To be the hero. To face your villains and slay your dragons. They’re there for all of us.
So if nothing else, let this provide you a bit of inspiration, as I’ve made it a point to use this unfavorable hand of cards to showcase how one can positively and productively respond to somewhat “tragic” circumstances. Because these are the grounds that prove who we really are. And for that, we should be grateful for our adversity. Because this is what makes us.
To the game itself, I’ll say it once and for all, in genuine sincerity and acknowledgement for everything it’s provided me, everything it’s given to me, and everything it’s made me to be.
I tip my hat to what’s next and work to pass along everything I’ve learned to the generations of young adults and players to follow, as goes the cycle.
With nothing but love and appreciation in my heart, to the game of football, always and forever…
Forever Grateful,
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