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I was the kid who always liked to take the ball down to the school even in my free time, kick it against the wall, juggle it in the front yard and so it was kind of a perpetual state of playing soccer for me.

I was the youngest of about nine boys in the neighborhood, and we played ball all the time, and I looked up to them, and they let me play around with them, and we just had a good time.

Like many kids, I was thrown into recreational soccer in my town, and from there, I grew to love it. Everywhere I went, I carried a soccer ball with me.

When I was 22, I was having a ball!

When I was about 16, I got my ball taken off me by the police for playing in the street - which is pathetic really.

When the ball dropped in 1999, I was holding dough and champagne in my hands and holding my kids.

My mom, she wasn't like a baseball mother who knew everything about the game. She just wanted me to be happy with what I was doing.

I come from a family where soccer has always been very present. My uncles, my father and my brother were all players.

My dad introduced me to baseball. Then one of my friends asked if I could play on a team; my dad said I could, and I just fell in love with the game.

When I was a baby, my mom was always bringing me onto set.