Imagine what it must feel like to see your daughter raise her newly retired jersey in front of nearly 23,000 screaming fans. What would you feel? Read this candid inside look from Gloria Averbuch as she relects on that amazing feeling when she watched her daughter and Sky Blue FC midfielder, Yael, have her number retired by the University of North Carolina.

What has 22,500 screaming sets of lungs—a near earthquake feel--a sea of Carolina light-blue monogrammed t-shirts, hats and face paint—and thousands more hoping to join them just outside?

It’s a University of North Carolina (UNC) - Duke basketball game at the Dean Dome in Chapel Hill, a rivalry that dates back to 1920. (and if you’re a Duke Blue Devil, you feel the fear of God in this place).

And what has a mom in tears, unashamed, reflecting on the thrill of a 12-year-old’s dream come true in four seasons, two National Champions, and a national Player of the Year honor all these years later?

A mom watching her daughter hoist her framed, retired UNC soccer jersey aloft as the earthquake of cheering shakes the floor. Honoring her. My 5’10” little girl.

The large framed jersey arrived in the mail the other day, and looking closely at its engraved gold plate, and its perfect folds, I noticed a small stain on the left sleeve. It immediately spoke to me as symbolic of an essential part of my daughter’s experience, and of my own memories as well.

It is the stain that represents the challenging and often painful moments in a wonderful college soccer career: the years and days punctuated by tears, frustration, confusion; her first migraines (studies, soccer, college oh my), a state of sickness that left her crawling to get to the bathroom.

Of the initial fear of those notorious UNC fitness tests, when players routinely vomit between interval sprints.

Of 12-year-old fan Kelly Muldoon, living long enough with terminal cancer to see the team win the 2006 NCAA Championship, an effort spurred by Kelly, and dedicated to her before her death.

And because (not in spite of) it all, my daughter stood, in the middle of that floor, celebrating the rarest of honors: as a part of the legendary home of Hamm, Lilly, Overbeck; the most successful team in all of college sports; the place where, like so many other little girls, she had long dreamed of going, and playing soccer.

“I will only ask you to pull the 'mom card' to write about an event like this,” pleaded my co-worker and our Sky Blue FC Director of Communications John Archibald.

OK. Done. With Pleasure.