Sloane Character Analysis

This is not just the last seven minutes of a match, but also the next decade of Cricket’s life if she plays the way she knows she can. This is her shot to step up and into the spotlight. It’s the chance she’s dreamed of since she was a child; the beginning of her storied career as the starting goalkeeper on the U.S. Women’s National Team.

When Liz taught Mia how to drive, she repeatedly told her to take her foot off the gas as soon as Mia felt the car begin to slide on ice. “Jamming on the brakes is the most dangerous thing you can do,” Liz lectured. “It’s better to just turn your wheel in the direction of the tread and hope for the best.”

“You mean give up control?” Mia had asked, clearly appalled.

“Mother Nature demands respect,” Liz explained. “So if the tires slide, or you feel yourself start to lose your grip, it’s safer to just go with it.”

I thought, What if I just went pro? You know Alyssa will retire in a few years—she’s thirty-four now—so if I skipped—”

Sloane cuts herself short. What she doesn’t say is that if she were to go pro now, she’d have a four-year head start on Cricket for Alyssa’s starting spot on the full National Team. Friends or not, the competition between them is always lurking just below the surface. Rivalry isn’t in the water—it is the water. It’s what can buoy or drown them.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Sloane says, turning to face Cricket. “No one else gets it.”

Smiling through a grimace, Cricket tries to wake up her right foot by rolling her ankle in the air. “How could they?” she asks.

“I know we need to compete against each other, but can we stay friends through it?”

“Totally,” Cricket says. “Just don’t expect me to take it easy on you.”

“There’s nothing you can do. Just focus on soccer.”

It lands like a slap.

Mia doesn’t need her.

Mia has never needed her.

“Okay,” Cricket says slowly, trying to eliminate the hurt from her voice. She tells herself this isn’t about her, but Mia has just made it abundantly clear what she values in Cricket, and it’s the same thing their mother valued, and what Yaz values, and what UCLA values. It’s what Sloane and Bonnie and Bruce Jackson value, why she was invited into their home, and why she was invited to this camp. Her worth begins and ends with the ball at her feet, so Cricket hangs up and gets dressed for afternoon practice.

Cricket tells herself she’s just focusing, but she knows that’s a lie.

The truth is this: Cricket has never been more alone.

Or more miserable.

“[Liz] disappeared,” Cricket manages. “She disappeared and she hasn’t come back since I left Mia in the hospital, even though this is what we all agreed to, this was everybody’s dream for me.”

“Yeah, but Cricket,” Sloane says, gazing at the carpet, processing, “dreams can change.”

“Not this one.” She feels another wave of agony beginning to crest and doubles over.

“Yes, it can.” Sloane pauses mid-circle, her hand still on Cricket’s back as she points out the obvious: “Because circumstances change.”

“But this is who I am,” Cricket argues. “This is all I am.”

“You finally need me,” Cricket says, fresh tears falling.

“I’ve always needed you.”

“Not until you needed a kidney.” Cricket tries and fails at a smile.

“No,” Mia interrupts, slow and deliberate. “I needed you—and I still need you—because you’re my sister.”

Paula, Cricket’s manager, reached an agreement with U.S. Soccer, the NWSL, and Cricket’s sponsors to bring her back here, in the tunnel, with her team.

Back where she belongs.

It would have taken even longer had Sloane not tipped the scales of power with her own team of heavyweights, her own savviness with the spotlight. Cricket has never felt luckier. Ever since the surgery, she has experienced an undeniable lightness—and not just because of the half-pound kidney she gave up. It’s loving Sloane, and living this dream with her, but also reuniting with Mia after those ten agonizing months of silence. It’s recognizing her life for the one-take miracle that it is.

This is not just the last seven minutes of a match, but also the next decade of Cricket’s life if she plays the way she knows she can. This is her shot to step up and into the spotlight. It’s the chance she’s dreamed of since she was a child; the beginning of her storied career as the starting goalkeeper on the U.S. Women’s National Team.

When Liz taught Mia how to drive, she repeatedly told her to take her foot off the gas as soon as Mia felt the car begin to slide on ice. “Jamming on the brakes is the most dangerous thing you can do,” Liz lectured. “It’s better to just turn your wheel in the direction of the tread and hope for the best.”

“You mean give up control?” Mia had asked, clearly appalled.

“Mother Nature demands respect,” Liz explained. “So if the tires slide, or you feel yourself start to lose your grip, it’s safer to just go with it.”

I thought, What if I just went pro? You know Alyssa will retire in a few years—she’s thirty-four now—so if I skipped—”

Sloane cuts herself short. What she doesn’t say is that if she were to go pro now, she’d have a four-year head start on Cricket for Alyssa’s starting spot on the full National Team. Friends or not, the competition between them is always lurking just below the surface. Rivalry isn’t in the water—it is the water. It’s what can buoy or drown them.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Sloane says, turning to face Cricket. “No one else gets it.”

Smiling through a grimace, Cricket tries to wake up her right foot by rolling her ankle in the air. “How could they?” she asks.

“I know we need to compete against each other, but can we stay friends through it?”

“Totally,” Cricket says. “Just don’t expect me to take it easy on you.”

“There’s nothing you can do. Just focus on soccer.”

It lands like a slap.

Mia doesn’t need her.

Mia has never needed her.

“Okay,” Cricket says slowly, trying to eliminate the hurt from her voice. She tells herself this isn’t about her, but Mia has just made it abundantly clear what she values in Cricket, and it’s the same thing their mother valued, and what Yaz values, and what UCLA values. It’s what Sloane and Bonnie and Bruce Jackson value, why she was invited into their home, and why she was invited to this camp. Her worth begins and ends with the ball at her feet, so Cricket hangs up and gets dressed for afternoon practice.

Cricket tells herself she’s just focusing, but she knows that’s a lie.

The truth is this: Cricket has never been more alone.

Or more miserable.

“[Liz] disappeared,” Cricket manages. “She disappeared and she hasn’t come back since I left Mia in the hospital, even though this is what we all agreed to, this was everybody’s dream for me.”

“Yeah, but Cricket,” Sloane says, gazing at the carpet, processing, “dreams can change.”

“Not this one.” She feels another wave of agony beginning to crest and doubles over.

“Yes, it can.” Sloane pauses mid-circle, her hand still on Cricket’s back as she points out the obvious: “Because circumstances change.”

“But this is who I am,” Cricket argues. “This is all I am.”

“You finally need me,” Cricket says, fresh tears falling.

“I’ve always needed you.”

“Not until you needed a kidney.” Cricket tries and fails at a smile.

“No,” Mia interrupts, slow and deliberate. “I needed you—and I still need you—because you’re my sister.”

Paula, Cricket’s manager, reached an agreement with U.S. Soccer, the NWSL, and Cricket’s sponsors to bring her back here, in the tunnel, with her team.

Back where she belongs.

It would have taken even longer had Sloane not tipped the scales of power with her own team of heavyweights, her own savviness with the spotlight. Cricket has never felt luckier. Ever since the surgery, she has experienced an undeniable lightness—and not just because of the half-pound kidney she gave up. It’s loving Sloane, and living this dream with her, but also reuniting with Mia after those ten agonizing months of silence. It’s recognizing her life for the one-take miracle that it is.