Megan Rapinoe's Game Is Changing All the Time

Megan Rapinoe was having fun with her now-fiancée, Sue Bird, the famed Seattle Storm point guard, late into the night of the Mot-soaked 2020 WNBA championship celebrations last October when she spotted her opportunity.

She tells me over Zoom one beautiful day in April that she heard one of the WNBA officials could perform stick-and-poke tattoos. Her fading purple hair is unkempt and she wears gold rings on her fingers as if she just woke up from a slumber. The 35-year-old great soccer player and activist is barefaced and barefooted after practise. "I will not use her name," she says before laughing, referring to the tattooed referee. I don't believe it's appropriate for them to do so! ””””

With the pandemic-affected Summer Olympics swiftly coming in Tokyo, Rapinoe will play friendly matches for the United States WNT against Sweden and France (scoring in both matches). Because to worries about Covid, OL Reign's Tacoma, Washington, club team missed the full season last year, instead joining Bird inside the Wubble (WNBA's bubble in Bradenton, Florida). It was an extremely close-knit atmosphere, with players, personnel, and referees cut off from the rest of the world. Rapinoe dressed up for Bird's night games (pink-and-blue tie-dyed trousers, red Air Jordans, a tee with her name) and trained in the morning as a superfan.

We didn’t have any kind of progressive language around expressing your identity. But from a young age, my mom really understood me. I think she knew that I was a little bit different.

Rapinoe was in need of a new tattoo as well. She decided to work her way into a relationship with the referee in the weeks leading up to the championship. Rapinoe has little trouble persuading her that a good idea is a good one. "She's infectious," Bird observes. Whether she's throwing fireball shots or advocating about equal pay, she really has a way of capturing people." After the Storm beat the Las Vegas Aces 92-59 on the final night of the Wubble, Rapinoe ended up chilling with our mystery ref and receiving a stick-and-poke dedication to her mother. "We spent two more hours waiting," a perplexed Bird adds.)

Rapinoe raises her left hand to the computer camera, a beaded gold bracelet dangling from her arm, to reveal the upward-sloping tattoo on her wrist. She says, "That's her nickname, Mammers." "It's also in Sue's handwriting, which makes it more unique."

Rapinoe's mother earned the moniker "Mammer Jammers" during the 2011 World Cup, when a "wild" round of menopause made her unusually sensitive to smell and touch, and she packed a new pair of pyjamas for every night of the trip. With an eye roll, Rapinoe continues, "She's got fucking endless pyjama sets." She wanted to give her mother some fresh ink as a gift. "She'd be like, 'Oh, my God, you shouldn't have done that,'" Rapinoe adds, her voice high-pitched. "However, she'd secretly be thinking, 'Oh, my God, I love it so much.'"

Rapinoe's close-knit family, which included her mother Denise, father Jim, brother Brian, sister Jennifer, twin Rachael, and aunt CeCé, was a kaleidoscope of personalities when she was growing up in Redding, California. Megan would ham it up for the crowd, doing her best Jim Carrey impressions (allllrighty, then!) to get people's attention and laughs. Raw emotions—anger, hurt, and frustration—welled up from tides so strong that she was carried away in the breach and went to her room, rage-howling, hiding until she had tamed her emotions. Rapinoe insisted on a bowl cut and boy attire as a skinny-legged seven-year-old, proclaiming to her first-grade class, "Brian Rapinoe is my brother, and I'm just like him!" You can hear an echo of Rapinoe's now-famous outspoken proclamation during the 2019 World Cup, "I'm not going to the fucking White House," in that bold declaration.

Rapinoe's enthusiastic outbursts occasionally displeased her mother, but she was given room while her mother kept a close check on her. Rapinoe says, "We didn't have any type of progressive language surrounding expressing your identity." "However, my mother has always understood me, even when I was a child." I believe she sensed something was off about me."

Even yet, there were restrictions, one of which was that when Mom whistled, you had to dash home for dinner. Rapinoe replies, "You do not disobey the whistle." That "iconic" two-finger whistle evolved from a dinner bell to a sports-game shout over the years. Rapinoe heard it cut through a crowd of roaring fans when she floated an insane long cross to Abby Wambach to tie the game in overtime in the thrilling 2011 World Cup quarterfinals against Brazil. An audio link from Germany to rural California, from World Cup hero to skinned-knee toddler, was etched out in her brain's neuronal circuits.

The law of the whistle taught a basic lesson: you have the freedom to be yourself, but you still have responsibilities to your family and community. When I first encountered Rapinoe two years ago on assignment in Seattle, she informed me, "My mom is one of eight kids from a very impoverished household." "They were constantly mocked because they didn't have any money and dressed in shabby clothes." She instilled in us an empathy for others."

Rapinoe's activity is motivated by empathy. "Being queer and having this viewpoint is one of the best privileges I've been given," she says. Kneeling for racial justice, the equal pay struggle, and defending trans youngsters in a Washington Post op-ed are all tied to her. Rapinoe's political voice has grown in the last year, with her endorsing Senator Elizabeth Warren in the Democratic presidential primary, interviewing Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez on Instagram about the first Covid relief bill, and filming the HBO special Seeing America With Megan Rapinoe. "Voter suppression," she said flatly when I asked her what keeps her awake at night in the post-Trump world. "Holy sh*t!" says the speaker.

Jennifer Brooks, Rapinoe's nine-year-old sister, remembers Megan and her twin, Rachael, violently competing in the backyard when they were four or five years old. "You could see the perseverance and skill," Brooks recalls. "It was just surreal." "Oh, my god, they're going to be in the Olympics someday," I remember thinking.

Rapinoe has a "W" tattoo on her right wrist, which she shares with Brooks. "The women in our family line are warriors," Brooks says. "The 'W' on her wrist stands for 'Warrior Woman,'" says the narrator. We're just antsy, and Megan has always been antsy."

Rapinoe—two-time World Cup winner, Olympic gold medalist, and 2019 Ballon d'Or female player of the year—was swabbing boxes and cans with Clorox wipes outside an apartment doorway in early March 2020. Bird, a four-time Olympic gold medalist, four-time WNBA champion, and 11-time All-Star guard, carried armfuls of groceries to the refrigerator, rearranging two weeks' worth of food like Tetris pieces until it all fit. They had a system in place.

"If I give Megan a list of things to accomplish, she will attack it: BOOM!" "Check, check, check!" says the narrator. Bird informs me. "I prefer to strategize," Bird, on the other hand, says. The pair holed down in Bird's Greenwich, Connecticut, apartment while the country went into lockdown, remodelling the living room to accommodate a home gym and visiting Bird's sister, brother-in-law, and two young nieces in their yard down the street. While most of Rapinoe and Bird's friends and family consider them practically married, Bird claims that "the little ones were putting on the heat" regarding a possible engagement. Bird recalls of the period, "I kind of miss it." "Something about just waking up with each other felt great."

Rapinoe's life had been nonstop until the coronavirus struck, "a shot on a rocket to the moon," as she describes it. Since the 1990s, the Women's National Team has fought for equitable contracts. (Julie Foudy, who played from 1988 to 2004, recalls that their generation's motto was "GFY"—"Go fuck yourself," which they repeated to their lawyer in response to every insulting contract offer from the U.S. Soccer Federation, the sport's national governing body—in LFG, the feature documentary chronicling their fight, which premieres on HBO Max on June 24.) "Let's fucking go" is also a reference to the current team's rallying cry. The importance of the team's 2019 World Cup victory, and Rapinoe's demand for equitable pay, soared to new heights. (Three months before the event, the players filed a lawsuit charging US Soccer of gender discrimination.) In between club play and late-night prepping for the team's legal battles, she was flying cross-country for television interviews (Rachel Maddow, Seth Meyers) and magazine cover shoots (Sports Illustrated, Time).

Rapinoe's notoriety stems from her tendency to put on bizarrely dominant performances under duress, such as scoring two goals in the World Cup quarterfinals after Trump had a Twitter meltdown over her refusal to visit the White House ("Megan should WIN first before she TALKS!"). She takes practically every free kick, even on the talented USWNT. "Pinoe's hip joints basically fly out of the sockets, so she can just hit balls with this whip in the spin," says Becky Sauerbrunn, a defender and team captain who has known Rapinoe since they were both on the U-16 National Team. "It's always a goal-scoring opportunity when she's on the ball."

Her attractiveness, though, stems from her indomitable spirit and profoundly felt sense of right and wrong that she's exhibited since she was a child. When it comes to the team's equal pay issues, Sauerbrunn said, "When Pinoe speaks, everyone listens." "She has the ability to inspire and move people in a manner that I haven't seen many other individuals do." Rapinoe and colleague Margaret Purce spoke alongside President Joe Biden and First Lady Jill Biden at the White House in March for Equal Pay Day. ("Have you ever seen them perform? President Biden said, "They're incredible!"

Activists for basic rights, such as feminists and marginalised people, are sometimes portrayed as miserable scolds. Rapinoe, on the other hand, has a way of transcending sexism and homophobia. Sauerbrunn adds, "Her charisma and smart humour lure everyone along." Rapinoe's righteous joy is nearly a radical act in and of itself in this regard.

Despite years of opposition, it appeared that after the 2019 World Cup, equal pay would be unavoidable. With 1.12 billion viewers, the team shattered its own broadcast records, destroyed Nike's soccer jersey sales, and returned home to a New York City parade with thousands of fans yelling "Equal pay!" There was a lot of optimism in the air. "I really did to be honest," Rapinoe says when I ask if she thought U.S. Soccer would be compelled to relent in the wake of the outpouring of support. "You can't overachieve prejudice," the message goes.

Instead, the Federation increased its obstructionism by dismissing the Women's National Team's precise recommendations, delaying mediation negotiations, and paying two lobbying companies to argue their case in Washington, D.C. The final straw came in March of last year, during the SheBelieves Cup, a U.S. Soccer initiative aimed at "encouraging young women and girls to achieve their dreams." They filed a court document that was so cartoonishly misogynistic that it went viral, claiming that the men's team's position "carries more responsibility" and "needs a higher level of ability" than the women's. "That was a big 'fuck you' to us," Rapinoe says.

Two months later, the women's team was dealt a devastating blow in the form of a partial ruling dismissing their claim of uneven pay, saying that the women had rejected an offer to be paid under the same pay-to-play framework as the men. "Every line item was less," Sauerbrunn claims.

Rapinoe explains, "We were offered the identical structure for a third of the money." "Why would we take all that risk and forego at least having something sure to produce a third?"

The women's team settled the most flagrant inequitable working conditions out of court last December, receiving charter flights and more staffing on par with the men's squad, as well as veto power over the fields they play on. Artificial turf, which is practically never used in men's sports, has long been a source of contention. Turf—an old-tire sandwich with sand in the middle, a coating of crumb rubber, and millions of sharp polymer blades—is gruelling, erasing all the finely tuned recuperation work (Pilates, ice baths, therapeutic massages) professional athletes do for minuscule benefits.

"It's just taxing on the body." Rapinoe explains, "Your ankles suffer, your joints hurt, and you get turf burns." "The ball bounces in a unique way. And sliding on it, splattering grass beads all over the place."

That's the insidious thing about sexism, or any discrimination for that matter: it's not just the big-ticket products that rip at you every day, but the thousands of plastic blades tearing at you every day. Many people have assessed the women's soccer campaign for equality by dissecting a complex matrix of revenues, TV ratings, and games played. You may also think about it this way: The world's most powerful soccer regulating body wouldn't give the world's most successful female players a single blade of grass. They had no choice but to file a lawsuit.

While the women's squad is optimistic about reaching a deal before the current one expires at the end of the year, the issue over past pay continues, with US Soccer claiming it would bankrupt them. Rapinoe retaliates, "I'm sorry you practised gender discrimination and didn't budget for it." "However, they'll have to reallocate.") So the struggle goes on. "Money is how our society shows people how much we appreciate them, especially in sports," Rapinoe says. "Every time a man signs a contract, we know exactly what's in it." Women's creations are always a mystery to us. What is the reason for this? They aren't something to be proud of, after all. That's something we need to change."

Rapinoe's Matrix-like vision on the field is one of her most impressive athletic abilities. She has an intuitive feel of where other players are, and she can plan out unexpected next moves like a chess master. She returned to the pitch for the 2021 SheBelieves Cup in February, scoring three goals while her mother's two-finger whistle rang out from the sparse spectators. Rapinoe scored on a cross in the 88th minute, almost casually volleying the ball past the keeper after running behind a defender and then cutting in front of her at the last second.

Rapinoe blew a kiss and mimed rocking a baby as she celebrated the goal, a nod to her married teammates, Ali Krieger and Ashlyn Harris, who were at home with their newly adopted daughter, Sloane. "A lot of the tales we hear about LGBTQ are so much about the struggle," says Rapinoe, who was the first player on the Women's National Team to come out publicly about a decade ago. "It's critical to demonstrate the beautiful joys of being homosexual."

Rapinoe has completed a five-year Homeric adventure, with her third Olympics on the horizon. Bird and she met at the 2016 Olympic Games in Rio de Janeiro. Rapinoe's romance began when she was engulfed in controversy with her kneeling during the national anthem before games in support of racial justice, which put her career in jeopardy. After the George Floyd demonstrations, U.S. Soccer overturned and apologised for its previous policy against kneeling, and the women's team has been wearing "Black Lives Matter" warm-ups to games since June 2020.

Rapinoe first slid into Bird's DMs to inquire about the WNBA's activism, and her first protest was at one of Bird's WNBA games, where she remained sitting during the national anthem. Bird was the only one who noticed.

Rapinoe and Bird announced their engagement in October. ("I had to put a stop to that immediately now," she explains.) Bird, who is 40, has stated that this will be her final Olympics, while Rapinoe is on the verge of doing so. Bird's niece, who is eight years old, has already written her bridesmaid speech. And the pair is considering a weeklong wedding in a warm location to allow them to spend more time with their loved ones. "One thing sports taught both of us is that when you have huge moments, like a championship win, you can't re-create that intensity once it's gone," Bird adds.

Rapinoe is well aware that these fleeting moments of happiness are hard-won—and that there are obstacles ahead. "We have to be laser-like in our focus," she explains. "Being civically involved is our responsibility." In the end, we get to select what kind of system we want to live under. And we don't have to live in a system like this any longer."