The Weekend I Realized He Was Actually Built for This

By the time Trace was a freshman, we weren’t new to the specialist world.

We’d done early camps. Early showcases. Dallas. The Futures Camp in Florida. He competed well, had fun, and held his own, but at that stage, it still felt like exploration. Learning the environment. Finding his footing.

That same offseason marked the end of his soccer journey with Sporting. When Trace announced he’d be retiring from soccer at the end of the season, it wasn’t emotional, it was calculated. Like many kickers eventually realize, he saw a clearer path to Division I football than soccer. It wasn’t walking away from one dream. It was committing to the right one.

That summer brought college camps and early momentum. Iowa State. Nebraska. Radar pings. Confidence growing.

Then came the setback.

In the middle of summer training, Trace blew out his ankle.

But instead of derailing him, it refined him. He rehabbed, stayed focused, and entered the high school season ready. What followed was a breakout year—All-EKL kicker and Honorable Mention as a punter. The work was showing up on Friday nights.

When the season ended, we had decisions to make. Showcases…

Texas again? Chicago indoors? December dates were tight with holidays, family obligations, and life moving fast. Arizona kept calling. Warm weather. Earlier in the month. So I dug deeper inot past numbers, turnout, competition level.

Arizona stood out.

If Trace was going to have a real shot at earning an invite to the Underclassmen Event in January, a tough ask for a sophomore. Arizona was the place. More than that, I wanted him comfortable.

Because being a lefty at a showcase is brutal.

Crowded lines. People stepping across you or bumping you off you setup spot. Sticks tossed in your path. Older kickers who’ve been through it over and over know they can rattle your routine. As a specialist parent, you watch your kid battle the noise as much as the competition.

I felt Arizona gave him space to breathe.

I planned everything. Flights. Hotel. Food. Hydration. No chaos. My dad came with us. Travel was smooth. Camp morning was calm. Trace was ready.

Charting started with the around-the-world kicks, with and against the wind. This year was different. Transfer portal athletes were there for the first time. Four of them. Older. Powerful. You could see it.

Then Trace stepped up.

Perfect.

He was the only kicker to chart 15-for-15 that day.

He came off the field loose and confident, talking about winning Big Ball Kickoff and Field Goal like it was already written. I thought he was getting ahead of himself. What he didn’t know was that three seniors already had offers, one was committed to Wyoming, and the portal guys were absolute veteran experience at a Showcase.

Kickoff competition came next. Trace made the finals top five. He didn’t win it, but he belonged.

Then came Big Ball Field Goal.

This is where everything changed.

Trace wasn’t tense. He wasn’t quiet. He was laughing. Talking. Competing. Watching others. Totally present.

Top five at 58 yards.

Coach Kohl sent him first.

Good.

Back to 60.

Good again.

You could feel the energy shift.

61 yards.

Good.

Now it was down to three: a portal athlete, a senior heading to college, and my sophomore Class of 2026.

62 yards.

Trace goes first.

Good.

Portal guy answers.

63 yards.

Coach Kohl switches the order.

Portal athlete first. Misses got a little under and went high and fell short.

And suddenly, it’s Trace. Dead center in the alley. Every eye on him. I am shaking. My dad emotional.

Trace sets his steps.

Sharp jab step and let it fly.

The second it left his foot, I knew he had a chance.

It’s good.

Arms up. Applause. Cheers. Parents turning and talking in disbelief. My dad a crying mess. Me fighting back the lump in my throat.

He did it. He didn’t ever look rattled.

It was as if the moment never touched him.

As camp wrapped up, Coach Kohl gathered Trace for photos, then stopped one more time.

“Give it up again for Trace Rudd, Class of 2026.”

The reaction said it all.

“Wait—26?”
“No way.”
“You’re a sophomore?!”

High fives. Daps. Instagram handles exchanged. Respect earned.

Coach Kohl pulled us aside afterward.

“Well, Trace,” he said, “I don’t usually invite sophomores to the Underclassmen Event. But what you showed today was undeniable. You earned it.”

That was the weekend it clicked.

Not because everything went right, but because when it mattered most, nothing shook him. The pressure didn’t rush him. The spotlight didn’t scare him. The moment didn’t feel too big.

That’s when I knew this path was bigger than we originally thought.

And if he kept working and I kept doing everything I could to support him, the ceiling was a lot higher than we ever imagined.

Final Word

Every specialist has a moment when preparation meets pressure.

Most don’t know when it’s coming.
The ones built for it don’t flinch when it arrives.

That weekend in Arizona wasn’t about distance or rankings.
It was about composure.
Confidence.
And trusting the work when the lights get bright.

That’s what separates hopefuls from competitors.

Stay ready. Stay grounded. And when your moment comes—Let it Fly.